Robert, John and Alexa or About Life

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
The story is an exploration into the minds and lives of tree people. Please comment I need feedback desperately, if I did something stupid I need to know. I won't get hurt I promise

Submitted: March 31, 2009

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Submitted: March 31, 2009

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About death

Robert was on his way to the Eagle’s Crest when a nail pierced the tyre. Now all three were stranded on a rocky mountain road. Tim remembered seeing a gas station on the way there, but that was a two-hour walk through the woods. But they were more than happy with their situation: they were adrenaline addicts. If something adventurous like their current mountain climbing expedition suddenly had a new twist then their mood would improve. They disliked Paris, London, anything urban; their place was on a raft, in a zorb, hanging from a rope or parachuting into a forest where they would survive on hunting alone. Now all three would go on the road, all when well until Robert stepped on a viper. He could feel the poison going into his body and with each second that passed he felt himself slipping more and more into darkness. His friends knew too well they needed antivenin fast. Their mobile phones had no signal forcing them to carry Robert on their backs. Now more than ever, they needed to get to the gas station. Robert was silent, his voice got scared and ran away. He had barely started living as what he was, his identity had just been given to him only to be in danger of losing it again.

Branches were ripped off trees, leaves were crushed as they ran as fast as they could to the gas station. However they were getting more and more tired until their friendship was the only thing that kept them in one piece. This was not the first time that one of them had been hurt and the others had to help nor was it the most terrible, perhaps the most dangerous situation was when Cush tried to jump across a river and fell into it, the current was so strong it knocked him over and braking his leg under the rocks. As if that wouldn’t have been enough a bear had come along and if it wasn’t for his friend’s gunshot the bear would easily have gotten him. Robert and Tim had managed to get him out in time.

It was this memory along with many others that now flashed into Robert’s mind. Memories of a time long forgotten -when he was not himself. They arrived at the gas station, phoned the emergency services, which sent a helicopter. Robert was given antivenin and was taken to hospital. When he recovered he said:

‘’If I had died that day I would have died in peace because I am now what I am “

If you were to look at the fabric of John’s life you would notice something rather unsettling. It was filled with black spots. He had seen death one too many times and had never missed a funeral. Once he was offered a job interview for a position he had wanted all his life, a teaching post at Bancur the most important university of Ciron, but how could he miss the opportunity to see his grandmother for the last time? It would have remained on his mind forever. He placed flowers on her casket as he did with all who entered eternity. He knew if that job was to be his he would get it - one way or another.

After each parting he would hear that clichinside his head “Life is meant for living” and “All can be taken away in an instant “

“Please write your names on a piece of paper and then pass it on to me” said the seminar teacher to her students. All of them did so even Alexa who was supposed to be near her grandmother, the person that had raised her, had taught her right from wrong. That veryperson was now reduced to an ice cube.

Her final day, before she became a part of nature, was to be spent without her granddaughter. Alexa felt sadness inside herself, she was alone, a ‘one in a field of zeros’ but her porcelain face was unchanged, its smile was now so stiff, it would have remained the same even if it was submerged in sulphurous acid . That smile, manufactured ages ago, was her weapon against unwanted questions or sympathy. Nobody was supposed to know the many attacks life had thrown at her. She refused to have anybody around her attaching to her, she wanted to be free, absolutely free. She could not change anything about her life, she saw inside her mind, the domino pieces falling one on top of the other: such an image deeply disturbed her.

“I will not let this simple fact of life destroy my rhythm” she shouted in front of the bathroom mirror,

About happiness

Alexa was happy as she walked from Sisamelly to Picary. Of course this was rarely the case; her life was usually nothing more than a grey construction made from the hardest of materials. Now, however, things were different, such was her mood that even the flowers were blooming in that immovable December day. How she loved life when everything was the way she planned it! This basic condition was often violated,that was why pain invaded her almost every day. Whenever she would have to do an unexpected assignment or when somebody dared to visit her unannounced she would feel a knife penetrating her brownish flesh.

One day she had such a visit: it was Roberta, someone whom you would recognise in a million. Unlike many other women she found her happiness in sports such as volleyball, ping-pong, roller-blading, mountain climbing, fishing or parachuting.

Roberta was in a relaxing zorbing camp as she was recovering from a terrible cold and needed to unwind somewhere but she got more than that. She was inside a zorb, in front of her sat a handsome young man. A malfunction in the harness mechanism forced his face to fall on her chest as if he was inside a leather sandwich. How could John not be happy now when the very thing he liked most was now literally in his face. He liked women or rather he liked what they could offer him in a physical way.

Alexa’smobile phone rang. She would have to go to her mother’s house and not to her own as she planned.

Their lives

The clock rings every morning. Each time it produces that sound I feel a strong urge to go back to sleep. Each morning I feel like a trapped sardine stuffed too tightly into its tin. In that rather claustrophobic moment all my senses are assaulted but none suffers as much as my sense of smell. I find myself wondering why soup is still - for some at least - one of the great mysteries of the universe and I still can’t figure out why it is that water is seen as something destructive.

Every single day of the week I find myself in a room filled with the most terrible of creatures: the 21st century pupil. Their interests are not related in any way to what I teach but in spite of this I manage to somehow capture their attention at some point. However my position is not the most important part of my life; it is just a step, a job that I use to save up money for my project to open a zorbing camp nearby.

When I think of this I remember my first time in a plastic ball where I met Roberta, perhaps the only woman I fell in love with. We had gone on to date for a few months but she was never truly happy. There was a hint of uneasiness about her that she tried to conceal. She told me that even from her childhood she had never truly felt herself. She told me she had to change her sex. Even as a man I would have loved her. However she was the one that chose to end it.

Each morning I wake up and take my oval hope; I shower, get into my car and rush to work. I arrive only to be tormented by the name plate on my door. There in black on white Roberta Higtris is written. That name still stings after thirty years.

Now, after so much time, I am so close that it feels like I have lived in a dream and tomorrow I shall wake up to reality. When I look into the mirror Roberta will be gone forever. Hair will cover my face, my jaw line will be straighter, something will vanish and something will appear. All my curves will become straight, that will be it.

“Hmm another day, another opportunity.” This is my time to shine: after all my efforts today I will have my presentation. Sometimes I feel like I’m in the army, where discipline is so vital; my life is like a game of dominoes such that if one element is hit the rest will fall one on top of the other in a never ending row.”

But none of those pieces included a party, none of them included love. Her life was future-oriented, she saw herself as being someone at some future point in time. But not now. In these moments she was nothing but a very stable chemical reaction that would in the end make her career, her very existence.

Her back was curved from all that sand wasted in the Central Library, where she would enjoy her friends Poe, Dante, Eminescu, Plato, Marino, it was among these bones where she found her peace. She was not such a huge fan of flesh, it was too demanding.

So each day from 4 pm to 8 pm she would be in there. Between the hours of 8pm and 12am she would write her papers at home. She went to every single lecture and seminar available for her specialization.

“Hmm I finished my presentation. I noticed how my colleagues were absorbed in their own conversations but my professor was attentive. Now back to work!”


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