Shara’s Marbles - A Short Story
Shara was sitting under a tree, his eyes on the ground, looking idly at a tiny plant, bent and bruised by the numerous people and animals that had trampled upon it. Around him, people were busily going to and fro, some trying to sell and others to buy what village folk from nearby hamlets had brought to the market.
A little distance away, a group of boys were engrossed in a game of marbles. They had dug little holes in the ground and were trying to knock marbles into them. Each time one of them knocked another’s marble into the hole he would win the marble from its owner. Shara had lost all his marbles to the boys.
They had taunted him when Shara first showed them his beautiful marbles and forced him to join them Travel to North America Cuba in their game. A trader from far away had gifted them to Shara in gratitude for Shara’s help. Shara had never seen marbles as beautiful as those and though he had never played marbles with the boys he joined them to show that he was not afraid.
“Shara, you don’t know how to play with them. You will lose them to us,” said one.
“If you have the courage, come and печь свч play with us and then see who they belong to,” said another.
“You’re a coward, Shara! You will never have the courage to play with those,” said yet another boy.
“Hello,” said a man’s voice.
Shara looked up through his large, saddened eyes and saw a tall man with a big face looking down at him. He had long hair and a beard that reached down to his chest.
“Hello,” Shara answered.
“I know why you’re sad. It’s because you’ve lost your marbles. Here, come with me,” said the man, offering Shara his hand.
“Do you have marbles like those? Will you give me some?” Shara’s eyes lit up in hope as he took the man’s hand and pulled himself up.
“I could, but that’s not why I want you to come with me,” the man replied, starting to walk away from the market.
Shara looked confused, his eyes losing the gleam they had revealed moments ago. He hesitated and then decided to follow the kind-looking man, quickly matching his long slow strides with his small, fast pace.
They walked in silence for a while and Shara noticed that they were headed out of the village with its small stone and mud houses. “You see that hill over there? That is where we are going,” the man said, as if reading Shara’s mind.
“But no one goes there,” Shara said, alarm ringing in his voice, “there are evil things there. If anyone goes there the evil catches him and causes him to suffer.”
“Hmmm….we’ll find out what is there. Let’s go and see for ourselves,” the man answered. “Don’t you want to know my name?”
Shara nodded his little head.
“You can call me Jumba,” the man said, “…where I come from, it means a friend, a good friend. Do you think I can be a good friend?” the man’s eyes twinkled as he looked at Shara. In reply Shara nodded again. He was thinking about the marbles that he had owned for just a day before the boys took them away from him.
As they walked into the desert, Shara saw a wild rabbit, its fur shining in the afternoon sun, dart from between Jumba’s legs and wondered why the rabbit came so close. Whenever he wanted to play with them and pet them they would scamper away from him. Suddenly, Jumba turned to Shara and asked, “do you want to play with
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