Knockleberry Road

The year was 1913. Down a long dusty dirt road two unpainted clapboard houses stood side by side. Higogollup-a-flips the man excitedly shouted. His ten year old son had passed the English test that day. So then all was well. The exam meant so much to the man who had failed English time after time, but his son proved that he could hold his own. Studying by the light of a dim kerosene lamp he had prepared for a full week before the exam. The only thing that kept him awake during those long cold nights was a big grey moth that flew around his head. Somewhere in all this he read of a monkey with a silver bowl that would bow three times. And now in his hands he held a plain piece of yellow paper marked with a big red letter C. That’s all that mattered. Higogollup-a-flips his father said again beaming with a smile.