《Anatherapoi》 Prologue Prologue ANATHERAPOI, such a... rich name," mumbled the guard before me, his matt hair falling in his face. He towered over me, with the most disappointing wanna be cruel look I''ve ever seen, he may have been huge, maybe even terrifying. Really, I just sat there bored. I did give it to him, he wasn¡¯t too bad at his job. I had my legs on the desk, laying back in the chair, could have sworn I heard the old wood creak beneath me. I saw the guard''s brow crook downwards, his eyes tingled as I slowly saw his stiff arms creeping towards the desk. "ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!" he hollowed as his fists finally connected to the flat surface. I suppose he was expecting me to flinch as he raised his eyebrow in a silent question. I didn''t even look at him as I rolled my head back, "Something about a rich name blah blah blah." I didn''t even have to raise my head to feel the waves of anger radiating from his side of the room, I slowly smirked just before I looked back into his angry gaze, "You can toss me against the wall, I¡¯d applause you even, just know that I wouldn''t be giving you any information." At this point you¡¯d believe that pure magma was colder than this room, with the heat of fumes deflating off this guard. "Anatherapoi?" he repeated starting again. My name was actually just Ann... I wasn''t going to tell him that, however. I went by Anatherapoi because Ann just didn¡¯t hit the right cord, a little basic in my opinion and¡­ also for when I get hooked up into situations like this.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The guard huffed up a heavy breath, "You don''t have to talk, we already have enough evidence on you, all we need you to tell us is, who else was involved, who planned this outrage. Maybe we could cut you a deal." My eyebrows raised in surprise, there was no one else involved, they would have known that if they really had evidence on me. "You''re bluffing," I replied, smirking. His nose twitched, "Ah so you were involved, weren''t you?" he sizzled proudly. I huffed and clumsily got up, "Thank you for your time, I will be leaving now," the guard nodded, then slowly realising turned around. "Wait! You can''t just leave! You''re the prisoner, I''m the integrator!" I grinned gripping on a bundle of paper in my pocket, "Actually, I can," I replied "I''ve been here since this morning, it''s noon and you have absolutely no evidence on me." Confusion flooded the guard''s eyes, "It''s not noon." I shifted my eyes towards the little window, "You remember the anonymous arrest last month? That was me. The sheriff decided to pay me in assets. Besides, you should trust your sheriff, he knows what he is doing." The guard shook his head, "Weeding out competition I see? Even so, you committed a crime, you shouldn''t be set free," I didn''t reply. Before he could bury me in more questions I stormed out the door. I may have committed a crime this very morning, I may not be a good guy. Far from it actually but I sure was better than the worst, well that''s also debatably. Although I had a clear purpose, one the world would soon see, someday. Chapter 1 Chapter 1 When starting to learn the piano, one first learns the C middle cord. Why not start at A? Well that''s a simple answer, this C is the least complicated, situated in the middle, it avoids all sharps and flats. And that''s exactly where this book begins, the middle of my life, but we¡¯re not remaining stationary at the middle C, this story takes a little bit of a C# turn otherwise known, in this case, as the C sharp major chord on a guitar. ¡°Ann, can you stop daydreaming for one second and at least pretend you are working, and at that fact, that you even actually like working here?¡± the voice of some brunette haired market manager, aka Bram. Bram¡¯s what I would not call my boss, even if he exceeds my position in this company. Oh right, I work at an insurance company, ¡®Gesbanosh Insurance.¡¯ Trust me, it''s definitely as shady as it sounds. The whereabouts of this company''s goals, unfortunately under evaluation(not). Bram did hit just outside the bullseye, he¡¯s right, I don''t like working here. But don¡¯t be mistaken, my position is all work. If I didn¡¯t want the job, I wouldn''t have been here right now. At one point, I really did appreciate my job here, that was until I discovered what really hides behind the mysterious liquid blue of this famous cooperation. ¡°If I remember correctly, didn¡¯t you hit your face in your plate of cake this morning after sleeping on the job?