În ultima perioadă, am început să scriu povești. M-am gândit să postez primul capitol dintr-o poveste de groază la care lucrez de ceva vreme. Am să postez în fiecare săptămână câte un capitol și, dacă va strânge destule vizualizări, atunci am să postez și următorul capitol. Orice comentariu pozitiv sau negativ va fi folosit în îmbunătățirea textului și a blogului în general. Vă doresc o săptămână plăcută și, un început de primăvară cât mai reușit!
...
Drepturile de autor pentru desen îmi aparțin.
Cătun
I
I think I might be going crazy. I have no other explanation for what I am about
to tell you. I can only say that for the last two weeks I barely got any sleep,
lost my job, my girlfriend, and my joy of life.
It all started like I mentioned
a couple of weeks ago. I was with my girlfriend.
I come from a small village
in Romania, deep in the Carpathian Mountains, near a monastery. Life is pretty
bleak here, especially during the fall as the place does not draw many
tourists. The village is also semi-deserted, as a lot of adult population here
had gone many years ago to work in countries such as Germany, Italy or England
in order to be able to send money back home. This is a rather common thing in
Romanian villages, as life here is pretty bleak and parents face no other
alternative other than working as cab drivers, cleaning ladies or nannies in
more developed countries, even if many of such individuals are highly educated.
Such villages are thus,
filled with the elderly, children, and very few adults. Life is bleak, like I
said. You can rarely hear a car passing by, a child laughing or someone having
a party. Maybe other villages are not so deserted like this one, maybe I am
exaggerating by generalizing, but what I know for sure is that my village was
such a place. It is called “Cătun”.
Don’t bother looking it up. It’s not marked on the map. And it’s better that
you never find out how to get here.
Actually, I would be
surprised if any Romanian, other than the ones living in neighboring villages,
would know about this place. It is so small that, other than a mini-market, a
church, and a couple of houses, the village contains nothing more. The view is
astonishing. Imagine living in an extremely small rural area, surrounded by
massive mountains, trees, with no other connection to the main road other than
a poorly cemented road, meant only for small cars. There are no plains, but
only mountains. It is like the village itself, had carved its shape into the
mountains, like a river in stone.
I don’t live here anymore,
but my grandparents do. I occasionally visit them and I never stop being wooed
by the terrifyingly dominant nature of this place.
I decided one day, to take my
girlfriend and show her where I grew up. I don’t live in Romania anymore, and I
rarely visit my grandparents. I explained to her that it’s not going to be a
very diverse and fun visit, but maybe we could go hiking and spend a night in
the woods. I knew the mountains, the woods, and how to avoid brown bears like
the palm of my hand, as I grew up there.
...
We rented a car from the
closest city after we arrived in the country, and drove to “Cătun”. You have to
drive on the main road for an hour or so, before the cemented road becomes more
and more damaged, like it just got bombarded. I can’t imagine how the truck
which provides for the village mini-market manages to cross this road. The
people in this village rarely go to the city, so the use of a car is not so
common around this area. Like I said, I grew up here and I can tell you it
wasn’t always like this. Ever since adults started fleeing the place, after
communism collapsed in 1989, the rural area became more, and more…neglected.
The time to reach the village
isn’t long after the roads become more deteriorated. At some point, high, Rocky
Mountains can be sighted in the far. On the left and right side of the road,
trees become more and more thick, closer to each other, and climb the mountain
which start immediate after the margins of the road. It is like, a butter has
been cut with a knife, and build a road right where the cut has been made, or
like, a thick and long crater. It is astonishing really. The only way you can
see the sky is if you look 90 degrees up. It is not very pleasant if you are
claustrophobic but…astonishing indeed.
After 5 minutes of driving
through this gate of nature, the space surrounding the road immediately spreads
giving space for a small hill, on which the village is built, surrounded by
high, Rocky Mountains, covered in forests with the road leading up to the hill.
All you can hear are river sounds, birds, and the roar of the car which goes
like a monstrous machine from the future in this place which time seems to stay
in place. An eerie feeling fills my stomach the moment I roll down the window.
