Here is another extract our of my 1st book:
An vast fire was ravaging everything as it went by. The sky was darkened by the ashes and smoke scattered about by the wind. People were running around, panic-stricken. They were unthinkingly moving on. They were scrambling, not knowing what to salvage before it was too late. Some women were screaming they might have forgotten something at home. The people were so terrorized… Some thought they were more safety at their place ; they were tried to be gotten reasonable, but in vain. The fire was still and still moving forward. It was advancing as fast as the wind was pushing it. On the other side of the village : the sea. But no ! The fire had to come towards the inhabitants who felt that like a real persecution from the elements.
The inhabitants all perished in that fire. No one got away from it. Men, women, children, old men, animals… The houses firmly built by the sweat of their brow : ashes. Everything was no more than ashes. A lifeless landscape. So radiant, so full of life, the village disappeared from the surface of Earth by the breath of fire.
Years afterwards…
The place of the village was no more than a pile of earth, grasses and ashes, forming a hill around which some hotels for tourists longing for thrill were flourishing : this hill would be cursed… The inhabitants in the area felt obliged to exclude at once anyone who would have the audacity to come near. According to a legend, a section of the hill would have become a cliff where an eerie force would be asleep…
In the region a meeting with pupils from various horizons, coming to debate prejudices, took place.
Maria felt lost in all those corridors to pace up and down. This building was worse than a labyrinth ! For instance, to go to the room A : first on the left after the projection room, then on the right after the cafeteria. Where was the projection room ? Which cafeteria ? Moreover people were running around. She didn’t dare to ask whoever it be for her way : they seemed so busy, so preoccupied.
At last the week-end… The sun was on date ; not a cloud on the horizon. One could see as far as one wanted to. Why not take advantage of that ? Walk and take some photos ? She asked the people whom she had become acquainted with and laughed a little for coming with her. Meeting with several refusals, she made up her mind to go alone, determined not to shut herself up with so a beautiful weather.
On the way, she came across a girl who answered to the name of Soraya, whom she had a time with. They chattered. Although they attended the same debates, they hadn’t seen one another. Making the most of the weather, they went for a walk together, till Soraya walked away, giving as an excuse they had “not to go on the hill because an evil force was dormant and waiting for someone to come so as to take possession of his spirit. As this force can’t bear being disturbed, some inhabitants are dead burned alive !”. She stayed on to eat something, watching her sniggering away, and disappearing in the forest.
Maria took some steps forward towards the famous hill, took some photos. She was tempted to approach more amply not to give in to old superstitions. Some clouds which arrived unexpectedly drained a torrential rain. So she decided to go back. Too bad for the hill.
When she arrived in the refectory in the evening, everybody was looking down on her. Nobody wanted to eat with her. Nor to speak with her. “So much the better, I’ve more space to eat”. She knew at heart she only said that to herself to get over her loneliness. She didn’t understand what was, suddenly, happening : though she was so anonymous, she had turned into a real celebrity.
This predicament lasted, endured. When she was passing in the corridors, either people stopped talking and watched her pass, or they started murmuring behind her back. Some deigned at times to address a glance at her. As everybody refused to talk with her, she focused on her work. But in which conditions ? “Witch !”, “Demon !”, “Satan !”… Some people who didn’t know her and had never talked with her judged her, abused her.
A day, Soraya came and talked with her like to a childhood friend. She appreciated that a person had the audacity to come and speak to her. They exchanged about all her secrets. Her presence comforted her, relieved her. She thought it was time for someone to make the effort to understand her. It’s true, she had attempted to go on that hill, but it had rained ! Soraya told her that on the contrary she did go there : controlling extraordinary phenomena tempted her.
After some days, the abuses intensified. The secrets she had confided to an only single person cropped up in what was reproached her. So she went to meet Soraya to ask her for explanations. Seeing she wasn’t alone, she waited. Her loneliness enabled her to think over at length. Soraya was laughing, and so did the ones who were with her. She peered more, and was choked with seeing her in the company of her torturers. She stayed still, like paralyzed. Those ones were joking about that. She wished then her credulity had not driven her to trust that person.
She ran to her bedroom, and she cried her heart. Her tears were drenching her pillow. She would have liked to become invisible. She had closed the door : at present she couldn’t stand the others’ look, so didn’t she the murmurs. Her breathing was irregular, her breath deep. She had the impression that everybody was at her, had a grudge against her. She no longer dared to go out of her bedroom. Yet she was forced to so as to study. Weeping had so much tired her that she fell asleep.
When she woke, her breathing was regular again, and her mind soothed. Which enabled her to think calmly over what had just occurred. Which sin ? Which crime ? She had been thrown out into the stake without more explanations. Her defense had been thrown to the Devil. Who himself didn’t know what to make of it !
Then she understood…
Soraya, so-called friend, had told the others she had gone on the hill. She had preferred to transfer her own story on somebody else. It’s so easy to betray someone whose trust is had. She figured out how the others had been able to be credulous, just as much as she had been. Her powers as a story teller, on the verge of the mythomania, and her friendship with certain people, had favored her to turn Maria’s studies into an ordeal. It was all the easier as Maria didn’t belong to their “background”, to their “tribe”.
It’s all the same paradoxical that people who keep repeating they are not afraid of strangers dread them in fact ; and banish them as soon as they suspect them of being “special”.
