Hexed

- I’m the man who loves you. –he said-

I had to hold on tight to the side of the table, because I started shaking like a leaf when he said that. The guy got me really flustered. He gazed into my eyes with his piercing look and I couldn’t think straight.

WOW.

Not happy with his stunning sentence, he took a short pause to breathe and continued to speak slowly.

- I can’t believe you have forgotten me just like that, Leni.

He said that in a low tone of voice; sadly; looking down. I flung myself into the armchair, squirming with embarrassment. My short skit and lace petticoat fluttered in my fall. Two buttons of my ridiculously tight blouse popped and broke. He fixed his eyes on my cleavage.

- Dude, I give up. You may be the man who loves me; my brother; the butcher or even the bloke who has impregnated me ten times, but I can’t even remember your face. I’m sorry, but I don’t know you, capisce? –I said rudely-

Can rudeness ever be polite? Of course the answer is no. I knew I had hurt him and I regretted my harsh words on the spot.

He sat back on the sofa, far from me and said:

- Listen to what I’m saying, please. Maybe this will help you remember who you are and where you come from. Your real name is Leni Qinan, not Nicolette Bixby. That’s a fake name you paid for when you thought you could get in trouble. You were born and lived in South Sandwich all your life. You worked four years as a lawyer for the Dumbass Industries. Your ex-boss, Harry Balls, aka Big Cheese, used to bully you and one day you decided to take three weeks off, pretending you had chicken pox. But in reality you went to Mawi-Mawi, where you were detained in the police station for going topless on the beach. Unfortunately, when you were released, your picture had been published in the Sandwichian newspapers. You boss caught you cheating and fired you. He banned you from the job market by spreading all kinds of false rumours about your supposed disloyalties. You’ve been unsuccessfully job hunting for six months and when you gave up all hopes, you ended up asking Hellgirl for help. She introduced you to his friend Demonius High, from the firm High, Low & Partners. They both had the great idea of hiring you as a social escort, in order to entertain his VIP customers. That included having sex with them, if requested. Your first and only client was Leonard Ellison, the Orsinian tycoon. He had two Viagras and you gave him two strong soporifics to prevent him from shagging you. Does that ring a bell?

Yes, I vaguely remember that night. I nodded. He continued talking.

- You decided to quit the job when Demonious forced you to take pictures of Leonard having sex with you, because you suspected that he would use them to blackmail him. That same night you disappeared in the ferry to the North Sandwich Islands.
- I never had sex with him! And I never took these pictures!–I said, a bit annoyed-
- Good for you, then! I’m not judging you! –he said, very upset-

That was a very accurate summary of my latest history. My gray matter was restoring its memory steadily without a break.

I was starting to remember but suddenly, my empathic brain sensed a new kind of emotion in that man’s heart: fierce jealousy. The green eyed monster was eating his soul from the inside.

- I remember that just some minutes ago someone blew silver itching powder into my face when I came upstairs. My eyes are still sore. –I said-
- Ok NOW this starts making sense… Tell me the name of the bastard, please.
- Why should I? What’s the matter?
- Leni, Nicolette… or whatever you think your name is… tell me who was that guy.
- One of my coworkers.
- Do you remember his name?
- Yes.
- What was it?
- Ruud.
- Good girl. Now Ruud what?
- I don’t know, sir –I cried, frightened-
- Oh shit, stop calling me sir, for fuck’s sake!!! –he shouted-

He immediately regretted having yelled at me. He turned back, ashamed and whispered:

- Please, excuse my disturbing you. I’m very troubled. But that is no excuse. Accept my sincere apologies.

An expectant silence filled the room. What could I say?

- So Ruud. I’ll find that asshole. He gave you amnesic powder. He’ll pay dearly for this. We need a sorcerer.-he said-
- A sorcerer! What for??? -I asked, a bit scared-
- To break the spell. It’s pretty obvious that you’ve been hexed. Otherwise you won’t be able to remember your past anymore. And then, this Ruud will get his comeuppance.

He meant a real sorcerer. When I was little, I saw “The sorcerer’s apprentice”, Mikey Mouse’s funny interpretation of Goethe’s poem with Dukas’ music in the background, in the beautifully strange film “Fantasia”. That day I learned that nobody should meddle with things they don’t understand.

Some years later, like all the kids of my age, I frantically played Monkey Island, Indiana Jones and the fate of Atlantis in my computer and… of course, Simon the Sorcerer: the only sorcerer I ever had something to do with.

- These are nothing but silly superstitions! –I said in anger-
- You don’t even know who you are. What other evidence you need? –he said, staring at me-.

At that point, I started throwing one of the biggest tantrums I’ve ever had in my whole life.

