The fine art of murder

I started having grotesque and depressive visions of the future. Happiness was a butterfly that seemed to have flown away. I gazed into his eyes, sadly realising he had found me but I would be losing him forever: I was convinced that he was going to be killed. I would become a dark thing then and fade away soon, dragged down into a gloomy existence.

I frightened myself thinking that next time Jimmy Moon would visit the house I would poke through the kitchen drawers looking for a steak knife and stab him to death with malice aforethought. I was taken aback by my wild imagination. To see my killer instincts emerge so easily made me doubt about my sanity. Some might disagree, but I have always been a decent -and essentially peaceful- woman, and murder considered as one of the fine arts had never been at the top of my priority list until that day.

I couldn’t help wondering what’s inside the mind of a killer to make him/her lose the train of thought and end up believing that human life is not sacred. Mental illness? Brain damage? Or maybe just a black, evil soul?

Psychiatrists say that the instinct to kill lies dormant in our mind but can be triggered by events. Each and everyone of us have the capacity to commit murder in a fit of diseased madness. We would all be astonished to find out what a harmless individual is capable of doing in situations of extreme horror, panic or anxiety.

I asked myself how easy it would be to take someone’s life away. Not just in a manner of speaking, but in actual truth. I wondered what it would be like to have that strong feeling of hate towards someone to the extent of feeling compelled to commit murder, like I was feeling about Jimmy Moon, that obnoxious blackmailer who used questionable debt collection methods.

- It’s just not fair –I said with tears in my eyes, breaking the silence in the room-.
- Life wasn’t meant to be fair, sweetheart. But I can’t let this happen to you. That’s what’s really unfair. This is why I’ll offer Jimmy to keep me and set you free.
- What? Do you really think he will accept that? He will kill you on the spot! Pay him! –I cried, alarmed-.
- No. I won’t pay him. And he won’t kill me.

He kissed me tenderly, and whispered:

- But if he does, love… I thank fate for allowing us to meet. The time we’ve spent together has been worth every minute.

Tears rolled down my face. That sounded like he was going to go forever. For all sad words of tongue or pen, those were the saddest I had ever heard.

- He will kill you, Ed! Why don’t you want to pay him?
- Because I’ve already paid an inconceivable amount of money for having made an unintentional mistake. After being lied about, intimidated, defamed, stalked, harassed and extorted for money over the years, I decided I’ve had it.
- I didn’t know he did all that to you.
- He actually did more than that; he caused the wreck of the ship where my second wife and eight-month old son died long ago. Now he has kidnapped you. He kills, destroys and burns everything I love. I’ve paid more than enough for that bloody license.

I could see the pain in his eyes and looked down.

- Tell me you’re not offering him to take my place.
- Ok Leni, I guess you should know what my real purpose is: I came here to rescue you and kill him. People like Jimmy Moon deserve death.

I was asking myself a zillion questions. Among them: Is it fair to claim for the principle of ‘an eye for an eye’ in a society that’s supposed to be considered as an enlightened civilisation? Is it right to respond to crime by committing more of the same?

My parents always taught me not to fight back when offended, and I learned that a law based on revenge serves no purpose. But ‘Many who live deserve death, and some who die deserve life’, said Gandalf to Frodo as he wished death upon Gollum in Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring, and I totally agree with that quote. And yet… who are we to play God and decide about other people’s life and death?

But I was bound and determined: I would kill Jimmy Moon with my own hands. Even if I had no plan, if would find the way. Things just couldn’t go on like that. So I kissed Ed, got up and walked to the kitchen, where I opened the cutlery drawer and looked for the sharpest knife.

- What are you doing, Leni? Come here, lay beside me, sweetheart. –said Ed from the bed-.

I wrapped the knife in my long skirt’s pocket and went back to him. He was amazingly relaxed and confident. Intuition told me the worst was yet to come.

- What the hell is this? –he asked, touching the knife in my pocket-
- Just in case. –I answered with a low voice-.
- Just in case what? –he asked, very serious-
- Just in case Jimmy Moon would come here to kill you.
- Leni, that’s sweet and I appreciate, but he can kill you six different ways before you hit the floor. So be a nice gal and give me that knife. You can hurt yourself.
- No way! – I said, grabbing the knife with my hands-

As we were discussing that matter, the door opened suddenly and we saw Jimmy Moon’s cadaverous face appear.

