| A lone stranger walked briskly on the dusty road that never ends. His distant image shimmered, distorted in the heat of the morning sun. The stranger was a young man, about twenty in his years, maybe more, maybe less. The few worldly possessions he had were in a well-worn leather satchel under his arm. His trusted companion was an umbrella. He had acquired it somehow, somewhere, by a passing chance. If the need arose, it sheltered him from the burning sun or from rain. At times it had been a handy deterrent to ward off any over inquisitive dogs. And once, when wielded with the dexterity of a skilled swordsman inspired by fear for his wellbeing, it had served him well in convincing some ruffians that there would be no easy pickings from his empty pockets.
Read more about the author “Harijs Upenieks”
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