- And what will you do now? Call Harry Potter? Gandalf the Gray? Merlin the wizard? -I asked-
- Ok, dream on, smarty pants. But I’ll bring your memory back. –he answered-
- Listen, Mr. Whatever the Fuck Your Name is: my life was plain and ordinary until I entered this room. Will you please let me go and forget what has happened here forever?
- Wake up and smell the coffee, Leni. Your memory has been deleted and you can’t remember that your life has neither been plain nor ordinary. You’ve been blessed with the gift of life and you’re expected to complete an important assignment that hasn’t been revealed to you yet. Your fate is inevitably linked to mine and I can’t –I won’t- let you go, whether you like it or not. You don’t believe me now, do you? I don’t give a shit. I have time to wait until you realize it.

The gift of life? An important assignment that hadn't been revealed to me yet? Our fate linked together? What the hell was all that nonsense?

Suddenly, a strange guy came into the room. He was a solemn, skinny and serious being. From his clothes, I presumed he was the butler. But his most remarkable feature was that he looked like a hologram: his whole body was transparent. You could see through him in the most literal sense of the word!

- Is there anything you need, Mylord? –he asked-
- Yes, Stoicescu. We need to go back to South Sandwich immediately. Miss Qinan is joining us. She will need her own room in this suite and of course, new clothes according to her style. And I urgently need to speak to Nicolae the Long.

The transparent guy turned back to face me and greeted:

- It’s a real pleasure to meet you again, Miss Qinan.
- Don’t bother speaking to her. She’s been hexed and can't remember her past. This is why she’s being a bit silly and is so pissed off. -said Ed-

I looked at them out of the corner of my eye and shouted with rage:

- I’m not being silly!!!
- Oh, poor thing. My cousin was hexed by a witch with a major spell in 1516. His hair and nails turned to blue; he got a beak growing around his mouth; he forgot the language. All he could do was quacking. He didn’t recover his powers of speech until Nicolae the Long could break the spell, three weeks later. -said the butler, looking at me-
- That’s why we need him here to help her regain normalcy. -said Ed-
- Wait a minute guys… what do you mean 1516? We’re in 2010! And what’s all this nonsense about sorcerers dressed in cloaks and pointy hats? –I shouted-

They didn’t take any notice of what I said and walked to the other side of the room.

- You’ll have to excuse her. She doesn’t really mean what she’s saying. She’s a different creature now but she will be as sweet, witty and nice as ever when the spell is broken. Meanwhile, find me the sorcerer and please arrange it for him to come here as soon as possible.

The butler nodded and disappeared down the corridor.



"I don't even know myself" (The Who)

Who's afraid of flying?

After my ordeal with the Orsinian tycoon, his Head of Cabinet and their manic fits of rage and pride, I felt very disappointed; almost disenchanted. It’s amazing how some people’s childish super ego can grow to burst with imperial arrogance in the most typical Freudian fashion, making you feel from small to insignificant.

The roads were frozen outside and the streets were blanketed with ten inches of snow, so I decided to stay at Ed’s place. Besides, I felt floaty, lightheaded, and my stomach was starting to bother me. Soon the ground became spongy and I felt like I was going to fall. I flopped down on the sofa.

- Are you okay, Leni? –he asked-
- No. I’m dizzy and have a very upset tummy. –I answered-
- Lay down on the couch, please. I’m going to examine you.

Jeez, I forgot he had been one of the best physicians in Burdishland in his previous life! But that happened in the 17th century, so I asked myself what kind of examination was this going to be. Go figure! Actually… he had already examined me and explored my body as he pleased several times before, but not exactly for medical purposes.

To my surprise, he opened what appeared to be a doctor’s bag –like those that doctors of yesteryear carried on house calls- and took a stethoscope and a digital tensiometer out of it. He helped me undo my shirt very professionally, and checked my blood pressure. I was puzzled: they had none of these systems during the Age of Reason in Burdishland, but he seemed to have taken a refresher course in modern medicine.

- Your blood pressure is within the limits, Leni, but very much on the borderline. Let me auscultate you, please –he said, looking serious-

I removed my shirt and he carefully listened to my chest.

- You have a rapid heartbeat. Has it always been like this?
- Yes.
- And you say your stomach is upset.
- Yes. It started this morning. It comes and goes. Over here –I pointed where it bothered-
- Excuse me for such a silly question but, do you think you’re pregnant? –he asked, shyly-
- No, I’m not. –I answered, in a whisper-

He stopped and sighed deep.

- Then… you know what I think, sweety? –he asked, removing his stethoscope-.
- No, tell me. –I answered, intrigued-.
- I think that your life is full of hassles, deadlines, frustrations, and demands. I think that you put a lot of pressure on yourself with your writing and your hard working, and this is the result.
- I’m happy with my writing. It doesn’t stress me. Quite the contrary. –I said, a little bit offended-
- But you don’t get enough sleep. You write several hours every night after a long working day.

I sighed, very annoyed.

