David Wiley

• Michael Dang, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2011

David Wiley stared through the entrance of the small purple tent. His abnormally big, green eyes were stuck on the distant setting sun across the horizon of orange red skies, birds and different shaped clouds. Every night he saw this image in the sky he felt a great sensation that was building up inside his body. As he breathed in and out his big, bear belly bulged out of his t-shirt. He folded his flabby arms behind his head with his tiny fingers interlocked. He leaned back placing his short chubby legs on the round table in front of him. His scar on his right cheek itched. As his hand maneuvered around the back of his head searching for a comfortable place his hand was prickled by his perfectly arranged spiky hair.
David leaned forward, shifting his chair back into a proper, safe position when he heard footsteps drawing closer to the purple tent. As the footsteps became louder, he shuffled and stacked a deck of intricately drawn cards and polished the mysterious, bluish, cloudy glass ball. The couple came into the tent and sat down. He leaned his head to the right and touched his shoulder with his head twice before asking the couple a few probing questions. As he listened to their responses, he up-turned the cards out on the table. The cards were placed so perfectly and quickly and it was like a choreographed dance performance. He leaned in close and explained the meaning of the pictures.
Minutes later, the couple emerged from the tent as happy as a kid at Christmas. As David waited for his next customer, he got up from his chair that he’d been sitting on since the morning and walked out of the tent and onto the grass. On his left, busy roads filled with cars, changing traffic lights and honking noises. In the background many men in suits with briefcases walked beside the grey buildings and skyscrapers covered with glass. On his right, more busy roads, suits and
buildings. In the distance behind the buildings and orange red, the sun had just settled. Now the skies were dark and many bright stars were visible. Soon the beauty of the scene was ruined by light pollution
beaming from the buildings and street lights.
David stepped back into the tent; he looked at the watch he bought with the money he made from telling people’s fortunes. It was 8:30, still early. He had enough time to pack up the tent, go home and catch his favourite show. He packed his things into a large backpack and strapped it over his shoulders. With one last look at the space where his tent had just been, he set off into the glowing dusk.