An eerie feeling of mysticism, surrealism. It is like I just traveled back in
history. It felt isolated. I know I grew up here but, I don’t recall so much
quietness, quietness from people’s activity. Plus I only lived here until I was
10.
We had to park our car at the
end of the road, as the village had only dirt roads. There was no need, there
were no more than 10 old houses. There
were another 10 houses but they seemed deserted, crushed by the emptiness of
time, offering food for imagination on how this mystical place used to look
like a couple of decades ago, when it was populated, and when children were
running around, laughing and playing, and when people used to walk these dirt
roads, talking, working, offering life to this still rural fauna.
There was nobody outside.
Only old people lived here now. This made the place more eerie. Looking at the empty
village, the mountains, the forests, and the sounds of birds and a nearby
river, it really brought up to me the feeling of a place which time forgot. A
place where anything could happen and there would be nobody to witness it.
-“Ok,
so where is your grandparent’s house sweetie?” asked Clara.
As we started climbing the
hill, we could see the houses more clearly now.
-“It’s
the third one on the left. With green walls.”
-“You
should have told them you are coming. That’s what I think. You don’t want to
bring surprises to people this old. How old are they?”
-“I
think 100 years. And I couldn’t announce them anyways. They don’t have a
phone”.
-“They
don’t have a phone?!? How do they communicate with the outside then? What if
one of them gets sick?”
-“There
is one truck which comes weekly for the mini-market here. That’s how. They talk
to the driver. He usually helps them communicate with their grand-sons, on so
on “.
-“That,
is so weird”
said Clara in a quiet voice.
Clara was breathing a little
heavy, quietly hyperventilating, as climbing the hill wasn’t so easy. She
wasn’t complaining though. She was a tough woman and didn’t wanted to complain
in such a moment. One could only imagine how some old people are able to go up
and down such a hill in order to reach their houses. But I guess, one can only
get used to such a life.
-“I
can’t imagine how you were able to live in such a place. So, ripped apart from
technology, and from civilization. Don’t get me wrong Michael but the fact that
I know you work in an IT company, at the 48thy floor in a 50 stories high
building, makes me feel dumbfounded seeing where you lived the first 10 years
of your life”.
Said Clara, slightly breaking her promise from a second ago to not complain,
but I guess she was just, like she said, dumbfounded. I never told her in
detail about my early childhood, mostly because; well…I didn’t want to. There
were some things I didn’t felt comfortable to tell anyone, even to a friend or
a lover.
-“Well
I quickly left the place after my 10th birthday. Remember I told you
my parents came back for me from England and took me to live there with them. Besides
I didn’t know any better back then”.
-“Can’t
imagine how you felt being in a big city like London for the first time after
living here.”
-“It
was like taking a man from the 1800 hundreds directly to the 21st
century”,
said Michael laughing with difficulty, as he was also a little tired from
climbing the hill.
-“Well
I suppose you…”
Clara stopped. “What was that?”
-
“A lonesome bear”
Said Michael laughingly.
Deep in the forests, a growl could
be heard. But only for a couple of seconds. “Well,
it is mating season for bears you know. Ah, looks like we’re here!”
And there it was.
It looked like a Victorian
village, too small to be called a village, but it did looked Victorian. Almost
like a city from those computer strategy games, where there is a limit of 8 to
10 houses per settlement. The order of the buildings was also chaotic. There
wasn’t a clear way between the structures, and even if it were to have cemented
roads, there wouldn’t be any way to create a clear path. Only dusty, sometimes
grassy top of the hill, where God mistakenly added a couple of houses. And a
mini-market. It really looked like a “Cătun”.
-“Can’t
imagine how this place looks during rainy season”. Said Clara little disturbed now by
the chaos of the village. “And where is
the Monastery. You said there is a monastery here.”
Michael pointed his finger on
top of one of the mountains surrounding the hill. There you could see, hiding
behind the massive mountain trees, some red rooftops, and an Orthodox cross,
looking over the whole region.
