About this ebook
Earl Joseph is a young aspiring young cricketer who works on his parents' farm. Every night he and his father traverse the dark lonely interior of the island to delivery fresh produce to the Roseau market. Island life is simple if not unfulfilling for the youngster.
One fateful night Earl decides to make the trip on his own, whilst his father rests. What he discovers would change his life forever. Suddenly all his dreams were within reach.
Yet, beneath the visage of his apparent success, something sinister has been unleashed, slowly ensnaring everything in it's path. Only Earl stands in its way...
Read more from Vince Arnold Savarin
A Night at the ER Other Tales and Musings Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsProdigal of Dominica: PRODIGAL OF DOMINICA Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Related to Mr. Earl
Related ebooks
Original Short Stories — Volume 10 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLand of the Lost Souls: My Life on the Streets Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5In the Blink of an Eye Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsStories I Accidentally Wrote While Daydreaming Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPlaytime for Truth Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAngels Descendants: Angels and Demons, Book two Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMidsummer Mysteries: Tales from the Queen of Mystery Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsStarve the Vulture: A Memoir Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Lost On Planet M-142 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsBattle for Resurgence Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Yada Yada Prayer Group Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Romanus Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Beach Reads: Short Stories from Bennett Bay: Stories from Bennett Bay, #0 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Cowboy for Keeps Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/57 best short stories - Absurdist Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWet Tropics III Consequences Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Murray Twins Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAn End and a Beginning: A Novel Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWhat Angels Fear Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTouch of Flame Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Caravan Tales: Steps Across The Attic Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFairPoint Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHungry Men Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Last Best Hope: A Civil War Alternate History Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSummer of Darkness Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe 88 Bus: and other short stories Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAnne Hereford Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Red Gift: The Peregrine Dunn Papers Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLast Stop Slumberland Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsJesus' Son: Stories Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Horror Fiction For You
Misery Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5We Used to Live Here: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Hidden Pictures: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5We Have Always Lived in the Castle Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Needful Things Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Only Good Indians Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I Am Legend Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Pet Sematary Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Annihilation: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Ocean at the End of the Lane: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5It Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Revival: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Reformatory: A Novel Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Stories of Ray Bradbury Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Skeleton Crew Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Holly Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Kind Worth Killing: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Different Seasons Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5You Like It Darker: Stories Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Troop Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The 120 Days of Sodom (Rediscovered Books): With linked Table of Contents Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Brother Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Leave the World Behind: A Novel Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Outsider: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Watchers: a spine-chilling Gothic horror novel now adapted into a major motion picture Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Whisper Man: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5My Best Friend's Exorcism: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Only One Left: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Hollow Places: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Related categories
Reviews for Mr. Earl
0 ratings0 reviews
Book preview
Mr. Earl - Vince Arnold Savarin
Mr. Earl
Vince Savarin
ISBN: 978-976-97220-3-3
(E-BOOK)
© Vince Arnold Savarin, 2024
Dedications
To my family, especially you Irella. Thank you for encouraging me to write down these crazy dreams.
Disclaimer
The following is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title
Dedications
Disclaimer
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: The Priest and The Rasta
Chapter 2: The Passenger
Chapter 3: The Dragon
Chapter 4: The Right Play
Chapter 5: Over the Boundary
Chapter 6: The Wicked Wicket
Chapter 7: Burning the Water Lily
Chapter 8: His Domain
Chapter 9: Reflections
Chapter 10: Monopoly
Chapter 11: The Visitor
Chapter 12: Φιλαργυρία
Chapter 13: Last, Last
About the Author
For desire is the root of all evils. Some persons, hungering in this way, have strayed from the faith and have entangled themselves in many sorrows.
(1 Timothy 6:10 CPDV)
Chapter 1: The Priest and The Rasta
An elderly, stately-looking man looked out the window of his hospital room. From the small old-fashioned radio by his side, the announcer reminded folks of the coming solar eclipse this afternoon. The sky was overcast, almost matching the grey walls on the inside of the ward. He looked down at the small bag he had brought with him. In the bag were the clothes he had come in, a bar of soap, a toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. It’s funny, how your entire life can be reduced to an overnight bag, he thought to himself as he began to change back into his civilian clothes.
A pair of black shoes carefully polished. Black dress pants carefully folded. A light brown semi-formal short-sleeved shirt. He decided to leave the shirt untucked, as he would not be performing any duties today. He reached into the bag and picked up another small item. A priest’s collar. As he stood up to adjust the collar a small box slipped out of his pants’ pocket.
You know you can’t take that with you right Father,
a concerned voice chimed in. It was the voice of his doctor who had just walked in. The priest felt a hot flush of embarrassment, rise in his cheeks.
Of course, Doc. After all. It’s just an empty box, I will dispose of it on my way out,
he replied quickly shoving the cigarette box deeper into a corner of his bag.
You should consider yourself lucky this time Father. But your history of smoking does pose a serious risk,
the doctor continued.
I consider it God’s mercy, that’s what it is. And I thank Him for blessing you with the knowledge and the skill, of course. It was the wake up call I needed to finally drop the habit. You won’t be seeing me in here again, God willing,
the Priest replied as he gathered his things and retrieved his discharge papers.
