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    Gold Leaves from Havana
    Gold Leaves from Havana
    Gold Leaves from Havana
    Ebook145 pages1 hour

    Gold Leaves from Havana

    By Clare L Rolfe

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Three people searching for a way to buy freedom.

    One can't decide between greed, and paying the

    debts of her husband. Another wants to buy a bit of

    luxury. While the other an escape from the

    corrupt law makers who keep her prisoner.

    In pursuit is the Sheriff, who knows the human

    heart better than anyone, and t

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherClare Rolfe
    Release dateOct 23, 2022
    ISBN9780645088069
    Gold Leaves from Havana
    Author

    Clare L Rolfe

    CL (Clare) Rolfe lives in the Southern Highlands NSW, Australia. Inspired by her love for travelling, art, reading and the admiration for people who had overcome significant hardships she encountered during her time working in healthcare, she began to focus on her writing rather than just daydreaming about the stories in her mind. Ten Letters is her first published work and along with philosophizing, she also dabbles in poetry and short stories.

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      Book preview

      Gold Leaves from Havana - Clare L Rolfe

      Introduction

      This series of stories were inspired by a brief trip to Cuba post Castro. It was a fusion of the heart and mind: sensual and thought-provoking equally. The enduring impressions include the vim and bustle of the people, equatorial heat, and the almost cubist aesthetic of Spanish Colonialism, 1950’s American cars interspersed with the heroes of the communist revolution in particular that of Che Guevara.

      The history of Cuba prior to and subsequent to the revolution is available for anyone who is interested to inform themselves. Pervading the tour conversations were the polemics around Cuba and the USA.

      These stories are not intended to be a critique of the political or economic systems of these countries even though one could write in biblical proportions on those topics. The contrast between each nation in their subordination of the essentials of human need: food, housing, healthcare, and education to political idealism versus wealth creation, form the foundations of how these nations define themselves. One tolerates dissent up to a point while the other retains strict control over information and freedom of speech. Both have used revolutions to achieve independent nation states. Both countries instill a strong sense of national pride and loyalty in their populations.

      When reading the protagonists and antagonists about Cuba, both acknowledge the successes of the revolution in terms of removal of a corrupt government, the old *Latifundia system and exploitation from unequal trade agreements with the US. And most importantly improving the education level and healthcare for poorer Cubans.

      But its critics speak of the restriction on information and right to express disagreement with the government and its punitive measures to control anything deemed counter revolutionary.

      The people themselves have endured significant economic hardship in terms of food and fuel shortages at various times, depending on the mood of the superpowers which have an existential influence in all our lives. And then there are those who fled due to being accused of being anti-government and forced into exile.

      It wasn’t lost on any of us tourists what it would have been like to work in a sugar cane field all day in forty degrees and mercurial humidity for little or no pay.

      When the stories crystallised enough to be begin writing, the old Hollywood Westerns formed the stage setting. These movies developed the popular cultural icons of American Libertarianism. The films were almost dystopian realities where it was the individual surviving in a hostile world with less than noble motivations. This imagery was contrasted against the socialist ideology of Cuba and where that may fit in a future world; a world where AI has constant access to data and information. And like the old westerns there is the ubiquitous Sheriff and the lure of a bag of gold.

      Clare L Rolfe

      * Latifundia - During the modern colonial period, the Portuguese and Spanish monarchs often rewarded military service with extensive land grants in Brazil, Bolivia, Mexico, Venezuela, Uruguay, Cuba, Chile, and Argentina. The economics depended on slave labour often by the forced recruitment of local labourers and peasants allowed by colonial law.

      Hearts of Gold

      The sign Bone Town stood above her. It was draped in copper wires and microchips burnished to a perfect glean. The sign dazzled with reflections of sunlight as the breeze drifted over the decorations. Underneath painted in red letters she read Festivales Satellite Day 1 to now.

      The train hissed once more signalling its’ shut down. Anne collected her pack and put her mask over her face.

      She walked into the main street. A child strode past her talking to a robot constructed from three satellite antennae welded together. They wore matching sombreros made from the dishes. The locals stared at her as she made her way down the street. She was dressed in city attire. The green satin suit with culottes had been her favourite. It gave her confidence and reminded her of a younger self. She walked toward the hotel, inside her heart thudded like a massive drum embedded in her chest. She desperately wanted to turn and get on the train but knew there was no going back. She had walked out on her life after the debtors had come to seek revenge on Jack. She was here because of him, and he was going to make amends to her.