-“There
are people living there?!? How do they get from there to here?”
-“They
don’t. Well rarely. They mostly eat on the pigs, cows and sheep which live up
there. It’s more like a monk place, if you will. This is a place of meditation Clara as you can see. There is little to no stress here. Let’s just say this is the
smaller version of Athos Mountain in Khalkidhiki” Said Michael jokingly.
-“Ok
so where is your grandparents house. There is literally, no one here. I’m
looking through the windows and there is no one Michael. Are you sure they
aren’t dead or something. Maybe we should go to the mini-market. There it is!”
-“Calm
down Cass. They’re here. They’re just too old to be aware of their
surroundings. I think almost everyone here is 100. Their children and
grandchildren are all gone. Who would venture here to see a 100 year old
grandparent or great-grandparent?”
-“So,
weird”, said
Clara again, in a low tone.
-“Ah,
there it is!”
Said Michael with a confident tone, pointing his finger again.
There it was. A small, ground
floored only house. With green, painted walls and a grey rooftop. There was
also a small porch where you could fit two chairs, maybe for those sunny summer
days, where one wouldn’t be able to stay in the house all day, and would rather
enjoy a glass of cold beer. The windows looked old, cracked from corner to
corner, and the draperies were covering the back of the windows, not giving out
any glimpse of what was inside. The walls were also cracked from place to
place, like an earthquake tried to shatter the building sometime in the past,
but failed. There were flowers on the left and right side of the stairs leading
to the porch, but they were dead. Probably because people so old can barely
walk to the bathroom.
-
“Knock Knock”.
Michael knocked on the door
as it was locked. “Hey, granma’,
grandpa’! It’s me Michael! Are you home?” Cried Michael in an attempt to
draw their attention. Most probably their hearing wasn’t so good anymore.
Nothing. No answer.
-“Hey
maybe there is a back door”
Said Clara
.
-“Good
idea.” Said
Michael.
They both went about to the
back of the house at the other door. Once there, you could clearly see a dog
house on one of the corners of the lawn.
-“That
must be Skyppy. I remember they just bought a dog when I came here last time,
15 years ago. You can go and greet Skyppy if you want. But I don’t think he
would be much of a company. He’s should be old already by now”.
Michael went inside of the
house, as the door was opened on trial, and Clara went to the small dog house.
It was a fragile wooden structure. Dusted and dirty with mud. Clara approached
the small house and crouched in order to see inside.
-“Hey,
Skippy, doggie. Are you there?” Said Clara in a cute voice. “Hey, is anyone home?” Said again Clara, inserting her head inside
as it could be seen there was a dog inside, standing still. “Hey Skippy, are you sleeping? Are you…
Oh
my God! OH. MY. GOD!”
Clara immediately stormed her
head out of the house, dropping on her back on the muddy ground, with a
shocking expression on her face. The dog, was dead. And it looked to be dead for
some time…it was partly decomposed and had worms crawling on the body of the
animal. The flowers were also dead. “This
place is not right!” Thought Clara in her panic rush.
-“Michael.
Michael! Are you inside?”
Cried Clara, now feeling dread for being there in the back of the house, all by
herself.
-“Michael!”
“Yes.
Yeah”.
Responded Michael, with a hollow voice.
-
“Don’t come inside Clara. Just, just don’t. They…they’ve passed away…for some
time”.
-“Oh
my God Michael. What kind of place is this?!?...Sorry”. Said Clara, apologizing
immediately after realizing that what she said might have offended Michael.
-“It’s
a place filled with old people. Like I said. Let’s just go…”
-“Wait,
are we going to leave them here? Did you know Skippy is also dead?”
Michael looked with a sad
expression at Clara, sighing in disappointment as he wanted so much to
experience nostalgia, rather than dread. “There
is no phone signal here. I want to call my parents to tell them, plus I can’t
do anything right now about them”.
-“At
least let’s go to the mini-market and get some candles. You know…for the dead.”
-“Alright”. Sighed Michael again.