An vast fire was ravaging everything as it went by. The sky was darkened by the ashes and smoke scattered about by the wind. People were running around, panic-stricken. They were unthinkingly moving on. They were scrambling, not knowing what to salvage before it was too late. Some women were screaming they might have forgotten something at home. The people were so terrorized… Some thought they were more safety at their place ; they were tried to be gotten reasonable, but in vain. The fire was still and still moving forward. It was advancing as fast as the wind was pushing it. On the other side of the village : the sea. But no ! The fire had to come towards the inhabitants who felt that like a real persecution from the elements.
The inhabitants all perished in that fire. No one got away from it. Men, women, children, old men, animals… The houses firmly built by the sweat of their brow : ashes. Everything was no more than ashes. A lifeless landscape. So radiant, so full of life, the village disappeared from the surface of Earth by the breath of fire.
Years afterwards…
The place of the village was no more than a pile of earth, grasses and ashes, forming a hill around which some hotels for tourists longing for thrill were flourishing : this hill would be cursed… The inhabitants in the area felt obliged to exclude at once anyone who would have the audacity to come near. According to a legend, a section of the hill would have become a cliff where an eerie force would be asleep…
In the region a meeting with pupils from various horizons, coming to debate prejudices, took place.
Maria felt lost in all those corridors to pace up and down. This building was worse than a labyrinth ! For instance, to go to the room A : first on the left after the projection room, then on the right after the cafeteria. Where was the projection room ? Which cafeteria ? Moreover people were running around. She didn’t dare to ask whoever it be for her way : they seemed so busy, so preoccupied.
At last the week-end… The sun was on date ; not a cloud on the horizon. One could see as far as one wanted to. Why not take advantage of that ? Walk and take some photos ? She asked the people whom she had become acquainted with and laughed a little for coming with her. Meeting with several refusals, she made up her mind to go alone, determined not to shut herself up with so a beautiful weather.
On the way, she came across a girl who answered to the name of Soraya, whom she had a time with. They chattered. Although they attended the same debates, they hadn’t seen one another. Making the most of the weather, they went for a walk together, till Soraya walked away, giving as an excuse they had “not to go on the hill because an evil force was dormant and waiting for someone to come so as to take possession of his spirit. As this force can’t bear being disturbed, some inhabitants are dead burned alive !”. She stayed on to eat something, watching her sniggering away, and disappearing in the forest.
Maria took some steps forward towards the famous hill, took some photos. She was tempted to approach more amply not to give in to old superstitions. Some clouds which arrived unexpectedly drained a torrential rain. So she decided to go back. Too bad for the hill.
When she arrived in the refectory in the evening, everybody was looking down on her. Nobody wanted to eat with her. Nor to speak with her. “So much the better, I’ve more space to eat”. She knew at heart she only said that to herself to get over her loneliness. She didn’t understand what was, suddenly, happening : though she was so anonymous, she had turned into a real celebrity.
This predicament lasted, endured. When she was passing in the corridors, either people stopped talking and watched her pass, or they started murmuring behind her back. Some deigned at times to address a glance at her. As everybody refused to talk with her, she focused on her work. But in which conditions ? “Witch !”, “Demon !”, “Satan !”… Some people who didn’t know her and had never talked with her judged her, abused her.
A day, Soraya came and talked with her like to a childhood friend. She appreciated that a person had the audacity to come and speak to her. They exchanged about all her secrets. Her presence comforted her, relieved her. She thought it was time for someone to make the effort to understand her. It’s true, she had attempted to go on that hill, but it had rained ! Soraya told her that on the contrary she did go there : controlling extraordinary phenomena tempted her.
After some days, the abuses intensified. The secrets she had confided to an only single person cropped up in what was reproached her. So she went to meet Soraya to ask her for explanations. Seeing she wasn’t alone, she waited. Her loneliness enabled her to think over at length. Soraya was laughing, and so did the ones who were with her. She peered more, and was choked with seeing her in the company of her torturers. She stayed still, like paralyzed. Those ones were joking about that. She wished then her credulity had not driven her to trust that person.
She ran to her bedroom, and she cried her heart. Her tears were drenching her pillow. She would have liked to become invisible. She had closed the door : at present she couldn’t stand the others’ look, so didn’t she the murmurs. Her breathing was irregular, her breath deep. She had the impression that everybody was at her, had a grudge against her. She no longer dared to go out of her bedroom. Yet she was forced to so as to study. Weeping had so much tired her that she fell asleep.
When she woke, her breathing was regular again, and her mind soothed. Which enabled her to think calmly over what had just occurred. Which sin ? Which crime ? She had been thrown out into the stake without more explanations. Her defense had been thrown to the Devil. Who himself didn’t know what to make of it !
Then she understood…
Soraya, so-called friend, had told the others she had gone on the hill. She had preferred to transfer her own story on somebody else. It’s so easy to betray someone whose trust is had. She figured out how the others had been able to be credulous, just as much as she had been. Her powers as a story teller, on the verge of the mythomania, and her friendship with certain people, had favored her to turn Maria’s studies into an ordeal. It was all the easier as Maria didn’t belong to their “background”, to their “tribe”.
It’s all the same paradoxical that people who keep repeating they are not afraid of strangers dread them in fact ; and banish them as soon as they suspect them of being “special”.
