[Continuation. I know you're all going to ask for more about the character, but I'm still trying to get a feel for them and to understand them before I describe them. Thank you for any reviews you can give me.]
The people led simple lives; farming and agriculture were the main source of living, yet there was call for skilled craftsmanship as well. Creating furniture, crates and tribal souvenirs to be exported to the capital, Bogotá, as well as metalworking and harvesting coal and emeralds were the main life support to all those within the village.
The people were not poor, yet they did not own mansions. Simplicity was the key in this place, not only with living standards, but with life itself. The men worked hard for ten plain hours a day and returned home to plain women making plain food – almost every ingredient had to be grown, hunted or picked within the village. External contact was rare for the people. The occasional tourist would disturb the solitude two or three times every year, but it was always short-lived visits that amounted to nothing in the extended life of the community. They were alone, and they were content with this information.
The ragged stranger had struggled onto one of the many thrashing branches of the nearest tree, and was carefully scanning the sight ahead; it’s viciously interceptive eyes missing nothing despite the howling droplets of rain clouding the air. Nothing seemed out of place tonight. The thatched roofs were intact, the earth still, the air disturbed only by the tempestuous lambaste of lightning and thunder. Peace, in the mezzo of chaos.
For now.
All traces of last night’s squall gone, the village returned to the general hubbub that accompanied it throughout the days. The thin, almost famished children ran about, screaming at their parents and crying when they tripped and cut their knees or hands on the harsh ground. The boys waved sticks at each other, cheering names of gods or great warriors of the past, while the girls danced with their woven zarape’s clinging to their thin arms from the intense heat. A dense layer of warmth had settled down upon the village and despite being so near to the mountains, the Sun was scorching the already caked clay earth.
There was a murmur brushing through the air. According to the village elders and the scarce few that had dealings with people and places outside of the community, a caravan of tourists was going to stop in the area for a couple of days. Though there had been no official confirmation, the ghost of the rumour haunted everyone in the village, their hardy, and yet inexperienced minds were submerged in fantasies of both glamorous celebrities from distant lands and cruel monsters with mutated features.
The children were the most excited. After living for several years in an isolated region of the world, many of them began questioning the purpose of this solitude, and whether they had a place in it. Though parents often quelled these curiosities swiftly, there were those who dreamed of grand palaces or molded steel and glass, abundances of food, swarms of people and lives that presided at the top of the food chain, instead of this unavoidable bottom.
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