- Uh oh, what do we have here… a pair of lovebirds… -he chuckled, removing his black gloves-

Ed stood up and whispered:

- Leni, we’re in a difficult situation right now. Hide. I’ll be looking for you.
- No. I want to be with you.
- Leni, please. Look for a place to hide. I will have to fight very soon. You heard me, Leni. Hide or go away.
- I’m not leaving you alone here.
- Go before he kills the two of us.
- Never.
- Why are you so stubborn? Ok, then stay real close behind me and don’t move.

I latched on to him and shivered with fear. It was a stupid decision, I know, but I wanted so much to protect him that I didn’t realize how stupid I was being. Ed had been caught unawares and was too worried about taking care of me. Jimmy slowly slid his dagger out. The scrubbing sound of the blade against the metal rim of the sheath ran chills down my spine. He stared at Ed and threatened him with an evil smile.

I looked at Jimmy with my eyes full of rage.

- Aww… what a cute little fighter! She’s spirited! Do you think you can save your man from the mean bad guy? I don’t think so! –he shouted, staring at me, his fingers gently tickling my cheek-

He laughed, and I became furious.

- Hey, keep your hands off her! –shouted Ed, as he pushed him-
- You still owe me something, bastard.-said Jimmy-
- I’ll wipe that smile off your face!!!

Soon they were engaged in a fierce fight. A deathly silence was followed by the sound of their daggers clashing. I remained unnoticed and started moving back to the other side of the room, grabbing firmly the kitchen knife in my pocket. I moved slowly and quietly until I was behind Jimmy.

Suddenly I felt that terrible rage and the unstoppable urge to finish him. I took my knife and slit his throat brutally as soon as he lowered his guard. Jimmy’s thick black blood splashed my face and neck like a jet. He became pale, staggered towards the door whispering ‘Bitch’. Then, he collapsed on the floor shook with violent convulsions and finally died on a puddle of blood.

I washed my face and hands. I couldn't stand my clothes, all blood-stained. I had to remove them.

I let the knife fall off my hand. I had killed a man. I was a murderer. I felt sick.

"Tranquilize" The Killers + Lou Reed

Supernatural business (II)

My future didn’t look very promising: I would be in solitary confinement in a beautiful house, in a deserted gloomy place that looked like a frozen field in the middle of nowhere, until Ed decided to pay the amount of money he owed to Jimmy Moon for his physician licence. The funny thing was that the offence took place around 1790. This is what happens when you spend your time with supernatural beings: it’s crazy festival all the time.

Jimmy kept talking with his threatening voice.

- Ed will try everything to rescue you. If he does and I catch him here without the money… he’s finished. –he said, making a cut-throat gesture-. I will visit you from time to time, just to check that you’re still here. My servants will bring you everything you might need. Is there anything else I can do for you?
- Yes. You can set me free.
- Nice try, but no. I won’t.
- Could I have just one more thing, then?
- Speak. –he nodded-
- I presume I can’t have a laptop and internet connection, supposing you know what that is, so I’d just like to have a notebook and a pencil, if it’s possible. I’ll die if I can’t write.
- Of course I fucking know what a laptop and internet connection is, Leni! I may be decrepit, but I’m not stupid. But it’s impossible to have that here: This is the eighteenth century. Welcome to the Age of Reason.

The Age of Reason? My arse! Looked like it was The Age of Madness and Insanity instead.

Jimmy took a small notebook and a pencil from a cabinet and pushed them towards me on the table. Then, he drew an imaginary circle in the air with his fingers and finally vanished in the air. I really worried about Ed.

I looked at myself and saw in total amazement how my black robe and torn miniskirt were getting blurred, slowly disappearing and being replaced by peasant woman’s clothes.

A nightgown-like chemise made of white linen, a black corset and a full skirt with multiple petticoats underneath suddenly materialised on me. Under my skirts, I had knee-high stockings held with garters. My hair was tied up into a bun that I undid immediately. I looked like a country girl... of the eighteenth century! And I was even wearing wood clogs! I collapsed on the floor in fright.