¡± I responded to Bram. To clarify, the cake was his birthday cake. A rather gooey old chocolate coffee cake, infact, there was still some icing in his hair. ¡°Don¡¯t test me today Ann, your family name doesn¡¯t give you a free pass, get back to work,¡± he scowled. Right. My family name. A sticky topic. ¡°Top right, in your hair,¡± I said tilting my head at Bram. He sank his hands in his hair and grimaced at the site of icing, ¡°Stop grinning at me like that,¡± he grumbled quickly, turning to walk away. ¡°Oh and Ann? There¡¯s a food spill in the kitchen, I want it cleaned.¡± ¡ª--¡ª Of course there was a food spill, standing with a mop in hand I was staring discouraged at a gulp of yoghurt. However, this wasn¡¯t an accidently food spill. The contents of the yoghurt had a sharp caramel smell, that of Bram¡¯s infamous yoghurt. If you touched it, you could consider your job as good as dust. This food spill was caused by Bram, and he wanted me to know that. ¡°Is that the boss¡¯s lunch?¡± asked a near inaudible voice. ¡°More like a rodent''s dinner,¡± I said, furiously sponging up the liquid. There was a cough from the voice, I abruptly spun around to face my coworker Samari, her wispy hazel hair seemed to fizz as her toffee eyes grew in size, but it had nothing to do with what I said, she was staring to the right. I whisked around to be confronted by someone I didn¡¯t wish to see, Bram¡¯s boss. The boss. He, along with an older man, owned the majority of the Gesbanosh company. They were the ones who walked with the power to influence what happens to your career. You do not want to upset them. The boss has been running this company for the past six years, he mostly stayed a tight radius near his office, it was actually a wonder to see him here. ¡°What do you have for lunch if you feel such a strong urge to insult my food?¡± he asked, trying to keep his temper mild. I glanced where his eyes led, behind me was a foil box filled with thin french fries with a possible bbq and honey mustard sauce drizzled on top, with a generous coat of parsley leaves. It looked delicious, then I froze. The boss¡¯s lunch¡­ ¡°I¡¯m so sorry! I didn¡¯t mean, I was talking about the mess on the floor, and, and-¡± ¡°What did you have for lunch?¡± he asked again. ¡°I haven''t had lunch,¡± I said, looking at the ground shuffling from foot to toe. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°I hope you aren¡¯t planning to eat the rodents meal for the sake of your health,¡± he responded, looking pointedly at the yoghurt strawen across the stubbed tiles. ¡°No, of course not why-¡± I tried to retort but the boss was already walking away and that''s when I remembered that Samari was still there and I realised that the boss wasn¡¯t going to punish me because he already did. ¡ª----- Trying to keep my head buried under my paperwork didn''t work. The rumour had already sprung. ¡°What am I hearing about a mouse thief in the office?¡± said a familiar voice. Batting with my pen still in hand, I heard a sharp yelp before I glanced upwards. ¡°That''s a disgraceful way to put it,¡± I grumbled, ¡°I discreetly overheard our ¡®oh so empathic¡¯ coworkers call me a rabies rat.¡± I slumped my head back down. ¡°Well, our butterfly friends don¡¯t have a big enough mouth for this treat,¡± said the familiar, shaking a paper bag. ¡°You bought me a donut, didn¡¯t you?¡± I laughed. Feeling like a slug I lifted myself off the desk. The familiar, who had the nerve to sit on the rather dingy desk I worked at, was grinning at me with satisfaction. Her ember eyes sparked with mischief. She did something. That''s when the reek washed over my senses. ¡°On the souls of the ice age, please don¡¯t tell me you put a rotten potato in Samari¡¯s desk.¡± The eyes were complimented with a deeper grin, ¡°I put a whole bag of rotten potatoes inside her desk.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. This wasn¡¯t the first time this happened. A year ago, when I started working here I had my own share of a rotten scone hidden in my desk, it took me a week to find the culprit. The girl before me, who I now called a friend, hadn''t liked me at first, in all honesty it was my family name that threw her. My father had built quite a reputation, but once the girl let the image of him slide, she became the one to defend, in exchange for the quiet assailant she had been. Sakria Draken, a honest accountant for the financial sector, as her image portrayed but to me she would always be the one who wasn¡¯t afraid. Chewing on my custard cream donut I listened to Sakria talking about building an aeroplane that would transport the stray cats, in the city, to a restored island where she¡¯d heard there lived plenty of dedicated cat ladies. She¡¯d just gotten to the part about where the funds would come from when she europted off the desk to chase down one of Bram¡¯s partners, for trying to throw a paper crumbled at my head. Unmotivated, I slowly turned back to the glaring paperwork stacks. I worked as a clerk for the Logistics sector, and right now it really felt like the paper stacks were burning holes into my soul. It wasn¡¯t that this company was evil, it was just that reading through all these documents hurt. Not in a lazy way. It hurts to read through the filed reports and the declines to pay out for them for something as accidental as having left a wallet on your car seat.