Storytime with Lucky

With a swirl of dust the white truck passed us as we drove along the track leaving El Doradito.  A shriek chortled out from the bed of the truck as it flew by.  The three passengers bounced and jolted along and I recognized Enrique who waved and hollered at us, his chop of black hair flopping in the wind.  We caught up to the truck.  "Where are you going?!" Enrique hollered over the sound of the engine, leaning as far out of the truck bed as he could manage as we passed them again.  We turned off the dirt road onto cement and fell in line behind a small blue Ford pickup whose bed and cab were loaded to the axles with 15 some odd men returning from work in the cane fields. Enrique and I Arriving at the stop sign before the highway he leaped from the bed of the truck and ran alongside Debora's car, tapping on the windows.  "Where are you going?" He repeated. We gave him a ride to La Lima, dropping him off alone at a corner so he could walk the rest of...

The roar of fire could be heard even from the village. Armed with shovels and flashlights and sticks and headlights they strode the half mile down the dusty road toward the light flickering in the distance.  The excitement was almost tangible.  Beams danced hither and fro as they marched. The flames lapped the night sky, turning the darkness bright as day.  The crackle and roar was almost deafening.  The fire drew them in, a beckoning.  But then in a moment rose to greater life and power and sent them away; the flames leaping even higher to the sky and the ash and sparks and leaves aflame came hurtling back to the ground in greater numbers.  They retreated in awe to the road. Once to the road, they waited with feet spread apart, crouching in readiness for the war to begin.  The first of many darted out and was killed in an instant.  Then another, and another!  The rats and mice, driven by the fire from their homes in the sug...