I took a deep breathe, held it, then released. I had to do that four consecutive times before I could calm down and think properly. When I recovered, I poked around the kitchen cupboards, where I found a coffee maker and some sweet tidbits. I decided to indulge myself and forget my ordeal preparing a delicious cream coffee with foam and chocolate flakes. I sat on the rocking chair by the fireplace, wrapped myself in the patchwork blanket, sipped from my hot coffee cup and started thinking. I had traveled in space and time, or so it seemed. What a mad world.

I found a book on a shelf: “A woman’s life in the sixteenth century Elizabethan Burdishland”, by Meredith McVitie. It consisted basically of unceasing labor, revolving around husband and family; but they started managing the household, running farms and home businesses.

And some funny anecdotes: women rode astride in these days, not side saddle. And what was even more shocking to the rest of the countries: they greeted visitors with a full kiss on the lips. The ambassadors were shocked. Foreign visitors wrote home to their friends, saying ‘Come’. This was quite different to what I always imagined them to be like. This was probably lost history, and as per the author's opinion could be considered as women’s liberation at an early stage.

During the 18th century, the Age of Reason changed some rules. Intelligence and reason were admired. Education was extended to the women of the upper and middle classes; however, science and philosophy were meant only for men. Women were offered training in skills like music, drawing, singing or painting; very useful disciplines for modern life. But a seed –that would result in the revolutionary feministic movements- was being planted. That was probably Ed and Jimmy’s time background.

I was distracted with this reading when suddenly I spotted an empty glass bottle at the kitchen and had a hell of an idea.

I took the pencil and a piece of paper from the notebook that Jimmy had given to me, and wrote:

"Ed,

I’m dead scared. I don’t even know where I am. Jimmy Moon said if he finds you here and you don’t pay what you owe to him, he will do something horrible to you. So please don't look for me.

Leni."

I rolled up the piece of paper as tightly as possible; put the cork into the bottle; rushed to the door and left the house. It was terribly cold outside. A persistent thin chilling rain was falling and the mist laid low about the house and over the fields.

I walked towards the river, kneeled on the riverbank and made sure the bottle floated. Then, I dropped it in the water, expecting it would reach Ed someday and quickly walked back to the house to do the hardest part: the waiting.

I blew out the candles and laid in bed. I covered myself with the blanket and suddenly felt a presence near me. I didn’t dare move to see who it was. I could just see what seemed to be the silhouette of a man wrapped in a black cape. I covered my face with the blanket, as if that could save me the panic. I felt some weight on the mattress. He lifted the blanket on the other side of the bed and approached me radiating intense warmth.

I was drawn to him and couldn’t resist getting closer, yet we didn’t touch each other. The bed was so warm I couldn’t believe it. The closer we got, I realised we would touch some part of our bodies at any moment. Suddenly my right feet gently bumped into his leg. You guessed it. It was not an accident: I did it on purpose.

- Sorry –I whispered-.

But no, I wasn’t sorry at all. I just wanted to hear his voice but he didn’t say anything. I couldn’t see his face and didn’t dare to get up and light a candle. So I had to use the rest of my senses. I felt a familiar fresh scent of grass, wind, sea waves and it brought to my mind a memory of sandstorms.

I plucked up my courage and reached out my hand to touch his face. His lips felt familiar to me, so sensual and soft. As I touched them, he kissed my fingertips. I withdrew my hand, shy and scared, but delighted at the same time.

I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was smiling in the dark. Deprived of sight and sound, I explored his body with my hands: he had big forehead; long nose; pronounced chin; long soft hair. I stroke his chest and ran my fingers down his belly, down his thighs, deliberately avoiding the most sensitive parts of his body. Then he took my right hand and placed it where he wanted me to touch him. I was nicely surprised. He was terribly hard, and that excited me big time.

I pulled my hand away and rolled onto my side. He got closer and spooned with me. He actually held me so tight from behind that there was not an inch of my skin which would not be in contact with his skin. I felt his breath on my neck and shoulders tickling me very softly. His lips brushed my left shoulder sweetly. He pushed my hair to the right side and licked my left earlobe.

