A writer backpacking in Asia looks for a quiet place to write about a criminal on the run. He finds the ideal place in a small town and learns that fiction and reality blur together more often than you might expect.
Genre: FICTION / GeneralThis story was just released (March 7, 2014) and currently is #683,857 paid in Kindle Store.
The little wooden house wasn’t much, but he didn’t need much. It had a bathroom and a big bedroom that doubled as a living room. A nice porch afforded a glimpse of the sea but the house didn’t offer much else. No aircon, no mod cons, as the adverts for apartments in the city read. It fit in nicely with the rest of the little fishing village surrounding it. He had read that it once aspired to becoming a tourist destination — and failed. Now it was a little shabby, poorly maintained and pleasant. In short, he found it perfect for his needs.
He was sure that the rent the chubby woman quoted him was high for the off season; still, it was less than he had expected her to ask. He bargained a bit, mostly for the sake of form; she grudgingly came down a bit and the matter was settled.
“No contract,” she told him, the smile she couldn’t entirely suppress suggesting he was still overpaying. “Pay in cash. I don’t want trouble with tax people.”
He smiled, knowing that meant that she didn’t pay taxes. He shrugged it off. Her dealings with her government had nothing to do with him. He stepped out on the porch and inhaled the air, smelling the salt from the sea and the pungent odors of fish that drifted up from the market.
I can work here, he thought.
| Language | Status |
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French
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Already translated.
Translated by F. Georges
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Author review: A pleasure to work with! |
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German
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Already translated.
Translated by Karsten Brabaender
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Neli Raquel Borba
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