They went to the mini-market
which was in the center of all this chaotic structure, and this eerie
environment which quickly became disturbing for Clara . She just wanted to leave
this place as soon as possible. When they reached the store, there was nobody
inside selling, or buying.
There wasn’t anyone,
anywhere. The village was deserted. The market was all dusty and muddy, and
although there were products placed on the counter, they looked like they went
bad. That meant that even the truck didn’t come to the village for a while.
Michael didn’t know all of this. He should have documented himself before
coming here. He had no contact whatsoever with this place or the country for
years as he had no living relatives besides his grandparents, now passed away.
He felt so stupid and awkward now, that he had to witness such a sight after
all these years and what was worse, was that he took his girlfriend along the
way. What a sight indeed for a girl which never laid foot in Romania.
-“Michael,
I think the whole village is deserted”, said Clara, as she laid her eyes on a
window of a small, brownish house, just across the small mini market. As she
approached the window, there were no curtains and there was a clear sight of
the inside of the house. A small, rural, typical Romanian room, with one bed,
one table, a chair and a carpet on the wall for decoration purposes. On the
bed, lying face up, was an old couple. They seemed to stand still.
-“Michael…I think they are dead. I think all the houses are filled with
dead people!” Cried Clara as she trembled at the realization of seeing dead
people. She never got a chance to see her grandparent’s dead, as she was too
little when they passed away and as for her parents, they were both alive. A
strong sense of dread filled her body now, starting from her spine towards the
back of her head. Michael came along to watch what she had just witnessed and
asked her to step aside. He knew she felt significantly more uncomfortable
being there than him. He felt guilty, and disappointed. He also wanted to leave
that place but he had to think about a proper burial for his grandparents. And
to also let his parents know. Maybe he would go to the monastery. But Clara
would never approve to a 3-hour hike under these conditions.
Michael approached the front
door. He wanted to make sure these people were actually dead. He knew them. He
knew the house. He used to play with their grandson when he was a little boy,
thus he wanted to make sure these people were indeed passed away.
As Michael pressed his
fingers on the door knob, he suddenly realized it was unlocked. Clara was
waiting outside, trying to calm herself down, thinking only about leaving this
place for good. As he entered the room, a strong, foul smell filled his
nostrils and he quickly covered his nose with his sleeve. He wanted to back up
fast but something caught his eyes. He approached the two corpses, facing
up…eyeless. The corpses had no eyes.
…
And as he looked more
closely, they lacked fingers and the woman…had her face…chewed… like a face
made out of play-dough, which was chewed up by a dog…it was horrendous. It was
awful! This could never have happened by nature. This looked, human made.
In one breath, Michael ran
out of the house, and went straight to his grandparents’ house. Clara followed
behind him, dumbfounded at his silence when she asked what was happening. As
Michael entered his grandparents’ house again, he went straight to the bed,
where they were lying, face up…exactly like the other couple. There they were,
sleeping in silence. But then he looked closely. He carefully and slowly
uncovered the bed sheets covering up their bodies, only to reveal that…it was
eaten. It looked like the bodies had been eaten by a creature, and then covered
them back, leaving them there. Their expression looked peaceful, not scared, so
most probably it happened while sleeping. Michael put his sleeve again to cover
his nostrils, as the smell was unbearable.
-“I think we should leave. Now!” Said Michael as he stormed out of
the back door.
-“I know…but what happened. What did you see Michael?” asked Clara
anxiously.
-“I think there are too many bears here. It’s not safe.” Said
Michael not wanting to say any more.
-“So you are saying these people have…had…had been eaten?!?” Cried
Clara now feeling more panic in her chest. Her anxiety was kicking in, and
Michael knew this. He didn’t want to scare Clara too much as she was prone to
panic attacks and couldn’t handle anxious situations.
-“Let’s just leave” Said Michael, now in calm, calculated tone.
