Zire Buzette

Zire Buzette
Based on the story written by Maurice Des Ombriaux
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I am living in a small village in Belgium, my name is Mari and I want to write about a man from my village, Zire Buzette. More details about the man will be in the story.

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Zire Buzette was a poor man in our village, who suffered from a dry and painful cough for almost all of his life, the cough that had a high pitch noise and seemed to tear his chest. Many of the villagers would say, when seeing him coughing: "Poor Zire, he has no long to live."
Zire had two different jobs during the Winter and Summer. During the Summer, he used to work as a plasterer; he left home ealry in the morning with his bucket and brushes, and coughed all the time while passing the roads to work. "Poor Zire, with this health condition, he is working a lot, he has no long to live." said everyone. Nothing could persuade him to go to a hospital, his blood was being poisoned more and more. "He has no long to live". But Zire went off to make the houses beautiful and white and coughed on his ladder with the brush in his hand. People were looking for him all the time to bring him to thier houses to paint thier houses, for the sake of sympaty; because, they were thinking that poor Zire had no long to live. When he was working at people houses, usually they provided him with good food and soup, and saying to themselves: Poor Zire, he is sick and has no long to live, lets provide him with good food; who knows, today or tomorrow he will die. Everywhere, people offered him and made him the best food and wine in the village. "Poor Zire, he is no long to live" they said.
Yet he lived on, and even on Sundays he played violin for young people, for they wanted to dance. While he played, he coughed. "Poor Zire, he must be cold sitting on that chair, coughing and shivering. Ah no, he has no long to live." And so, at every pause he was offered a good drink and a peice of cake, the least thing that everyone wanted to do for him, who had no long to live. At the same time, Zire was liked as a musician, no one could have people dance as he did.
Zire never refused anything, he drank everything and ate almost anything that was offered, without hurrying himself. "It is his disease" they thought. "He need food, he is poor and sick, he has no long to live." Zire also went to neighbors house to thier parties to make the youngest people dance, and everywhere he was treated better than a worker.
During the winters, he was not able to work as a plasterer and people were not interested in that job during the winter. Zire worked as a shoemaker during the winter, and almost all people in the village asked him to make shoes for them. "Poor zire has no long to live, lets give him a chance of work." said villagers.
Weak and coughing Zire who had no long to live, had already burried two wives. The first wife married him out of money; she had tought "It does not bind me a long time, he has no long to live and then I will have all of his assets". I have to mention here that Zire had a big house in the village, and he had no relatives. She died of a chill.
The second one also married him for his money. "He has no long to live and it is a good business. I will inherit from him" she thought. She died.

The rest of the story is very interesting; you will read how three brothers living in the village tried to own Zire's house and land... follow next week please :) ...Mari

Tom and Jack

I couldn't understand why the two brothers were fighting. I tried to be an intercessor, but a shout from Tom stopped me from intervening. Tom is the head of the mine and many workers were working under him. Tom asked some mine diggers to help him throw Jack, his brother, in a well that lead to some underground canals that have no way out. At the last moment, Jack said Tom " You are not going to let the sun go down, are you, Tom?" Tom said nothing. Tom threw Jack in the canals and closed the well with sand and clay. Tom walked to the tent, where tea and potatoes were ready for him, but he couldn't eat. He sat at the table; while seemed nervous. He started walking around, going back and forth in the tent. Tom couldn't forget his brother's last appeal: "You are not going to let sun go down, are you?" He remembered an old poet, without caring about the poem: "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath." The words was like a good advice for Tom, when they let the sun go down on their wrath, that is likely to worry them at night. I found my self as restless as Tom. I was not able to do anything, just watching and praying for a change in Tom's mind, for I still hopped to draw jack alive from the underground canals. Later on, I become aware that Jack started the quarrel, although he admitted it and apologized. As time was passing, I saw that Tom was getting more sad. Suddenly I saw Tom running to one of the shafts as someone shouted at him: "For God's sake, Tom come here!" The diggers were worried about Tom, too; because, they knew that going to that shaft is a risk that may cause serious problems for him, but Tom had made up his mind and did not listen to the diggers. All the diggers saw what had happened. It was not a good decision to go down to that kind of shafts with no wood at the sides with that sort of unstable ground.At any time, there was the chance of shaft collapsing and inducing Tom to his unforeseen death. Tom was shouting as was running to the end of the shaft: "Jack! Run to the face to the end of the passage! Run for your life!" Tom asked the diggers to give him the tools. he knelt on the damp clay, and started digging like a crazy man. He refused to give the tools to others to dig, for he thought that the other might be slow in bringing out his brother. He counted that he had 6 or 8 feet to go and he knew that the air would not last long there even if the roof had not already collapsed and crushed his brother. He was so tired and huge drops of sweat were shining on his forehead and face. His breath were so deep, but yet he struck so strongly. Once he stopped and heard a sound, like beating on a stone, he realized that Jack was safe. Tom dug again until he could make a hole to the canal where Jack was standing. "Thanks God, Jack! You are safe !" Tom shouted. "Yes Tom, you are in time, I can hardly breath, take me out of here", Jack said Tom. Tom was crouching against the clay, suddenly fell back against the man behind him. "Oh God", he cried. I was so happy of this, but my happiness did not last even for a minute, and I saw that Tom struggled to his knees, and then fell forward on his hand dragged himself close to the hole on the clay. Jack! he gasped. Jack! "Right Tom, what is the matter Tom?" Jack asked. Tom's answer was so heartbreaking, he said: I have hurt my heart Jack, put your hand out - quick! The sun is going down. Jack came out with one hand in his brother's hand, Tom gripped Jack's hand and then fell with his face in the damp clay. Diggers carried and dragged him from the passage, for the roof was low, they had to stoop. The diggers toke him to the shaft and sent him up fastened with a rope. You can not believe how a tragic scene it was; though Jack could come out of his prison and came to the surface, but he knelt on the grass by Tom's body. I and the rest of the diggers took off our hats to respect the action of Tom. The sun went down, but the man did not let it go down upon his wrath. Yet, after many years, I sometime think about that day and the happening, and think that how with a high price Tom could save his brother's life. I can not stop taking off my hat when I remember him. (A digger)