A Kid Named Pepi
written by: Jim Wilson-Storey
Pepi pressed the last piece of wet sand into place, smoothed it over, and stepped back to admire his creation. The large sculpture, one of six forming a menagerie of sea creatures, was made entirely from the sand on one of Havana’s many beaches. It was impressive by any standard. Crafting the sand creatures had been demanding, but Pepi had worked diligently over several days. He was motivated by the expected arrival of a cruise ship the following day. Sitting down on a convenient rock, he admired his handiwork through the dimness of the fading light. He was optimistic that the sculpture would earn him enough small change donations to pay for his food throughout the cruise ship season.
The sculptures stood like beacons in the twilight, their shadows dancing with the flickering light from his oil lamp. As he was about to gather his tools, a shadow loomed over him. Startled, Pepi twisted around, ready to defend himself, only to find a gaunt-looking man dressed in a well-worn beige linen suit and a fedora hat.
“Your work is remarkable, kid,” the man said, his voice low and furtive. “It will attract many tourists. Are you interested in a proposition?”
Pepi eyed the stranger warily. “What kind of proposition?”
“I arrange certain activities,” the stranger said. “I require someone with your unique talents to draw eyes away from my associates’ fun and games. Your sculptures could be just the thing, and I could make your participation worth your while.”
The idea of earning some extra cash was tempting to Pepi, too tempting to dismiss out of hand. “How much are we talking about?”
“How about enough to ensure you’ll not have to worry about where your next meal is coming from?”
The thought of being able to afford two meals a day was something he had never thought possible. He also knew that nothing ever comes easy. Pepi considered that getting involved with this shadowy figure could be dangerous and possibly short-lived. But he was sick of being poor, sick of the constant hunger.
After a moment’s hesitation, Pepi answered, “Okay, tell me more.” He listened as the stranger outlined his proposal.
When he finished his spiel, the stranger questioned, “Well, are you in?”
“I guess so,” Pepi replied, somewhat flustered.
The stranger then handed Pepi a small, unmarked envelope. “Call it something up front for the cruise season. Not bad for turning a blind eye,” he smirked. “There’ll be a bonus at the end of the cruise ship season, if things work out. I’ll see you tomorrow, although you won’t see me.”
With that, the man turned and sauntered away, leaving Pepi alone with his thoughts. He opened the envelope and flipped through the twenty-five American dollar bills. He was impressed, he’d never seen so much money, but worried too. Worried he’d gotten himself involved in something that might not end well.
Having spent the night on the beach protecting his sculptures, Pepi put the final touches on his artwork. Even he was impressed with the end result. When the cruise ship offloaded its guests, many soon found their way along the promenade. Pepi’s sculptures seemed to amaze the cruise ship guests. Many wanted to know how he had done this or that, but most were just happy to admire Pepi’s work and throw a dollar or a few pesos into his cardboard donations box.
Pepi, stepping back from the admiring crowd, quickly saw what was going on behind the tourists’ backs. His heart raced. He knew he had been drawn into a criminal enterprise, but watching the pickpockets skillfully working their way around the unsuspecting tourists was leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
“They’ll most likely not miss their wallets until they’re back on the cruise ship.” Pepi thought to himself.
Over the ensuing weeks, Pepi began to loathe the pickpockets’ activities and cursed himself for being a part of it. One particular day, a cruise ship docked, and as expected, tourists came ashore. Predictably, the pickpockets moved in as they stood admiring Pepi’s installations. But then the relaxed mood changed when one of the tourists saw a pickpocket skillfully removing a wallet from the rear pants pocket of a fellow tourist.
Instantly, the tourist pounced on the would-be pickpocket, grabbing him by the arm. The small thief wriggled and quickly broke loose of the tourist’s hold, being experienced in avoiding the interventions of naïve tourists. In a split second, the pickpocket pulled out a knife. The tourist jumped back to relative safety, giving the pickpocket and his two accomplices time to bolt along the beach, disappearing into a bristling beachside market.
Having witnessed the events, Pepi decided this was the last straw. He was determined to put an end to his part in the criminal activities. As the shaken tourist was helped back to the cruise ship, Pepi, angry and with tears in his eyes, picked up his spade and began destroying his creations. When he was finished, all that was left was a large pile of uninspiring sand, never again to be viewed with reverence.