¡±It''s your fault, we can¡¯t pay out,¡± they say, and here I sat signing it as read for these documents would just go into a cabinet and be forgotten. Originally I had applied to this job because I believed I could make a difference from here on out, I couldn¡¯t be more wrong. I didn¡¯t hold that power and I never would, not from within this company if this where I remained, but a promotion was just as far fetched as changing the world. The least I could do at this point was to protect myself, by not getting fired. These stacks were going to be a delight. ¡ª------ However, by the end of the day I couldn¡¯t hold myself back any longer so I did what any decent person would do, confront the core of the issue, by storming into Bram¡¯s office. More accurately, quickly pulling open his door and quietly shutting it behind me. ¡°If the first woman to go to space can receive praise for something that''s supposedly a ¡®man''s job¡¯ then why is it so impossible for you, to accept the fact that a woman can just as comfortably work in an office?¡± ¡°Valentina Tereshkova didn¡¯t receive that applause, the Soviet Union did for successfully sending one of you incompetent human beings into space,¡± Bram responded, not even bothering to look up. ¡°Hey, we¡¯re not incompetent. Also no, they applaud- Oh how great, you''re actually right,¡± I responded with clear disdain filling my words. ¡°Don¡¯t sound so surprised,¡± he responded. ¡°Why? Does it hurt your-¡± ¡°Don¡¯t finish that sentence. Get out, before I tell the boss about this fantastic meeting.¡± Laced with annoyance I said, ¡°And I¡¯ll tell him that caramel yoghurt increases the rate of ant infestation.¡± ¡°Ann. Get Out!¡± At that I left without causing further conflict. Lucky for Bram, I didn¡¯t see him again by the time I packed up and headed home for the day. Walking along the hushed lapping of the Sambre river I could just spot the crimson red walls and spiteful pink window banks of the apartment I stayed in, but I wasn¡¯t heading home, I took a sharp right turn, heading for central Namur.
Chapter 2 Chapter 2 The tangy sweet aroma of sour chervil bagels intensified my hunger, the moment I entered through the glassy cobblestone bricked layered road, near a local bakery. A quiet alternative path to the busy township of Namur. This was the path I usually took, the others were lined with cars and water showers as tires met puddles. This walk didn¡¯t have space for cars, it was almost perfect for pedestrians but halfway up the lane there¡¯s a strange Brink pink stone wall. Its build cut the pathway in half and originally, it was meant to connect the opposing buildings. However the owner passed away before its completion and his son and daughter, as the inheritors refused to complete the bridge, nor could they agree to knock it down. At the moment it lay in rubble, as for the silence, climbing over the wall was a challenge for walkers with bags, dresses and bicycles, they didn¡¯t use this path. It¡¯s highly conventional in my case for it''s the shortest path from my work to my favourite lunch place. Airway Bakery. Suddenly I was crashing and rolling onto the floor, I started laughing, don¡¯t let my reaction fool you, it hurt a lot. Swiftly clambering back onto my feet I searched for the collision and was met with a concerned face. The face looked vaguely familiar, however that concern, it wasn¡¯t for me, it was for the apples now bouncing across the ground. I must have crashed into him but that can¡¯t be right. I hadn''t seen anyone in front of me, had he been behind me? He must have been, and are those heavy breathes? He must have been running too. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ll help you clean up,¡± stretching to lift up a granny smith apple. My arm was violently yanked left. The man had a powerful grip, I started struggling and tugging enough to agaite so he let go and stated, ¡°Leave it there.¡± ¡°But I can help-¡± I tried to protest. ¡°Just leave it!