I started moaning quietly. I didn’t dare to make any noise. He licked my hairline too and that was good enough tot make me moan loudly again. He cupped my right breast and I sighed deeply with pleasure as his left hand rested innocently on my pussy, not doing anything. Not yet.

I was so wet. I felt his stone hard dick rub the gap between my buttcheeks. He pressed himself against my back and left a wet trace on my lower back.

I moaned again and turned my face to see him, but I couldn't. It was pitch-dark.

- Who are you? -I asked-

Then he whispered into my ear:

- You’re disappointing me, Leni. Can’t you recognise my dick in the dark?

I turned back immediately and faced him.

- Ed! You got my message in the bottle? Jimmy won’t set me free unless you pay him. And he will kill you too. Have you got the money?
- I got your message, but I don’t have the money. I came here just to speak to Jimmy. I’ll ask him to set you free and I will take your place as a hostage.

Emiliana Torrini “Sunny Road”

Supernatural business (I)

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the Swiss philosopher of the Enlightenment whose political theories deeply influenced the French Revolution, asserted in his work “The social contract”: “Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains".

According to the definition of freedom, men are free when they have the opportunity to design their own destiny. But just as Monsieur Rousseau brilliantly pointed out, you shouldn’t be as naïve as to believe blindly in the implications of this statement: The invisible chains of modern slavery come in many different shapes: civil society, laws, taxes, responsibilities and a long etcetera. Suffice it to say that the worst of them are beyond our control - supernatural beings and their bizarre plans, among others-.

I sincerely recommend you lead a discreet existance and remain as unnoticed as possible. Otherwise, supernatural creatures will easily get infatuated by your nicest personal features, start considering you’re an irresistible plaything, frolic with you and create all kinds of havoc, becoming a real pain in the neck.

They’re lunatic, selfish, eccentric and very unreasonable. Their strange cranks and erratic habits often make them throw fits at young humans just because they’re so noobs and so alive -as if they had wasted their own lives over the years and missed their lost liveliness-. Their hundred-year-old mind doesn’t work exactly like a human mind. They think and act strangely. Such accumulated experience allows them a certain inability to seek for a better future; so they just have lust for the present and a heavy burden to bear: that gloomy past they just can’t get rid of.

I can neither remember when supernaturals first entered my life nor when exactly I started attracting them like a magnet.

To be a toy in the hands of fate and its minions didn’t match at all my idea of freedom. So when Jimmy Moon opened the door to his car and said I was free to go, I simply didn’t believe him. I knew he would be back to ensnare me again. He allowed me a few seconds of privacy to give Ed his scary message. But as soon as I had done this, the phone call was interrupted and Jimmy’s blurred silhouette appeared on the horizon.

- Wrap you up in this robe –he said, throwing to me a tattered piece of cloth-
- Am I supposed to wear these black rags? –I asked, hastily-
- Yes, you are. You’ve got class and style, but the truth is you look like a cheap hooker now.

I let out an audible gasp of anger. What a blatant fit of honesty. Actually, I looked horrible. My hair was a mess. I was barefoot. The hem of my miniskirt was so torn that it could have been a belt. My mascara had run in black tears down my face and my lipstick smudged. So no sooner said than done: I decided to put that black robe on. I neither wanted to look like a sloppy slut nor to argue with my dark visitor.

Jimmy Moon and I walked quietly through the frozen fields for an hour, until we saw a small fairytale-looking house that seemed to be taken from Hansel and Gretel’s story. He dug a small key out of his pocket, unlocked the door and told me to follow him inside.

The walls were painted light yellow. There was a warm fireplace with a blazing fire; a red rocking chair and a wooden table right in the middle of the room with a basket full of shiny red apples on it. There was also a beautiful kitchenette and a small bed covered with a colourful patchwork blanket. It was warm and cosy. It was a nice room with lots of light. I bent over to smell a beautiful bunch of red and yellow Japanese daisies placed in a pot on the mantlepiece.

- I thought you’d like the flowers –he said, looking down-.
- Oh thanks. If not for the fact that I’m being held against my will… that would have been so nice and thoughtful.
- You’ll be okay here, Leni.
- I’ll be a bird in a gilded cage, Jimmy.
- Whatever. You will be confined here as a hostage until Ed keeps his word.
- Wait a second. May I ask what your deal was? I think I’m entitled to know. It looks like I’m the bargaining chip in this story.