He stepped out into the morning light and couldn’t believe that he was out. There were two pigeons sitting on a telephone wire angling from the corner of the hospital’s surgical wing to a telephone pole nearby. He remembered the story of Noah’s arch and made the sign of the cross while descending the stairs to the exit.
Halfway down, a nurse passed him as she was heading up and she said; Good to see you up and about, Father Birmingham! But shouldn’t you be taking the elevator?
He replied, Dear child, I’ve been off my feet so long, I could use the exercise. I will be fine, thanks.
He slowly made his way to the front of the hospital, and as he neared the gate, he began to feel a little giddy. Perhaps the nurse was right, maybe I’m going too fast, he thought better of it and decided to sit on a nearby bench to catch his breath. There was a large overhanging tree giving shade. From where he sat, he had a perfect view of the entrance to the hospital. He could see the sign marked A & E Department, and one empty ambulance parked off to the side. People were walking in and out of the sliding-door entrance at a leisurely pace.
As he looked on, a man with dreads, a liberation-coloured vest, and khaki shorts, hopped toward him. The man had a cast over his left leg. Father Birmingham gestured for him to take a seat, and the man graciously accepted. The priest and the rasta sat in silence for a few minutes, both catching their breath and taking in the sites, on the small park bench overseeing the hospital.
The rasta then turned to the priest and said, Life, funny you know, Father.
His dreads were partially wrapped up under a Tam hat. A faint bead of sweat ran down his neck, revealing a small gold pendant with the peace-sign on it. Father Birmingham turned to him, his own small silver crucifix gleamed quickly, reflecting off a passing car, in contrast to the Rasta man’s own neckless.
How so?
he said.
My own scene, I was there checking, and this fella just swerved past me in his fancy iron. Near take out my leg!
the other man replied, lifting his cast leg up slightly.
Oh, son. It couldn’t have been too bad. You’re out here now on this bench with me after all,
the priest replied, giving his best reassuring voice.
Father, the man near jam my foot. Lucky, I jumped out the way. But now I got this cast for six weeks. Now I cannot do my fishing.
The rasta responded in frustration.
Well, I guess we’re both invalids for the next few weeks then. I just had surgery,
the priest responded. God has a funny way of snapping you back into focus.
Is so it is,
the rasta responded, giving a long sigh as he adjusted his crutches to one side. There were small scratches on his forearms. Superficial lesions mostly. One appeared slightly longer and was covered by plaster. A siren could be heard growing steadily louder. The gates of the hospital gave a loud clank as the guard activated the mechanism to open it to accommodate the incoming vehicle. The priest and the rasta turned simultaneously expecting to see an ambulance first. Instead, they saw a large tow truck and then behind it was an ambulance. As the tow truck sped past them, they saw it was carrying a black mangled car.
Lord, have mercy!
Father Birmingham exclaimed in a slight raise of his calm, measured voice. I wonder who the poor soul is, in the car.
Jah bless! It’s him!
The Rasta responded.
I don’t follow,
the priest responded confused. He didn’t always keep track of local affairs. It was another habit he hoped to change.
Everybody knows that piece of iron. That car belongs to the richest men on the island. Or so they say.
The rasta man continued. Another vehicle sped past them; this time it was a fire truck. A big commotion was developing around the entrance of the A&E department. It looked like the victim was still in the damaged vehicle. They could see the fire-officers had removed some equipment from the back of the fire truck. Some doctors and nurses came out from the hospital. The gathering crowd made it difficult for the two men on the bench to see what was going on.
It’s Mr. Earl.
The rasta man said.
Chapter 2: The Passenger
The road to Pont Cassé was a dark dangerous dilapidated one. But Mr. Joseph pressed on anyway. As the only truck driver in the area, he had to make the run. His family depended on him. The streetlamps were quite far apart and large sections of the road were simply pitch dark. He finally made it to the village, and came upon a modest house, a woman with a worried look on her face stepped out of the front door.
Finally. I don’t know how you can see to drive in that darkness,
she said whilst walking up to greet him.
Moon was out tonight, Birtha, I can see just fine,
the man retorted back, in a playful voice, as he stepped out of the vehicle. He turned to his left and shouted, Come on Earl, let’s off-load.
Yes, Daddy,
answered a younger voice.
A lanky adolescent stepped out of the passenger seat and began making his way to the back of the truck. Their vehicle was a large Bedford truck, light green in colour, with specks of brown where the paint was wearing out in some places, and rust was piercing though in others.
The muddy tires squeaked in the slightly damp track in front of the wooden house as they began unpacking boxes.
Remember son, we have to get up early to take these to the market,
Joseph said to his son, don’t oversleep eh boy. I am warning you.
The boy nodded in silent obedience as he took box after box inside the house. It was already almost midnight.
Joe, why do you have to get up so early nah? Look how late you reach already.
His wife muttered in protest as she helped them unpack.
Strangest thing, there was a bad accident along the road. Took a while to clear out
, he replied. "Never seen