He didn't walk all the way, but hailed a taxi cab. To his dismay the
driver didn't understand what he said so he missed out on the friendly
rattle about all and nothing he had been looking forward to. - Damn
foreigner, he thought to himself as he realized it was impossible to
start a conversation. Right after thinking this to himself he was
almost overwhelmed with remorse.
A name at once formed in his mind
and he felt the usual pain in his chest when that happened. - Clara, he
thought, full of remorse, my dearest darling.
Clara, whom he had
loved, had been black. Not just brown, but black and very beautiful. A
pity those two pregnancies came to nothing or he would now have been
the proud grandfather of little black and brown kids as well as a
couple of two grown-up sons.
Like always the memory of Clara made
him relent from his anger and disappointment at this foreign driver so
he smiled an extra friendly smile at his reflection in the rear-view
mirror. By now he exceeded politeness and friendliness and when they
arrived at the cementary he tipped him profusely.
- Well, he thought
to himself, why not, I can afford it. As he turned in through the heavy
gate to the cemetary he saw that he was still standing by his car and
watching him as he limped on to the ground, cane in hand. - Strange, he
thought to himself, why didn't he just drive away? Also he was a bit
angry with himself for having given him the opportunity to see his
thick wallet as he paid him. Something he always was very careful not
should happen.
Being whom and what he was he took precautions. Yes, one had to, the world being what it was.
He
could see the tall, granite headstone from far off and limped toward it
as fast as he could. The flowers sat in a firm grip in the other hand
and even though he had that game leg he shot a good speed.
When he
was circa four metres from the beautifully adorned grave he felt like
someone pushed him in the back. Surprised and annoyed he turned around,
and found himself looking right into the knowing and tired, but also
wise eyes of the driver.
"Aha!" he exclaimed, more triumphant than scared, "I was right, you did have designs on my wallet!"
It
was obvious that the driver didn't understand what he said, and he
didn't act threateningly in any way, just stood there, looking at him,
trashing his big, empty driver's hands in front of him. Right at the
moment he realized that the driver had no intentions of hurting him,
but tried to warn him he felt a heavy blow to his head and he realized
that the driver had tried to tell him about someone at his back,
someone whom he couldn't see because of the tall headstones. When his
body crumbled to the ground he caught a glimpse of a tall, heavyset
figure, stooping with the heavy blow he had dealt him.
As he
tumbled to the ground he had a strange feeling of humour. Somehow, it
didn't hurt when this blow to his head sent him tumbling into blackness
and his mind was engulfed in this black, fluttering material that
caught hold of him. He didn't even scream in fright that surprised he
was.
However, right before he fell he heard the taxi driver scream one piercing scream, then everything went black.
When
he came to he felt something trickle down his face from his damp, sore
scalp. He was sitting against a headstone of a stranger, someone who
had died last year, but the driver was lying in an awkward position a
little removed from him.
- Poor man, the thought as he realized
that the foreign driver was dead. Then he tried to catch sight of the
assaultant, but couldn't see him anywhere.
For a while he slipped in
and out of unconsciousness, he saw people passing by at a distance, but
nobody saw him. When he groped for his cell phone he saw that it was
gone. He felt how this was turning into a dangerous situation, but
couldn't do anything about it except hoping that he would be found in
time.
As he lay there he could see the even taller headstone of the
grave he had come to visit, but there was no way he could get over
there. His body felt like pudding and he had no hold over his limbs.
Something he only felt too sharply as he saw the puddle and smelled the
nasty smell of the discharges that seeped from him.
Without really
realizing it he tried to edge away from that smelly puddle ease his way
toward the headstone those metres away. He didn't come far before he
felt the light weight of a woman's hand on his shoulder and heard the
well-known, tender whisper against his ear. "Dear darling," she said in
her breathy voice, "Poor you, how could he do this to you?"
"Oh, Anna," he sighed, "then they lied to me and you're not dead?"
She didn't answer, only went a little closer toward the headstone, now little less far away.
"Don't leave," he breathed, "don't go once more."
"I never left," she said a little indignantly. "Never for one second."
"But,
but ...." Then he realized that she had gone. "Anna, Anna," he sad in a
thick voice. "No, Anna ..." Desperately he turned over and started to
snake his way toward the headstone, dragging himself along, by sheer
willpower, seeping blood and other liquids all along. He felt how he
grew weaker and weaker, more and more dizzy, but he couldn't stop
himself, he had to go on as best he could. As his sight waned even more
and the natural borders of his body seemed to dissolve he caught sight
of her again. She was standing next to the tall headstone, as young and
beautiful as she had been the first time he laid eye on her and knew
that she was the one for him as he was for her.
Originally Posted On Site: 2009-04-09 08:41:34
Last Login: 05.24.12
Visits as of 12-12-07: 182
Comments:
|
|||
|
|||