He sighed and nodded.

- Yes, you may ask. Two hundred years ago, Ed Davies was a well-known physician and scientist in Burdishland. People from all over the world visited him to cure their illnesses… and he healed them. He still has this heavenly gift. Over the years he became wealthy and powerful and he thought about opening his own sanatorium. He had the money, the premises, the employees and the expertise. He had everything necessary to start his business… but the Royal Permit. Still nowadays it’s necessary to pay this licence fee to carry out professional activities in Burdishland. Those who don’t… are likely to pay a high penalty to the Burdish Crown if they get caught, and may even go to jail. So Ed opened his sanatorium… but he forgot to ask for the bloody Royal Permit. Five years later nobody had noticed that unforgivable oversight yet, but I found out by accident.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. So Ed the editor was not exactly Ed the editor, but Dr. Ed? How come I had never heard of this??? After a short pause, Jimmy Moon continued talking.

- I was the Attorney General in those days and it was my duty to fight against illegality.
- Come on. Illegality? That was not the case! Everybody knows that the Kingdom of Burdishland has always had ridiculously absurd bureaucracy mechanisms. Even more in ‘those’ days. He didn’t act out of malice!
- I know he did it by accident! But even though, Leni: Ignorance of the law is no excuse. As a lawyer, you should know that old aphorism. It’s a general principle of law.

I nodded.

- I do know that principle!
- So… every man for himself. He could have been arrested and imprisoned if he got caught. Nevertheless, I called him to my office. I warned him about his tricky situation and offered an arrangement suitable to his interests: I would produce a fake permit dated five years back, legalize it with the Royal seal -of which I was the legal depositary- and file it in the Royal bundle so that nobody would notice it had been missing during all that time. In return, Ed would pay me the amount equivalent to the first five years of the sanatorium’s income in five comfortable instalments. –he said-
- We call it ‘a bribe’ here in Sandwich, Jimmy. And I bet in Burdishland they do as well –I spat at him-
- I prefer to call it ‘a gentlemen’s agreement’, Leni. The essence of such deal is that it relies upon the honor of the parties for its fulfilment.
- And you said your duty was… to fight against illegality?
- Oh, we had related interests –he smirked-. I had something he needed: the permit. And he had something I needed: huge amounts of money. So I scratched his back and he scratched mine.

I realised how silly it was to discuss contemporary legal or ethical theories with someone who had been the Burdish Attorney General sometime in the 18th century, so decided to return to the conversation topic: the deal.

- So it seems that Ed didn’t scratch much your back, did he? –I asked-
- That’s right. I gave him a long deadline. At the beginning, he observed the terms of our agreement and the payment schedule, but he failed to pay the last two instalments by due date. He thought he could escape and relocate to Sandwich: the perfect hideaway where it would be very unlikely to be found. He did do well and became the owner of all the hospitals in the South Georgia and South Sandwich Islands through some related companies. Kynkybooks is a very profitable business, but only a small source of income for Ed compared to his real activity. Did you know that, Leni?
- No. I didn’t.
- I’m not surprised. Just a few selected plutocrats know.

If Karl Marx had just heard Jimmy’s sarcastic tone of voice when he pronounced the word ‘plutocrats’, he would have joined him, his left fist up, screaming with rage the final line of his Communist Manifesto: ‘WORKERS OF ALL LANDS, UNITE!’

But there was more.

- Don’t take it personal. I’m not a bad guy, but he has to face his difficulties in order to transcend them. He must pay me. –he said clearly-. ‘Cause if he doesn’t… everything will slowly fade away, including you –he said, giving me an evil grin and pointing at me-. The daisies will wither; the apples will go bad; the fireplace will be put out… and little by little, you will start getting dark.

"To be free" (Emiliana Torrini) and the beautiful art of Natalie Shau

Sitting on ice flowers

Who the hell was that guy and what on earth did he want from me?

My guess was that he could very well be some fucking freak who had seen me in the Sandwichian papers next to Ed; then he probably decided to buy himself a black hat and Darkman outfit at the Halloween sales just to blackmail Ed and scare me out, with the evil purpose of making some easy money.