They went down the hill in
silence, surrounded by those eerie nature sounds. It was almost dawn, and
animal sounds were less and less audible. Only the wind and the nearby river
could be heard now, bringing and even more mystical feeling in the air. There
were also no street lights, and Michael had only one flash-light, in his
backpack. The moment they reached back the car, there was a breath of release
both on their side. They just closed the door, in silence, and started the car.
Michael turned the key in ignition, the car coughed a couple of times and then…it
died.
-“What the hell? No, no, no, no.”. Michael turned the key again, and
again, and again.
-“Fuck!” Yelled Michael, slamming the steering wheel.
-“The car won’t budge!”…
-“Maybe we…we…could…p-p-push
the c-c-car” Babbled Clara. She was
visibly in shock. The way back to the nearest village on foot would had took at
least an hour and it was getting darker and darker. Being just frightened that
the whole village could had been eaten by wild bears wasn’t too appealing to
her, and she would had never left that car.
-“Shhh. It’s alright Clara. Come here. It’s going to be alright. Come
here”. Said Michael, gently pushing Clara’s head on his chest, and slowly
patting her head.
-“Shhh. Breathe deeply. It’s going to be alright. Take it as a wacky
adventure, which we’re going to tell to our friends when we’re back in London.
They won’t even believe us right?” Said Michael, trying to smile, but it
was a fake smile. He too was a little terrified. Deep down in the woods,
somewhere in the nearby mountains, a growl was heard again, just like when they
first arrived, a couple of hours ago. Clara tightened her grip around Michael,
visibly trembling. The howl this time…sounded more like a scream, or a yell, an
angry yell. The yelling you hear in war movies…
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Un membru al familiei
tale? Un sportiv? O femeie periculoasă și seducătoare? Un student? Un ratat?
Fiecare dintre noi are o schemă pe care o folosește pentru a își da un sens în
această lume. Să le spunem auto-scheme. Poate fi împărțită între viziunea
ideală asupra ta, cea pe care o doreși, fie că faci ceva pentru asta sau e doar
gura de tine, imaginea pe care tu crezi că ar trebui să o ai (Să fii un părinte
bun, un cetățean care își plătește facturile și se duce în fiecare duminică la
biserică) și într-un final, adevăratul TU. Acel TU pe care poate îl știi și nu
vrei să îl accepți, sau îl accepți dar nu îl cunoști cu adevărat pentru că îți
este frică. Cine știe până la urmă? Cu toții avem demonii noștri. 
Sinele, de cele mai multe
ori este ca atunci când mergi pe o stradă aglomerată, plină de clădiri înalte,
într-o zi când te grăbești la muncă, sau unde ai tu treabă. De cele mai multe
ori urmărești drumul tău și eviți să ridici privirea, să realizezi câte lucruri
te înconjoară. Poate că de asta avem fel de fel de reacții atunci când valorile
noastre sunt atacate cu aspecte ale sinelui nostru, pe care nu îl acceptăm.
De multe ori simt că
însăși creierul nostru, ce ne ajută sa percepem toată lumea asta urâtă și
frumoasă, este în același timp și celula noastră. Suntem prizonierii unei minți
care nu poate să trăiască în discomfort, care vrea să se regleze după restul
minților, dintr-o frică primitivă de a nu rămâne în afara tribului, de a nu
muri. O minte ce alege interpretări alternative, atunci când apare o
contracție. Un creier ce ne limitează percepția spectrului de culori, sau al
sunetelor. Ca o foaie de hârtie. Tot ce se află dincolo de margini, nu putem
decât să ne imaginăm. 
Deși ești un rezultat al
societății în care ai crescut, online sau offline, foarte mulți oameni
reprezintă și ei acel rezultat. Tu faci parte la rândul tău din
societate și tu manipulezi pe alții. Suntem un mecanism. O mașinărie vie în care
fiecare piuliță o activează pe cealaltă. Exact ca și natura, sau universul.
Asta suntem. Sau poate că nu suntem deloc asta. Cine știe? Cine poate să știe
ceva sigur până la urmă? Nu suntem decât niște piulițe, dependente una de
cealaltă și în pace și în război. Un mecanism.