      The hotel was nameless. It was three storeys high. The remnants of industrial paraphernalia shaped into a perfect cube matched the rest of the architecture along the street. A clerk looked at her as she walked in.

      Welcome to Bone Town.

      Hello, I need a room for a few nights. Preferably up on the top floor. I like quiet and security.

      Sure Ma’am. We have only one room left on that floor.

      That is fine. Is there a window?

      Yes, it looks over to the south.

      Ok how much?

      Well with the festivities and all, it’ll be one hundred a night and extra for any juice to plug into the main networks.

      That’s a lot. I won’t need extra juice. How about ninety a night.

      One hundred or leave it replied the clerk.

      Anne took out the credit chip and handed it over. The clerk swiped it.

      Just follow the stairs to the top and you will see the room directly ahead spoke the clerk as he placed a bracelet on her wrist.

      Anne puffed slightly as she reached the top of the stairs. She swiped her bracelet to open the room. Inside was a single bed, on the opposite wall a window with a writing desk butted up against the sill. At the end of the room, was the bathroom. The entire space would have been no than one metre by two metres.

      She put her backpack on the desk and looked out the window. Across the boundary wall, she saw the sweeping Arizona desert. It was rocky interspersed with massive cacti. Irradiated by the collapse one hundred years ago they thrived and now stood as tall as sequoia pines. Beyond the forest in the shimmering haze, she saw the direction she needed to go.

      She took off her coat off and washed in the small basin. The water was refreshing as it removed the fine scum of dust off her skin. She lay down.

      She thought of Jack. Her heart swelled with love and anger. She shut out Lucy’s face as it beamed back at her.

      Jack had told her about this place on his death bed.

      The gold is on the last carriage of the Arizona express. It was meant for you and the girl. Enough to buy your way out of any life associated with me.

      It’s stolen Jack she had replied. You killed all those people to get a bit of gold. They were honest folk. They didn’t deserve to die. No amount would ever make me sleep well knowing that it was bought with the blood of honest folk. If I ever get that gold, then I will return it to whoever owns it. Tell me where it comes from so, I can make amends.

      They stole it from the backs of their labourers and then the bank stole it from them. No one is innocent of a crime here.

      But the bank didn’t steal it with their lives.

      He had grunted at her innocent comment What about the people who perished in the fields or children who didn’t have enough to eat to keep the wealthy ones overfed?

      Anne didn’t answer him. She had followed his eyes as he had looked across at Lucy.

      She will be fine. I’ll get her educated. That will be her wealth.

      They’ll come after you. The gold is the best chance to escape and buy your freedom.

      I know but you brought them here in the first place. Is that what this was all about Jack. Freedom.

      What else is there? he had replied

      Us. There was us. You are a fool. You doomed us to be criminals.

      Go to the fall zone. It’s dangerous but if you’re quick, you’ll be ok. I stayed too long, and the poisoned air got into me.

      Those were his last words to her as she had sat dutifully beside him watching him take his last breath.

      So now she lay with greed in her heart and blood on her hands. Lucy was stashed away in one of the colleges in San Fran. Hopefully she would forget about her mother and remain anonymous to the debt collectors.

      She rubbed the scar on her stomach where the prod of the debtor had struck her. She had managed to wrestle it away from her and land a lethal blow as well. She shuddered at the memory of all the blood that had burst out of the woman’s body.

      She clenched her hands in anger again It was your fault Jack.

      The firecracker screaming through the air startled her out of her musing. Looking out of the window toward the street below, the smoke of the exploding crackers cast a pale blue haze. She saw the motheaten moon through the cacophony of burning mineral powder.

      You look as worn out as the world she said to the forlorn moon. Colonised and mined so now great pock marks dotted its once sacrosanct face.

      Her stomach rumbled. The sound of a piano and clapping echoed through the windowpane, signalling the saloon down the street was in full swing.

      She put her suit on and tidied her hair. The air didn’t catch in her throat here, so she left her mask behind.

      The clerk watched her as she walked out. She heard the noise of a crowd cheering. Another firecracker went off. It was up toward the train station.

      Walking into the bar she saw a group of men sitting together. They were playing cards. A few more people were scattered around.

      Ma’am, spoke the bartender.

      I’m looking for a meal, and some absinthe.

      Turning he grabbed a fluorescent green bottle and a glass.

      "Tonight’s special is fake

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