I actually had no enemies; at least, not as far as I knew.

Could the dark guy be a revengeful Bob Gausman in disguise? Nah. Firstly, I would have recognized his voice. And secondly, in spite of the fact that he hated me for having dumped him just a few weeks ago, in the back of his mind he was a decent guy and he would never do that to me.

As a business magnate and a powerful man, Ed surely had a few enemies of his own who could have considered kidnapping me to extort him. And I was such an easy victim: I led a normal life, totally unaware of any potential danger and therefore, unprotected.

So there I was, forced and locked into a car by an unknown weirdo all cloaked in black, with no real features to be seen. On top of it, the car was moving.

After the initial puzzling moment, I started feeling agitated and anxious. I sensed a situation of extreme danger. Call it fear, alarm or panic. Call it what you want to: I was actually scared.

But there was something more: that negative and unpleasant sensation was evoking an image of my childhood. When I was little, some nights I used to feel a terrifying hostile dark presence in my room. I would wake up from my nightmares all covered with sweat and sit up in bed crying, until my mother would hear me and rush to put me in her lap and give me a big hug. Then, and only then, the dark thing would vanish.

But the shadow continued to lurk around for years. The frightening image worked as a courage-building tool and helped me face my fears. I tried to see that dark being as a character from a scary puppet show; as a laughable shadow in one of the survival horror computer games I used to play; as a clumsy bladed-gloved serial killer’s apprentice that I could have easily thrashed; but wherever his hideaway would be -Halloweentown, Alone in the Dark or Elm Street- I could never run away from him, so I grew up with the feeling that something sinister would happen to me some day.

- Where are we going? –I asked-
- What makes you think I’m gonna tell you? –he said with a voice that seemed to come from beyond the grave, his face approaching mine until he could perfectly smell the stinking scent of fear dripping out of my pores-.

We stood still for a few seconds, face to face. His rainbow eyes glowed.

-You look like you tried to gatecrash at a Halloween party and you got caught. –I said-.
- Thanks for the compliment, but no. I'm not a party guy.
- Remove your mask and let me see who you are! –I said, pulling his black cloak-
- Hey, pack it in! There’s no such mask! –he spat at me, pushing me aside-.

Suddenly, he looked into the distance, hit the floor twice with his cane and the car softly took off, just like an aircraft. We quietly flew under the twelve bridges of Gritvyken; hovered in the sky; glided over the sea in the still of the early morning.

That gentle flight took us to the outskirts of the city, near the oil wells. Still in fear, I tried to enjoy the sight looking out the car window with my eyes wide open. Nobody seemed to be watching us. That two-bit Voldemort knew how to do good tricks. But I desperately needed to breathe some fresh air.

- Let me out. – I said-
- Shut up. –he ordered-
- Many people will be looking for me, I warn you! –I yelled, waving a threatening finger-

- Oh. That sounds so scary –he chuckled-.
- If you’re planning to hold me for ransom, let me tell you that it’s not a good idea: I’m just a working girl and I’m poor.
- I know. I haven’t grabbed you and forced you into the car just for peanuts -he said, roaring with laughter-.
- Then… who are you and what is it you want?

A dark tinted glass screen right in front of us didn’t let me see who was driving, but I knew there was somebody else there. I leaned back beside my weird kidnapper and stared into his eyes, challenging him. He stared back at me.

- I want you to give this message to Ed Davies: Tell him the blaze that has destroyed his business is just a reminder of the deal he made with his old friend Jimmy Moon some two hundred years ago in Vienna. The deadline is over now and if he fails to fulfil his part of the deal… there will be consequences. –he said, very seriously-.
- Jimmy Moon? Is that you?
- Yes, that’s me.
- And what will be the consequences? –I asked in concern-.

- Ed seems to be very … emotionally attached to you. I may want to take your lovely soul and the halo of life that surrounds you… just to show him that gentlemen must observe their oaths. Mmm… you have such a bright and lively aura about you. –he said, drawing an imaginary circle above my head-.

His black fingertips framed my face and touched my cheeks lightly. I perceived a sort of dark lust in his touch and so I stepped back. I was very frightened. His threaten sounded true, but I didn’t want to look weak and found strength out of weakness.

