A story submitted to the Guyana Prize for Literature 2024

A STIFLED cry escaped his lips as her image flashed before his eyes, and he took a deep breath to control the pain.
The bus reached Parika, and, disembarking, Shaan looked around, awed by the bustling marketplace with its bountiful fruits and vegetables. He stood there for a little while before following passengers to the boats plying the Essequibo River.
The mighty river fascinated his young mind, and the boat ride, though scary, gave him a little thrill. He disembarked at the island of Leguan and stood at the wharf with several other people, looking around uncertainly.
“I hope this uncle shows up for me,” he said quietly.
“Young man.” A deep voice from behind broke into his thoughts, almost startling him.
He turned to see a tall, well-built man, probably in his late forties, standing there with a taut look on his face.
“Are you Avina’s son?”
“Y-y-yes,” Shaan answered.
The man looked at him for a moment and shook his head with a wry expression.
“I’m Uncle Jarred. Come on.”
He turned and walked abruptly to a black Pathfinder parked a little way from the wharf. On the way, Uncle Jarred said not another word until they arrived at the house.
“This,” he said to Shaan, “is the family house.”
It was a beautiful colonial-type farmhouse built on a large section of land and surrounded by a wide expanse of agricultural land.
“Awesome!” Shaan exclaimed.
He followed his uncle into the house and inhaled again, awed by the beautiful interior and furnishings. He had no words to describe it, so he said, “Cool.”
He was shown to his mother’s room, and a chill seeped through his body as he walked around, looking at everything that was hers. Tears welled in his eyes, and he lay down on her bed, overwhelmed with emotion. He was later aroused from a light sleep by a knock on the door and Uncle Jarred’s voice: “Come down for some dinner.”
He had a refreshing bath and joined his uncle in the living room for a simple dinner. After dinner, he sat on the shaded porch at the front of the house, admiring the beautiful garden under lights.
“I wonder why my m-m-mother left such a rich place to l-l-live in squalor,” he mused. Uncle Jarred was smoking a cigarette, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, and after crushing the cigarette butt in the almost full ashtray, he said to Shaan, “It’s clear you didn’t have a good life, given your physical build and abnormal outlook due to having alcoholic parents.”
Shaan smiled wryly but said nothing.
“So, what is the story,” Uncle Jarred asked curiously, “that caused you to fear for your life?”
Shaan took a deep breath and told his uncle how he had found Bella in tall bushes and taken her home, giving her the love and care she needed. She became his special friend, but one day, whilst she was playing on the road, a biker who often bullied Shaan intentionally knocked her down. When the message reached Shaan, he ran all the way home and carefully picked up her broken body. A concerned neighbour had called the vet, who couldn’t come that afternoon. Shaan cleaned Bella’s wounds and held her in his arms all night to comfort her, but the next morning, she took her last breath.
He cried, heartbroken, and that afternoon he buried Bella, the only friend he had who loved him for who he was.
Two days later, he armed himself with a big piece of wood and went looking for Bella’s killer. He found him at a bar with his friends, walked up to him bravely and said, “Y-y-you killed my d-dog.”
The bully looked at him and laughed.
“Well, look who’s here: the little stutter boy who lost his stupid dog.”
Before he could continue his taunts, Shaan hit him with the wood. Before the bully knew what was happening, and with the anger inside him, Shaan hit him again as he fell over. The bully’s friends advanced, but Shaan swung the wood wildly, hitting them too. This, along with his enraged screaming, made them back away. After dealing the blows, he escaped and ran home. He knew they would come for him, so he hid in the house, for he had nowhere else to go and no one to stand by him.
They came late that night, swearing loudly and trying to kick down the door, but left when a neighbour called the police. They swore they would break every bone in his body when they found him. That was when he knew he had to leave for a while.
Uncle Jarred shook his head in disbelief. “Imagine a small guy like you beating four guys. I guess you’ve got strength inside you. Sorry about your dog.”
Shaan smiled and gave a small nod, happy to be appreciated a little.
A long moment of silence followed as Uncle Jarred lit another cigarette. Then he asked, “Did your mother mention anything about her family?”
“N-no.”
He got up and stared out into the farmlands, and after a long while, stated with an edge of anger in his voice, “She did wrong in leaving. She caused the family to become broken.”
Shaan listened but didn’t respond. Then Uncle Jarred turned abruptly and said, “Good night.”
Shaan couldn’t sleep until late, his mind going to the house and Bella, and as his eyes closed, he heard his mother’s voice: “There’s a room…”
Shaan sat up in bed, a strange fear that something bad had happened in this house.
He awoke late the next morning and wasn’t quite sure where he was. It took a long while for his brain to process his new situation.
Breakfast had been served on the porch, and his uncle said to him in a relaxed mood, “Sit and eat. There’s always plenty of food in the house.”
Shaan smiled with thanks and enjoyed a scrumptious meal. Then Uncle Jarred prepared to leave to check on some work on the farm, and he said to Shaan, “Your eldest aunt is having a little family get-together. We’ll go later in the day.”
With his mother’s words lingering in his mind, Shaan asked hesitantly, “Okay. Umm, I was wondering if I could ha-ha-have a tour of the h-house.”
“Later,” Uncle Jarred said, dismissing his request.
At the family gathering later that day, many relatives were there, none of whom he knew. They looked at him with forced smiles, and Shaan felt his heart sink, knowing their lukewarm indifference stemmed from his condition and their perception of his father. Because of this, he feared they might not embrace him in the family, but in the next moment, the situation changed in a surprising way when Uncle Jarred told them that Shaan had beaten up four older guys single-handedly.
One male cousin almost choked on his drink.
“What? This small guy beat four guys?” he queried in an incredulous tone. “How did you manage that, bro?”
“They killed my dog, so I got revenge,” Shaan answered casually.
“Oh, damn.”
The cousins laughed, looking at Shaan now with interest.
“You’re like John Wick, man.”
That was when Shaan laughed a little, then said soberly, “S-she was the best friend I had since my m-m-mother and father died.”