Lines, words, letters. [25]

Nothing meaningful, unless for you it is.


Chapter 10 – Exceptional forces, exceptional paths

Maria had two boys. And when they wanted out, Stavros wasn‘t at home. He was on an important meeting in another country. The predicted birth date was still some weeks ahead and yet they boys just wanted out. The personal bodyguard and friend drove her to the hospital, a kind an honest man, he was just born into the wrong family.

Before Maria asked him to do a secret job and to keep it a secret. She wanted him to get one of her boys into another life, another family away from all of this. He promised and when the time had come to let birth, he managed everything. They went to a special hospital and both sons survived as well as Maria. When Stavros was called, they told him only one son survived and told him about the early birth. Somehow it all worked and the bodyguard never told anyone about nor did Maria or the doctors in the hospital. They sure got paid for it, but Mirko, the bodyguard paid for it because otherwise Stavros would have noticed the missing money.

One year after the birth the bodyguard died in a shooting, so the only one who was left to tell the story was Maria.

Stavros never seemed to question anything and he just felt bad about not being there this day. He sure tried to get home as soon as possible, but until he arrived it was already the next day.

Even though Maria wanted to give away one of her sons, she still named them both. One was Marques and the other one was Panagiotis, the nobleman and the All-holy.

— Antony‘s story —

After I got put into adoption list, I got adopted by my new parents, they couldn‘t get children. My new father was a manager and business man and my mother an artist, she drew pictures and also got some extra money for some of her works.

They both didn‘t believe in God, higher forces or anything. Just really logical, rational people, working with their heads, sometimes maybe a little bit too much. Still they were loving parents, when they weren‘t busy working.

I had an interest into nature and also pretty much everything my parents weren‘t interested in, but they were okay with it at first and even supported me. But times change and things don‘t always go the way we want them to be, right? At least this is what we tell ourselves, to explain the mess we created, to put the responsibility away, as my father once told me. Maybe he was right about it, that everything we get out is what we put in. But I am still not sure whether we really were on the same wave length.

My mother was a little bit more open to my ideas and ways, I guess an artist is always a little bit more open. Still she also didn‘t believe in super natural things and such, she just was fascinated by my stories and thoughts. One time she asked me whether I would want to become a fiction writer, but then I just ran away because she didn‘t believe me. She really thought it would motivate me, but she couldn‘t know that I was serious about the things. From her perspective it just wasn‘t possible, just irrational and simply not logical. After some time I stopped trying, I just gave up and just started to focus on the „real“ life, whatever this was. According to my parents „it is what you make it“, just think logical. I tried to just see the world from their perspective and while I understood how they seemed to see the world, I couldn‘t accept this point of view for myself.
I always thought, there has to be something else. For me, this wasn‘t necessarily something specific, but still something we didn‘t really discover yet, or don‘t understand yet.

This is when I started to read science fiction books and watched series like Stargate and Star Trek, also movies about mysteries and unsolved riddles. My parents just shook their heads each time I started to say something about these things or when they saw me watching or reading these things. At first they just laughed about it, but after some time the laughter turned into emotionless and then even almost angry reactions.
They wanted me to focus on the real things, to get a good job and a great life and fictional stories were not a part of it. Sometimes for fun or to relax for sure, but not like an obsession, at least this is what they told me many times.

I even started to hide these things because I didn‘t want them to tell me their opinion again.

After some time I found out that the anger wasn‘t really because of me, but because my father had problems with his job and also with the payments. And then when I turned 18, my parents divorced, I never really got to know why, but they both just couldn‘t get along with each other. I stayed in contact with both of them for a while, they both still loved me and I loved them. Life is not easy I guess. After the divorce I first stayed with my mother for a while until I got a job as a bar keeper and some new friends. Then I moved out and lived with my new friends in a shared apartment for a while, tried to find myself.

One of them, Monica, we got close and she liked my stories and was interested in the books I were reading. She asked me to narrate them for her, she said I had a great voice for that, a calming voice. So I started to read some books to her. Monica fell asleep after some time each time, but it was okay.

Later I knew, that she had problems to sleep, but that my books and voice let her fall asleep. Sadly I didn‘t know that she also had to fight with depression and anxiety. When I saw Monica, she always smiled towards me and I think with me she felt save and calm. But when I started to study, I sometimes had no time to read and one time, when I was on a two week excursion trip in another country, she didn‘t respond to my messages at one point. At first I didn‘t think much of it, but after one day, I called her, but she also didn‘t take up the phone.
Then some hours later I got called by Pedro, one of my friends from the apartment and he told me with a low and tired voice, that Monica had killed herself in the bathtub.


A world crashed for me, everything broke apart.

I lost her and it was my fault.

Pages 76 – 79 of Lines, words, letters.


Comment:

Spread love, be good. 🙂

It is not all that good to be alone. Don’t forget you are not alone and that you can help someone else, while others can help you.

We are not alone and it is good!

And thank you for reading.

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