- Stop playing Bergman’s Seventh Seal, man; this is not a chess game between you and me to take my life! –I screamed, hitting back-
- Oh, no. I won’t be taking your life, Leni, but just this crown of vivid energy that you radiate. –he sketched again a circle around my head with his index finger-. First you will lose your liveliness; then, you’ll become a black rose and finally… you’ll embrace the dark. –he whispered-.

The wheat fields surrounding the city faded away as we flew over them. Thousands of ice flowers splashed with white the trace of burnt land we had left behind. The devastating sight of destroyed life was horrific.

The car landed smoothly on that gloomy landscape. Jimmy Moon looked at me and said solemnly:

- You’re free to go now. But tell your man he will lose you forever if he doesn’t do what he’s got to do.

I nodded. The door to the car opened and I jumped out, as scared as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The door closed by itself behind me and Jimmy Moon’s car took off again, disappearing into the clouds.

I didn’t know where I was. There wasn't cell phone coverage. I asked myself what Ed and Jimmy Moon’s deal was about and why I played such an important role there.

I felt I was a fairly small thing: just a doll. I decided to rip my clothes off, starting with my skirt and throw the little pieces of fabric on my way back to the civilized world, hoping somebody would find me.

I walked for hours on the burnt grass, completely lost; disoriented, I uselessly looked for a specific direction to find my way back to the city; but there was no trace of a reference to help me do that.

After a while, my skirt became unbelievably short. There was no more fabric left. I had even thrown my shoes away. My legs and feet were grazed, cut and bruised by the ice flowers. I had bloodstains in my ankles.

The sun was already high in the sky; still I couldn’t see anyone around. My whole body was aching. I sat on the frozen ground and cried.

Suddenly, my cell phone went.

- Leni, I’ve been calling you for hours but I just got your voicemail. –said Ed-. There's been a big fire at Kynkybooks office and the building is completely burnt.

- I know.

- Where are you?

I stopped my sobbing and said:

- Jimmy Moon pulled me into his car this morning and asked me to give you this message: you have to fulfil your part of the deal or you won’t see me again.




"Hyperballad" (Björk)

Thick columns of black smoke

It was 8.30 am and I was driving down the highway on my way to work, when I saw far away a thick column of black smoke that was visible across the Grytviken Valley.

‘Something’s burning down there’ –I said to myself-.

I know I sounded like that obnoxious popular pet phrase from Tweety's cartoons -‘I thought I saw a pussy cat’ (=‘I taught I taw a putty tat’) -, pronounced in front of a drooling open-mouthed Sylvester wanting to eat him, right before Granny or Hector the bulldog would stop him.

I was actually worried. I had the feeling that something terrible was going on, but didn’t know exactly what.

The last time I had witnessed a thick column of black smoke that could be seen for miles it was two months ago, driving down that same highway too. A plane had just crashed as it was taking off at the airport.

‘Something’s burning down there’ –I thought that time as well-.

I was not aware that almost 160 persons had just died or were just dying at that very same moment. It was the worst tragedy ever happened in the Sandwich Islands: None of the passengers aboard the plane survived.

The previous time I had seen a thick column of black smoke before the day of the plane crash, it was two years ago, as I drove back home from work. Very near my flat -in a quiet residential area- a big transformer was burning in an electrical substation. A large part of the city was affected by the power cut for almost one day. It smelled awfully smokey. Neither the traffic lights nor the lamp-posts worked. People wandered like sleepwalkers in the ghostly streets at night with the help of torch lights, while drivers managed not to get involved in a bad car crash driving through the crazy Sandwichian traffic.

The elevators wouldn’t work. I panted heavily after walking from the second basement to the third floor with one of my neighbours who used a lighter to see. I’m not used to do that. I’m one of these lazy persons who even take the elevator to go to the first floor. ‘Leave exercise to the fat’ –said to me the doctor once, when I asked him if it was a good idea to do some aerobics to keep fit-.

Believe it or not, previously I had even seen another thick column of black smoke four years ago, on a fine Monday afternoon, as I entered Dumbass Industries' premises after my lunch break.

‘Something’s burning down there’ –was again my recurrent thought, as I rushed to the main entrance-. And I was right: as the say goes, there’s no smoke without fire.