Bundling up his tools and his few other belongings, Pepi quickly made his way to the city’s bus station. He had no idea where he would go, but he felt anywhere would be safer than here. Purchasing a ticket to the farthest destination on the island from Havana, he boarded a bus; his heart heavy with a mix of fear and trepidation. As the bus drove away from the city, he watched the only life he had known fade into the distance, replaced by an unknown future.
The small town the bus took Pepi to didn’t feel right, and after a few days, he found himself on the move again. Quickly, he became a nomad, two or three days here, a week or two there. Traveling from town to town, Pepi was always looking over his shoulder, always fearing being found by the man in the linen suit or the police.
Eventually, Pepi found himself in a small coastal village on the southeast of the island, a place he had never heard of. The residents were easygoing, a stark contrast to Havana. There, he began to rebuild his life, not with sand sculptures, as there were no tourists to make it worthwhile. A local businesswoman rented him a room in exchange for his help with her small black-market enterprise, run out of her kitchen and small rear-walled yard. He didn’t have a regular routine; he did whatever the cigar-smoking widow asked him to do. Some days it was delivering homemade rum to local cafes, or slaughtering chickens. Sometimes he had to serve soup from a large vat, to the locals who came daily with various pots to purchase the cheap, wholesome concoction.
One evening, after a long workday, Pepi perked up when he heard a captivating voice behind him. “Hello, do you have any soup left?”
Turning around, Pepi was instantly smitten with the attractive young girl standing before him. “Yes, we have soup,” Pepi replied, a welcoming smile spreading across his face.
Pepi took the opportunity to introduce himself, and the girl shared her name in return: Anna. Looking into each other’s eyes, it was clear there was an instant connection, warmth spreading between them. Over the next few months, the two youngsters could often be found sitting together on the rocks, watching sunsets, and excitedly discussing anything they could think of. Anna shared her story, how she had been forced to live on the streets until a kind couple took her in and found her a job rolling cigars. Pepi told Anna about his early years in Havana and his encounter with the stranger and his gang of pickpockets.
To the locals in the village, it was obvious the two were becoming fond of each other, inseparable in fact. The young couple began to dream of a life together in the small village that they both thought of as home now. Even Pepi’s cigar-smoking boss, who was not known in the village for her friendly demeanor, smiled when she saw the young couple together. Only when nobody was looking, of course; after all, she did have her hard-nosed business reputation to maintain.
Then, just when the young couple’s romantic aspirations had begun to take shape, Pepi spotted a familiar figure. The stranger in the linen suit and fedora hat stood at the rear gate of the widow’s walled yard. Pepi’s blood ran cold as the stranger’s face twisted into a cold, malicious smile.
“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Pepi. Remind me, didn’t we have an understanding? An understanding you skipped out on, taking my money with you!”
Pepi’s heart pounded in his chest. “I’m done with your thieving! I won’t be a part of it anymore,” he valiantly replied, but his trembling voice betrayed him.
The man’s expression darkened. “You don’t get to decide that! You owe me.”
Pepi’s mind raced as he tried to think of a way out. He couldn’t let this man ruin the life he had only just begun to build with Anna. He needed a plan.
“Okay! Give me a week. I’ll get you your money, all that you gave me, but I need time.”
The man in the linen suit narrowed his eyes. “You have two days! Understand? I want my money with interest, or that young worm I’ve seen you with, she’ll suffer the consequences. And don’t think about making a run for it; I have eyes everywhere.”
With that, the stranger sneered and departed. Pepi turned on his heels and ran. Out of breath, he eventually found Anna rolling cigars outside.
“Anna, we need to leave, now!”
Anna looked up, concern etched on her face. “What’s wrong, Pepi?”
“I can’t explain everything right now, but we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”
Without any further discussion or hesitation, Anna agreed to go with Pepi. With their belongings packed, and with a deep sense of unease and sadness at having to leave the village, the two youngsters took the next bus out of the village.
Sitting beside her on the rumbling bus, Pepi told Anna everything about the man in the linen suit. About his gang of pickpockets and his threats. It was clear to both youngsters; Cuba would never be safe. It was Anna who came up with the idea of escaping the country altogether. Two bus rides and several hours later, they arrived in Varadero. It was common knowledge for them, Varadero was the place to go to escape Cuba and get to Miami.
