Epiphanies

Haleh Rafi

Description

Understanding life and its realities has always been difficult, not only for children but also for those who are considered as adults. Epiphanies is a collection of short stories that portrays challenges of life and illustrates how events can lead to some 'Aha' moments!

Sujets

• Short story

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 28 février 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528993111
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Epiphanies
Haleh Rafi
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-02-28
Epiphanies About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgment The Goldfish My Last Volleyball Game Wheat Fields Black and White Hexagons Selective Mutism Miracle Light
About the Author
Haleh Rafi is a teacher who has taught in early childhood, primary, secondary and higher education. Her teaching approach is storytelling.
She received her first PhD in Iran in English Language and Literature, and her second PhD in Australia where she studied Natural Spirituality as an educational process.
She is currently living in Melbourne, Australia and works as a research assistant and teaching associate in Monash University.
Dedication
To Shahram, Shahrzad and Maman
Thank you for your never-ending support.
And to the bright light in all of us
Copyright Information ©
Haleh Rafi (2020)
The right of Haleh Rafi to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528993104 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528993111 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgment
I am deeply grateful to my wonderful family, my fantabulous friends and my superb students who read (or listed to) my stories, helped me write them better and encouraged me to move on and publish them.
I am especially thankful to Jacqueline Young – my artist friend in Monash University – who, after reading The Goldfish , magically turned my story into first a drawing and then a painting. I never knew that a story could be so amazingly portrayed in a picture. I put the drawing before the first story, and used the painting as the book cover. (You are great Jacqui!)
The Goldfish

