"What nonsense! Stop joking Carson!" Marcello said handing the folded note back to Carson.

                 The sheriff's expression stayed unchanged.

"What on actual Earth? Please tell me they didn't !"

                  The sheriff looked down, a frown on his serious face. No hint of mischief was evident in his solemn face.

"You know what, I will talk to them. They will change their mind."

Carson stopped Marcello, his face filled with uncertainty, "We are ordered to set sail before midnight. They won't change their mind; its final."

Marcello's eyes bulged out with horror and shock, "Set sail? Where to?"

Carson leaned forward and whispered in a very hushed tone, "The island of Groix."

"But its uninhabited. Not a soul lives there!"

                       Behind, the crowd exploded to cheers and cries of joy. Everyone seemed satisfied and content, to them, it seemed like justice had been served.

Rage burned at the center of his emotionless heart and his blood boiling, he spat, "This town was nothing 11 years back, nothing before i came here. Nothing!! I brought fame to this town, to you people; I made you known, and this is the way you choose to repay me? I get it, that is what people are. Ungrateful,destructive, annoying little creatures..little pests."

                    The people didn't budge. They stayed put, the grins not rubbed off from their smug faces. They were happy and somehow that hurt. He wasn't sad, he was angry. 

Venom dripping from each of his words, "I curse you, that these grains may be golden now but as soon as I set my foot on that island, these will wither. The great year's harvest will rot and all of this towns people will suffer, they will starve. All of you will pay very dearly." his voice broke.

Then Marcello turned to the sheriff and tried again, though Carson's determined face told him that his attempt will be futile, "Lets make a beneficial deal. My painting has been ruined but i still will pay for the child's treatment until he fully recovers. Eh,officer?"

Carson corrected him like his life depended on it, "Sheriff, you mean."

Marcello sighed, "YES SHERIFF! Its practically the same thing. So, what do you say sheriff?"

Carson cracked a tiny smile and replied, with eyes full of sorrow, "There decision is final and it will stay unchanged. Please, Marcello, let me carry out my duty. The time is running out."

                     He was right; The sun was slowly setting, leaving the sky a dark red with a purple-ish tinge. The stars were slowly getting vivid, shining like small glitters. The white clouds  had parted and now floated in thin wisps. The sun was at the horizon, the last of its segments slowly fading beneath, the last light of day dispelling with each passing second. The autumn air had turned chilly but yet it had a comfortable and homely touch to it.

                      Marcello held back his tears; this was it, he was finally going away. But what of his duties? The reason why he had to seek out fame, the reason he came here? Was he going to be a failure and crash all the dreams everyone dreamt for him? Was this really the end?

He turned his head towards the sheriff and nodded, "Then so be it. But Carson, my friend, I have a favour to ask of you?"

Carson said, "If its in my hands Marcello, I will  surely help you."

Marcello let out a sigh, "Please permit me to take my canvas and art materials."

                     The instant these words left his mouth, the crowd erupted to angry  shouts and screams. They were losing their heads over this matter.

Glaring, Carson shouted, "Shuddup ya"all or I will make sure you all end up behind the bars."

                      It seemed that the people were not keen on getting in trouble thus shortly after, the shuffling of feet let Marcello know that the crowd was finally dispersing and going to their own homes. Maybe they finally realized that it was supper time. 

Carson took him by the shoulders, "I can allow you to take some clothes, tissue papers and food.....and your canvas but i cannot permit you to take the art materials. I have been strictly ordered not to."

Marcello was clearly annoyed as he shouted, "What on Earth would I do without my art materials and only my canvas? This is utter nonsense."

"I cannot help you anymore. That is the most i can do. Please start packing your bags." Carson requested.

                        Marcello did as he was told, he put in his shorts, apron and a few loose T-shirts. Then he grabbed two tissue boxes  and stuffed them in as well. He took some dry food: Jam, bread and cookies. Carson gave him a plastic bag which contained some fruits, bread, tomatoes, boiled ham and chicken and a pack of sausage. Marcello put the food in a different bag and locked it. Then he hastily put a pair of shoe and locked the bag but it was soon unlocked  by Carson, who took out the shoes and searched inside them, only to find three color tubes and a brush messily stuffed in.

"Come on, Carson, no one will know !" 

"Please, don't make this hard for me, Marcello." 

                         Marcello took out a hundred dollar note from his wallet and tried to push it into Carson's clutched fist. Carson's eyes grew wide with shock and something like anger flashed at the deep pits of his iris.

"Excuse me, are you offering me a bribe !" He took the note and handed it back. Then gritting his teeth he continued, "Do you take me for a dishonest young man? Dishonesty did not get me where I am today. I thought that, you were better than this skunk you act like !"

                         Carson snatched his wallet and told him to keep it in the safe that stood at the corner of the room; he also told Marcello to keep his money there. Marcello did as he was told and locked the safe, instead of wanting to take the keys, Carson allowed him to keep it.

"Hurry up ! take the canvas before I change my mind," Carson barked harshly. With that, he stomped outside, leaving Marcello struggling with the canvas.

                         After a while, Marcello was escorted to the stoned pathway down, which he always walked when he wanted a peaceful time. As they slowly walked, Marcello could not help, but realize how beautiful the town Lorient was. The cobble stone path, the wheat and barley now barely visible in the dark, all the small houses gathered together and a well in between. His blue cottage stood alone instead of being close to its neighbors; the windmill stood high, it's red blades still moving. Night had dawned upon them, with glistening stars and a full moon, the clouds dispersed a far. The North star shone the brightest, with an eccentric unique glow. The orchard, full of trees that he had drawn so many times that he had lost count; and right in the middle of the orchard stood a swing, decorated with violets, roses, lavenders and what not ! And then, as the cobble stone path ended, his feet landed on the cold sand.

                         The air was much chillier now, may be because it was an autumn night, or may be because the sea was so near. As they continued walking, all of them deep in their own thoughts they reached their destination. 

                        The vast sea stood in front of them, its waves crashing at the bay. It left foam on the  wet sand and a starfish as well. Marcello was escorted to the harbour, where a small awaited him. Carson along with three men got in the boat. Marcello stood, his legs rooted firmly. He couldn't run, he would be caught; he couldn't try to kill himself, Carson would make him fail; the only other option was to go.

                         He put his bag on the boat beside the rower, and got in himself. Then he turned towards the land and maybe, just maybe, a glisten of tear was seen in his eyes, shining underneath the moonlight.