Stepping down from the bus, both Pepi and Anna wondered how they would make contact with the people who smuggled Cubans to Miami on small boats. They need not have worried. The bus was soon surrounded by young boys, locally known as coyotes, each trying to outdo the others and offering places on a boat to Miami. Even the most desperate of the coyotes were asking for far more money than Pepi and Anna had. Disillusioned, the two youngsters slouched down on the sidewalk.
“What now?” Anna questioned.
As they pondered their next move, an elderly man approached them. He had a kind, unshaven face and a gentle demeanor.
“Excuse me,” he said softly. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversations with the coyotes. You want to go to Miami, yes?”
Pepi nodded, his eyes filled with hope. “Yes, but we don’t have anywhere near enough money.”
The old man smiled. “I may have a solution, my friends. My name is Señor Juan Torres. Perhaps we can help each other. I have a small fishing boat; if you are prepared to help me, I will take you to Miami.”
Anna leaned forward, intrigued. “Help you with what?”
Señor Torres explained, “The fishing season for me lasts until the end of July, but I have no crew. If you help me, I will take you to Miami.”
Pepi and Anna exchanged glances, their spirits quickly lifting.
“We can do that,” Pepi exclaimed.
Over the next two months, Pepi and Anna bedded down each night on Señor Torres’s boat and worked tirelessly alongside their mentor throughout the day. They learned the ropes quickly, and their hard work paid off, earning Señor Torres’ admiration.
At the end of July, true to his word, Señor Torres meticulously prepared his boat for the journey to Miami. Soon, the little boat slipped into the inky darkness of the Cuban night. Pepi and Anna clung to each other, their only thoughts focused on a new, safe life in America.
Once the boat cleared the Cuban coastline, the lights from Varadero began to disappear. The tranquility of the moonless night whispered warm nothings to Pepi and Anna. In that beautiful, peaceful moment, neither of the two youngsters knew what danger was about to descend.
At midnight, the weather began to shift. The wind, which had been a gentle whisper, soon transformed into an angry, menacing intensity, each wave tossing the small boat with increasing ferocity. The sky, once dotted with stars, became obscured by thick black clouds. Lightning flashes appeared in the distance, illuminating the vast, turbulent expanse of the ocean. The sound of thunder rumbled ominously, a stark reminder of the power of nature that was erupting around them.
Señor Torres, his face a mask of determination, navigated the small fishing boat with skill and precision through the relentless waves. Shouting his orders over the howling winds, he was a beacon of strength and reassurance amidst the churning chaos.
After four hours, the first signs of dawn began to break on the distant eastern horizon. The winds began to abate, and the waves slowly subsided. Exhausted, Señor Torres and the young couple looked at each other, a small smile spreading across their faces before they broke out in jubilant laughter, relieved they had survived the storm.
As the sun’s first rays pierced the retreating gray clouds, casting a golden glow shimmering over the now-calm sea, a sudden, sharp crack echoed through the air. The boat lurched violently. Pepi and Anna were thrown down onto the deck. Señor Torres’ face turned ashen as he rushed to the bow of the small boat. Immediately, Señor Torres spotted a gaping hole, just below the waterline.
“Find something to bail with!” he called out.
Pepi and Anna scrambled to their feet, grabbing a bucket and a large pan to bail water from the small engine room. Their hearts pounded as they worked frantically, but it was clear the boat was sinking, and fast. In one last twist, as if the boat had finally given up her resistance, it rolled over, totally capsizing. The two youngsters and Señor Torres were thrown violently into the water.
Señor Torres, bobbing up and down, amidst the waves, screamed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
Tangled up in the tackle and unable to untangle himself, the old fisherman disappeared below the surface along with his lifelong companion, his beloved boat.
Anna, unable to swim, grasped around Pepi’s neck. Pepi willingly accepted the added weight, finding additional resolve to keep the two of them afloat.
“I love you,” Pepi gasped.
“I love you too,” Anna choked back.
As he tired, he felt himself and Anna slowly slipping beneath the surface. Finally accepting the inevitable, Pepi gave her a final loving smile. A smile she returned without hesitation. Clinging to each other, their eyes closed, surrendered to what they believed would be their final moment.
But then, in a single heartbeat, everything changed. Through the blur of water and fear, a distant garbled sound tore through the quiet movement of the ocean. An unexpected sound; a sound that changed the fate they thought was sealed.
- A Kid Named Pepi - June 20, 2026
- Spotlight On Writers – Jim Wilson-Storey - February 14, 2026
- Interview Q&A With Jim Wilson-Storey - January 15, 2026