- It's ok Leni, I won’t say anything about the writing, because I know you like it and it's important for you; but I‘m concerned about you. I feel responsible for your health. You need to allow some private time for yourself, even if it’s just sitting on a bench in the sun, watching the people pass by. I do this from time to time: I lay down in my room, close my eyes and then escape to one of my favourite fantasy worlds: a desert lighthouse in Doom Rock, where I have been many years ago. I remember the sound of the waves crashing all night long against the cliffs; the feeling of safety and warmth within the lighthouse’s big round wall. I sometimes dream of an unnamed beach in a tropical country, where I once swam when I was young. I remember dropping pebbles in the water. Just a splash and they were gone, moving with the waves making a most peculiar sound; I also dream of a lonely small chapel at the steep coast of North Burdishland, where I wrapped myself in a warm blanket and felt instant warmth and comfort. I slept there one night, during a long pilgrimage along the coast. All these reveries give me a feeling of deep peace and satisfaction and help me recover my mind, body and soul quickly. What is your trick when you need to calm down, honey?

I looked down. I had such a hectic life and little time for myself. I had neither personal paradises nor places that I could remember as my favorite worlds of fantasy. I wish I had, but I hadn't travelled around that much, so I simply could not recreate in my memory those beautiful gardens of Eden.

Whenever I wanted to escape, relax and forget about my troubles… I simply wrote. Just with the help of my pen and my imagination I could travel to far away places, meet interesting people and live amazing stories. Not many circumstances could keep me away from writing. And if I ever failed that daily evening rendez-vous … then it meant something bad was happening to my soul.

- I have no tricks, Ed. –I had to admit-
- Then you need to find yourself one, love. Modern life is rubbish. Everybody is entitled to have a dream or a sanctuary to take shelter and find peace. It’s a self-defence and protection tool. Think of it.

I no longer had the strength to carry on with me, so I just nodded and smiled, weakly promising that I would.

- The butler will bring you a cup of warm tea now. That will help you soothe your stomach. And then you’ll have a tranquilizer.
- I don’t need one of these. –I said, pointing at the pill he was offering me-
- It’s not a drug, Leni, it’s just a soft medicine that will make you feel better.

The ghost butler brought a tray with a cup of steaming hot tea. I was feeling so bad that simply drank it and swallowed the downer without protesting.

Some minutes later I fell in a sweet state of drowsiness. I slowly leant over to Ed, until I ended up light sleeping, my cheek resting against his chest. The tension had melted away.

- Let’s make a fantasy for you, Leni. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to fly? I mean… not enclosed in an airplane... –he asked-
- Like a bird?
- Rather more like being carried into the sky by a giant balloon.
- No.
- You mean you’ve never imagined what it would be like to take a ride in a hot air balloon?

I shook my head. He started to talk in a steady, soothing, relaxing voice.

- That is one of the most peaceful experiences you could ever dream of. Up in the air you’re isolated and unreachable. There’s nothing there. Just the open sky. Nobody that can bother you. You can throw away your cellphone and pager; the keys to your car and house; your notepad; your pendrives; all the contents of your handbag. You don’t need anything there.

He took his magic fountain pen –the one I gave him for Christmas- and draw a big circle in the air. The circle grew hugely, finally becoming a giant red balloon that filled the room up to the high ceilings. He gently took my hand and we jumped into the large wicker basket.

What happened then, I still don’t know if it was real or was a mysteriously wonderful trick of my mind; but I do remember it as a perfect moment.

Nobody made sounds anywhere and it felt real warm in the basket. Suddenly the room disappeared. Ed fired the burner to reheat the air and the balloon started rising elegantly, slowly, drifting gracefully over the stunning landscape of the Sandwichian country all covered with snow. We were carried away by the wind from the mountains to the sea, over bridges, rivers, waterfalls and edges in the island.

- Have you ever floated like this through the sky, low as a cloud, free as a bird?
- No, never.
- Then enjoy this unique feeling of freedom; the air on your face…

I held him tight and forgot about my extreme fear of heights.

I forgot about my deepest sorrows.

All the bitterness vanished right away.

And when he kissed me, I felt safe and forgot about everything.

I simply felt alive.

A cocktail party invitation

Ms Leni Qinan is proud to announce that she has successfully completed and copyrighted her last novel “The Diary of a slave”, inspired by and dedicated to someone who couldn't bother reading it, and is undoubtedly pissed off at the author for having failed to tame her wild spirit and submit her rebel soul.

6 months deprived of sleep, writing and struggling with translations, typos and formats for countless hours, to produce:

173 pages
2.040 paragraphs
5.326 lines
38.677 words
215.088 characters

You are cordially invited to the cocktail party that will be offered to all those friends, playmates, neighbours and acquaintances who have been patiently and eagerly waiting for this moment.
Thank you very much for your constant love and support.

Wednesday, April 30th
7:00 – 10:00PM - South Georgia and South Sandwich Islands Ritz Hotel, Grytviken

No Gor players or weapons allowed.

I will be very honoured if you ever feel inclined to read my humble book. Reviewed and complete Spanish and English versions are available to anyone who wants to read them (top left links).

It certainly is a good night for me, because I am definitely free now and this is great news, wherever I am!

"TV song" (Zita Swoon) - Live at Rock Werchter (2005)

The intro is missing, but the song is incredibly beautiful and means a lot to me tonight.