C:\Users\ViralWebbs\Pictures\FP\6.jpg
They say war is a horrible thing but I suppose this is not true when it is spring and trees are in full bloom, and there is no school, so you can spend the whole day—every day—playing with your best friend doing whatever you want. Having a friend like Elnaz was the best thing that could have happened to me. She was generous, kind-hearted and smart; a sort of friend who did not talk much, but always had something good to say. She was also a courageous and adventurous girl, and had a great sense of humour. She usually took the initiative in our games. We were like a single soul inhabiting two bodies.
The planes came every night and bombed the city. My mum hysterically counted as the bombs hit the ground with a loud ‘ Boom!’ “One.” Pause. “Two.” Pause. “Three.” Long pause. Some nights she counted to eight or nine. Sometimes the sound of’ Boom’ was louder than expected. At such times she would nervously say: “That was close.” She was really scared of the bombing.
Most people had already left the city. Those who stayed went to their basements when they heard the siren. The electricity was shut off and the city remained in complete darkness. During the blackouts, no one was allowed to light a candle or even a match, as the dimmest light might have given away the position of the city to the planes. Our house did not have a basement, so we stayed in the house but in order to avoid the windows, we slept in the windowless hallway.
It was fun when Elnaz slept over at ours. We lay down next to each other, sharing one blanket, and talked until late. We were not afraid of the bombs and no matter how much Mum worried, we managed to make her laugh at our jokes. Elnaz tried to comfort my mum by explaining how small the chance was that a bomb would strike our house in such a big city. She said the probability of having a car accident was much higher than being killed by a bomb. In fact, we had heard that many people fleeing the city because of the bombing had accidents on the road and lost their lives.
At night, I also brought our goldfish to the hallway. People buy goldfish for the Persian New Year, as is custom in Iran, but the fish usually do not live for more than a few months. Ours, however, had already lived for two years; perhaps because we loved her so much. We kept her in a big crystal bowl and changed the water every other day. We also bought special fish food for her, although it was very expensive for us. She was a little flabby and that made her even more adorable. Every morning, we greeted the goldfish and played with her. She had learnt to come to the surface when we touched the water. She kissed our fingers with her lips. It tickled.
Elnaz’s father was a photographer. He had a shop where he took photographs of people. They came for passport or ID photos and occasionally for family portraits. As the schools were closed due to the bombings, he gave us a camera to practice photography. The camera was old, but it had an adjustable lens. He taught us how to use the zoom and how to choose frames. He also gave us a roll of film that held 24 exposures and asked us to take some good pictures. Having only 24 frames to shoot made us pick our subjects with fastidious care. We made sure not to take more than three photographs a day. Elnaz and I discussed the angle and framing for a long time, then took the photos meticulously. The first photograph we took was of the goldfish kissing my fingertip.
In our street, which was a dead-end, only three families were left: mine, Elnaz’s and Mr Jafari’s and Mr Jafari left as soon as he found a piece of a bomb in his yard. We saw him one morning in front of his house looking at a piece of silver metal. He showed it to us and explained that it was a piece of a bomb that he had found in his yard after the previous night’s bombing. I asked him how he knew it was a piece of a bomb and he told us because he had seen it falling from the sky. We were not sure if it really was a piece of a bomb. Elnaz thought it was a part of the bullets from the anti-aircraft guns. We decided to take a picture of it, anyway.
After Mr Jafari left, the street belonged entirely to us. We spent all day in the street and played different sorts of games there. Sometimes we played spies, climbing up the walls and looking into people’s yards. Once we even camped right in the middle of the street, as no cars were passing by anymore. But we usually went to find interesting things to take photographs of.
It was a Tuesday when we finished taking our 24 photos. Elnaz knew how to turn them to real pictures in the darkroom under a red light. She asked her father to allow her to stay in the shop that night to develop the pictures. I wanted to stay with Elnaz, but I thought Mum would want me to stay at home with her. That night, I was so excited about our photographs that I forgot to bring our goldfish to the hall.
The night was almost over when I woke up to the sound of the first bomb: ’ Boom!’ I opened my eyes and looked at my mum who immediately sat up and counted: “One!” I closed my eyes, waiting for the planes to drop all their bombs so that I could go back to sleep again. After the second and third ones, suddenly something very strange happened. The house shook violently and all the windows shattered with an ear-splitting sound. Pieces of glass were thrown everywhere and some of them got stuck in the walls. We could not even hear the next bombs.
I had heard about explosions, but that was the first time I was experiencing it. The effect was so shocking that I could not move for a few seconds. My mum was trembling when I eventually managed to go to her and hug her. I then remembered our goldfish and ran to the kitchen. The crystal bowl was broken to pieces and the goldfish was jumping up and down on the floor. It was difficult to catch her. Twice she slipped out of my hands before I could grab her and put her in a glass of water. I looked at her closely and noticed that she had been wounded by the shattered glass on the floor. There was a red line on her body and it was bleeding from the cut. I took her to my mum and she assured me that the goldfish would soon be OK. Just to cheer her up, I then told my mum with a giggle, “That bomb was really close!”
We went outside once the electricity came back on. My mother and I began to walk towards the main road at the end of our street. In the dark before dawn, we could see people going from place to place, talking to each other and helping those who needed help. My mum was curious to know where the bomb had landed and I wanted to see Elnaz, so we both headed towards the shop but I ran ahead. While running I was thinking of telling Elnaz about the exploding windows, pieces of glass in the walls, and our wounded goldfish. My thoughts were distracted, however, as I got closer to the shop and saw all the damaged houses, I realised that the bomb had hit closer to the shop than to our house and I thought Elnaz might have had more exciting stories to tell me about what had happened. The closer I got to the shop, the greater the debris became from the destroyed houses. Buildings lay in ruins as far as I could see. Fragments of glass littered the alleyways. I could not run anymore and as I scattered broken glass with my shoes and climbed over piles of bricks I started to worry. What if the dark room has been damaged badly and all our pictures are gone ? We had put so much effort into taking the photographs that I did not want to lose them, no matter what. Thinking of the pictures and with tears in my eyes, I suddenly saw Elnaz’s father. Pieces of glass crinkled benea