The guys from the Maintenance Department were testing the new fuel powered heating system and they were so enthusiastic about it that Big Cheese’s office burned like a Roman candle.

What was supposed to be an efficient emergency plan designed years ago to prevent situations like that one, failed completely. As it could be expected from Big Cheese, the Maintenance Manager and those who tested the heating system were fired –never better said-.

Normally, in the case of a fire at Dumbass Industries, I would feel inclined to just run away and save my ass; but unfortunately I’m among the six selected few who own a wonderful blue reflective vest, ten sizes bigger than mine. These selected few are responsible for the peaceful and safe evacuation of the staff in Building 1. They call us ‘The Smurfs’.

So when I arrived, they quickly gave me a blue vest, I joined my Smurf mates and checked that the area I was responsible for was clear.

It was easy. Everybody had left the building safe and sound twenty minutes ago, since it started smelling like something was burning. People were hanging around in the back gardens, happily talking about having a cup of coffe and celebrate that Big Cheese’s files all had gone up in smoke, while the firemen were finishing their job.

We were relocated in the chairman’s office while our area was rebuilt. Big Cheese was cranky and annoyed like a small kid. He locked himself in his office and ignored everyone and everything for one week. He started smoking again and eating compulsively huge amounts of all kinds of candy. He played furiously minesweeper and downloaded a zillion songs of Deep Purple, AC/DC and The Talking Heads from iTunes, while his pending papers piled up on my desk.

I uselessly tried to call his attention to forget about the disaster and start doing something, but he took his time. During that period, he tortured me playing David Byrne’s “Burning down the house” at full blast in his iPod’s loudspeakers until he decided it was time to wake up from lethargy.

But going back to that fourth thick column of smoke I could see from my car, –again- I repeated to myself:

‘Something’s burning down there’. That recurrent thought in my mind didn’t seem to go away, no matter what I did. Those words were already becoming a bad omen.

I got the shivers. Something was happening downtown and it looked like it was really serious. I stopped the music and switched the radio on. A woman speaking with high-pitched voice said:

“… BREAKING NEWS: A huge fire broke out this morning at Kynkybooks premises, in the center of Grytviken and threatened to spread to nearby buildings. There are no immediate reports of injuries among the staff of the publishing company, although the fire has not yet been put out. The fire cannot be contained because of the strong winds. Two loud explosions were heard before it had started, but it’s not clear yet what could cause the blaze. A police team rushed to the scene to restore order as panicky residents scampered off to the nearby streets looking for shelter. The firemen are using water from the sea to douse the flames and structures to prevent the fire from spreading. We’ll keep you informed and up to date in the next edition of the news…”

My heart started beating like a machine gun: Kynkybooks was burning! Ed’s business was burning! I immediately called him on his cell phone, but it was engaged. I left him a hundred messages as I approached the city center, but he wouldn’t answer them.

I decided to drive there. The street was blocked. I counted up to eleven fire trucks. The police had marked off a safety area with fences. The fire was ruining Ed’s prosperous publishing business. Kynkybooks modern premises were engulfed in flames. It looked like hell’s inferno.

I stopped the car and went down. I walked towards Kynkybooks premises and saw Ed standing in front of the building, hands on hips, then tearing out his hair, frantically speaking on his cell phone, shouting… when a black car with tinted windows stopped beside me. The rear window rolled down and a big hand gestured for me to come nearer. I couldn’t see who was inside.

As I approached, the hand grabbed my neck and a masculine low voice ordered:

“Into the car, Leni”.

The door to the car opened and someone from the outside pushed me in as the hand that had come out of the car window pulled firmly my arm. It was dark inside. I fell on the car seat.

When I lifted my eyes, I just saw a big human shape folded in a black cape. His rainbow coloured eyes stared at me.


- Who the hell are you?–I asked-
- That’s not important for the moment.
- I asked who the hell you are.

The car started moving and I desperately tried to open the door, but I couldn’t.

- Oh no. –I said, trying to open the door-
- Oh yes. There’s no use trying. It’s closed. We’re moving.

Who the hell was that guy??? And where the hell were we going???




"Burning down the house" (The Talking Heads).