Alan's Story

Chapter 1

It was a hot summers day on Prince Edward Island. There was sweat slowly trickling down Alan's brow. The construction site was busy and crowded with dust coming from every direction. It was nearly lunch time and Alan was ready for a break.

It wasn't the easiest life for Alan Clover. Born and raised in the city of Vancouver, British Columbia, at about the age of 20 Alan decided the hell with B.C. and with family and moved the to the opposite side of Canada to the humble little island of P.E.I. Alan didn't have many friends growing up and the ones that he did have he considered not worth staying for. Family didn't mean much either. Growing up wasn't the worst but also wasn't the best. So, he decided to embark on a new trail on his own.

Life on his own on the island was not glamorous. During the spring, summer, and fall seasons Alan would be working construction or maintenance or whatever he could find. During the harsh winters that hit the island, he would break his back working in snow removal. Yes, life - as we all sooner or later realize - was brutal but Alan was satisfied that he was on his own, earning his way, and not having anyone hanging over his shoulder.

Alan took a quick glance at his watch and saw that it was nearing 1pm. Deciding it was a good time to have his lunch break, he put down the shovel that he was using to dig a trench and slowly and lazily slumbered to his truck. Upon arriving on the island Alan had purchased himself a maroon coloured 1987 Dodge Dakota from an old farmer. The farmer had accepted $500 cash for the old and abused lump of steel. It wasn't much but it was "his truck" and he was content with that fact alone.

As he opened the truck door to get his food, Alan heard a familiar large burley voice call out, "Hey Alan! You coming to the bar with the rest of the fellas tonight?"

It was Donald (but everyone called him Don), a big, harry, middle aged man, who at first glance, would probably cause you to make you make a mess in your pants. But to those who knew Don, he was nothing but a great big teddy bear who loved spending time with his work mates at the bar.

"No thanks Don, I'll be ok tonight", replied Alan with a hint of firmness. It wasn't that Alan had an issue with drinking, in fact, he enjoyed it very much, but he knew that it was Friday night and he didn't feel like like being in the same bar with a heavy drinker such as Don. It still baffled Alan that Don was still inviting him out after he had refused every invite prior.

Alan got into the driver's seat of the truck, closed the door and rolled down the window for some air. Generally, all the workers would gather in certain area for lunch and discuss everything wrong with their lives, but Alan preferred to be on his own and have a little peace and quiet. It was not that he had a lot of pestering thoughts on his mind to think about, but more of the enjoyment of the beautiful land he was living in.

The day progressed as any other day would and soon did 5 o'clock roll around. Alan packed up his belongings and headed for the truck. The drive home was about 10 minutes. Before moving to the island, Alan had been looking for a place to live for some time. He wanted a small independent house that wouldn't be too expensive and also would give him something to work on. He didn't have much saved but never had an issue with working or finding work if needed and so the bank agreed to grant him a mortgage to buy the house. The house was small, just a bit bigger than a mobile trailer, but it was good enough for one person and had it's fair share of work along with it. Alan enjoyed that fact as it gave him weekend projects. And, the same as with the truck, it was something that he could call his own.

The home was located on a red dirt road that was off of the main road. Alan made a left onto the dirt road and slowly made his way through the trees for about half a kilometre. Upon arriving at the house he parked the truck, stepped out and observed the surroundings. The late afternoon sunlight was shooting through the trees like tightly drawn arrows and he could hear a beautiful array of birds singing. He took a deep breath and felt satisfied.

He approached the house, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside. The house did not have many rooms and none of them were cluttered either. Alan did not have many possessions to his name as his bi-weekly paycheques all went to his monthly bills and the necessities of life. If anything was left over, it went to supplies and materials needed for the ongoing project of the home restoration. Alan removed his shoes and headed towards the kitchen to drop his lunch box off on the counter. It felt nice to be alone in his home after a hard weeks work. He decided that it would be a good idea to go and take a shower as he was full of dust from digging the trenches earlier in the day.

Once he was clean and feeling fresh, Alan made his way back to the kitchen to pull out the ingredients to prepare his dinner. Living on his own, Alan had made it a sort of hobby to learn how to cook a variety of different types of meals. He had purchased various cookbooks from the local book store to try and learn the art and found himself enjoying it quite a lot. But this night was not for learning as he was exhausted. He pulled out a package of Hot Italian sausages from the freezer to begin thawing, as well as some carrots from the fridge. He also got some rice from the cupboard and filled a pot of water to begin boiling. Once the carrots were peeled and washed, and the water was nearing boiling point, Alan stepped out the back door onto the tiny fragile patio, and ignited the barbecue. Once the rice was put in the boiling water, he placed the sausages on the hot barbecue grill.

By the time the meal was completed, Alan felt even more exhausted, but was happy that at last he could enjoy his hot fresh meal and relax. He sat down on his one couch which he acquired second hand. It was black leather material with some scratches and rips, but it fulfilled it's purpose. In front of him was his small rear-projection television. Attached to TV was a pair of "bunny ear" antenna which was able to receive only about 5 channels that were viewable. He turned it on, navigated to the local news, and began to eat his warm meal. The meal was pleasurable, but listening to the news was not. Truth be told, the news in P.E.I. was no where near as horrible as it was back home in Vancouver, but it still made Alan sad to hear of the local tragedies and how they seemed to be just everywhere. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling, thinking, wondering what life would be like with no crime or violence. Where people treated others equally but also knew how to respect the privacy of others. He could see it, he could feel himself being emerged in it. Alan opened his eyes. He saw the wooden planked ceiling that had an abundance of water damage from over the years and realized he was back. Back to real life where everything was wrong.

After the meal was finished and the dishes washed, Alan grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and once again, sat on the couch, only this time with a book in his hand and the TV off. The book was entitled: The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Alan swivelled to turn sideways on the couch and put his feet up. He turned on a small lamp at the left side of the couch and began to read. He loved the way the book was written. How the characters had no names, but titles instead. The Man and The Boy. That was it. Simple. Alan wished life could be so simple. He found himself reading late into the night that evening.