¡± Shrugging I turned my back on the man to continue forward but I couldn¡¯t help but wonder where I¡¯d once seen him before. With my mind in such a gutter I ended up walking past the bakery into the heart of the city. Where stores lined every front and stalls fought for attention in the sun baked square. This afternoon the clothes stores and jewellery stalls bathed in popularity, with the gift stores floundering. Usually the gift store flooded as Central Numur had a much larger flock of tourists on the daily to the ratio of locals, but today the locals were celebrating a story of their own. One with fashion involved as ¡®Tienda de vestido elegante¡¯ racked up an audience to remember. I had no business here, so I turned back to the intended destination. Wisps of conversation laced with tones of stress filled my ears. I zipped past a crowd of local bird watchers and brag stifled elders, into an airy bakery. There was a queue and plenty of chittering, albeit I was hoping to pass through the back. ¡°?Hola Mercela!¡± Mercela was the life source of this bakery, she¡¯d mastered all the recipes in a matter of months and had begun to develop them the way I now knew and loved. Even after expressing over and over again how she wished to open her own restaurant it never happened. It was fear that kept her here, either that of failure or fear that success might make her situation complicated if not rather stressful, a pressure most couldn¡¯t handle. Mercela could, if she put her mind to it, however her stiff devotion to the owner of this bakery kept her locked in position.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°Oh! You¡¯re later than usual, lucky for you Vernan isn¡¯t here, you can walk through,¡± she responded. Vernan owned the bakery, although he rarely spent his time here, he¡¯d occasionally pop in around noon. The guy couldn¡¯t cook or bake but he liked to claim that he¡¯d created the recipes served in the store. We all know it¡¯s from his grandmother''s cookbook, and some of the newer delicacies were Mercela¡¯s own. ¡°Thank you!¡± I responded before crossing through the floppy oak panels into the kitchen beyond. ¡°Hey, take a break, I can take over here,¡± I said to a young woman who I¡¯d guess was around my age. She¡¯d been kneading a lumpy mass of bread dough. She nodded in thanks before heading off towards a sort of break room area to the right of the store. As she passed through the door, she beckoned someone within the room in my direction. In a loud progression a grin of a fiend popped out around the door. The newcomer had blank hazel hair like shards of glass, and eyes gleamed an emerald slice similar to a stalking cat¡¯s. ¡°Anathe! I feared you wouldn¡¯t show up today!¡± the grin changed to a frown, ¡°What''s with the streaky vibe spinning from you today?¡± This is my friend Zarith, or as I refer to her, The Sharp Scented One. We met when I moved to Namur, about a year ago. I''d visited this bakery during my first afternoon and swiftly grew to love the delicacies. Zari began to speak with me after the first week when she grew curious about the stories of a newcomer that consumed bagels by the minute. That¡¯d began to bond over edibles and slowly befriended each other, through conservations about choices of careers, and personal impressions of insight to world views. ¡°I¡¯d love to tell you once I have my chervil bagels within arms reach,¡± I responded. Zari¡¯s grin returned as she went to retrieve a brown paper bag resting in a compacted metal box, built to store heat. ¡°Would you like ice coffee with that, my valued customer?¡± she asked, eyes sparking. ¡°Always!¡± I said laughing. ¡°Well, what''s been nagging?¡± Zari asked as she settled down across from me, sliding the bagels and coffee over the table. I handed the bread dough over to an awaiting baker and sprang into the contents of my morning. ¡°Bram never seizes to surprise me,¡± Zari laughed, ¡°Oh I almost forgot! I got you something.¡± Zari spun on her toes, stretched high and tall and just narrowly snagged a honey lemon toned envelope off the shelf, above a flour painted birch table. She handed it to me. Frowning, I tore it open, inside was an invitation to a party. To the party. ¡°The Trogen Ball?! Isn¡¯t this your invite? Why would you give this to me? The party is tonight¡­ You don¡¯t wish to go?¡± fumbled Ann. ¡°I can¡¯t make it. My mother is sick, I¡¯m travelling to France tonight to stay there for a while, I¡­ I need to be there for her. I haven¡¯t¡­ I didn¡¯t, I just have to be there,¡± Zari said, water building under her eyelashes. Zarith had run away from home when she was fifteen, it''s been seven years since she last saw her family. I know she fled due to abuse but right now she was too blinded by guilt to even think back on it. This was bound to be a difficult reunion, one that would either end in absolve or belief in culpable. The latter had already begun to build its base in Zari¡¯s heart. I jumped up and wrapped my arms around Zari, ¡°I understand, please go visit her, and thank you. For the invitation, and for telling me, and.. for being here for me.¡± It may or may not be true that both of us began to cry right in that kitchen over a flour powered workbench, that was a little bit too unpleasant to clean up. Upon exiting the bakery I paid my bill and turned back towards the Sambre, turns out I was going to head home earlier than I¡¯d been hoping after all.
Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Greeted by the lush mint splashed walls, almond scented candles and grated granite grey slabs under my feet I waltzed into my apartment. Its walls ranked high, the space scarcely adorned with furniture. Although this city is valued for its beauty, apartments were cheap to maintain. The lack of attention towards reinforcing strength to the army sanctions, racked the zone as a possible target during wars, many took great precautions to avoid living in the city. It''s been eighteen years since Germany¡¯s surrender during the second world war. Eighteen years in which this city has been recovering from the aftermath of the Siege of Namur 1914, when German took a victory home with the takeover of Delwiche on the 25 of August. Delwiche, as the city had been named before, all though no one really knows whether the name is meant to end with an ¡®e¡¯ or no ''e¡¯. Delwich. It had only been officially named Namur in 1962. Residents in Namur had been forced to join the Nazis, most tried to flee and paid with their lives and that¡¯s what the Namur population would have preferred. Germany hadn¡¯t tried to take over any land past Namur for many years, but on the 28 of May 1940 Germany began its invasion to take occupation over the entire Belgium. New news sprung up that the Germans were going to attack again if the Belgium tried to resist, so my father and around a thousand others walked to the Nazis to join their armies in the hopes it would be enough to keep them at bay. No one in Namur had seen it as bravery though, they saw it as treason and a mockery of our country''s strength. Although we could argue that losing control of the country was a lack of strength. My father hadn¡¯t been one for war, he was reluctant but amenably he joined the army to protect his family. To protect me. Which didn¡¯t help the heartache of losing a father anymore than it already did. After the war ended the Germans responsible tried to hide behind one mask or another, my father must have been one for his was not one of the millions of deaths recorded. Where he¡¯d gone, I didn¡¯t know, no one did, no one believed he was alive either but that hope would flicker a flame in my heart for many years to pass. I moved to Namur once I turned eighteen to work. Our money had begun to dwindle, as we had lived off my fathers money, he¡¯d been a well known, praised entrepreneur in Brussels with plenty of riches. That''s what made his ¡®betrayal¡¯ to his country sting with poison, the older generations still knew his name and some young like Sakria who had spat at her with venom and Bram who swallowed her name like vile in his mouth. The names of those who walked a path of treason had been released in the local news, a name like her father¡¯s was difficult to forget and sometimes by passers connected the dots for her name was Ann Stromun. My father disappeared before I was even born, he did know about my mother being pregnant, it was the main reason he had decided to go to war. For the Germans had promised him we wouldn¡¯t be harmed if war came, and so I had little to no personal relations to his actions, but everyone always looked at me as if I had made that decision. Luckily my father left such riches to the family safely signed over to my mother a week in advance when the first news of an attack had reached the harbors. He had owned a few businesses and a complex which we sold to live off. Within the first month of being alone my mother had fallen into a depressive state, we could have both died, on plenty of occasions. It scared me to leave my mother alone in the small township I grew up in, but there was no money left, I had to work. I¡¯ve been sending money home every week and visiting her on my off day, Sunday but all I could hope was that the townsfolk cared enough to check up on her and hopefully motivate her in ways I couldn¡¯t. The first job my father had was at the very same Gesbanosh company although in a different region, which I now worked at, he¡¯d later, when trading stocks for the company went up, bought twenty percent of the business. Those were also the first stocks my mother sold, but his hard work and determination had not gone forgotten and had been the prime reason I managed to get a job there. Although I was currently being paid almost half as much as he had been, and that was years ago. This apartment was one of the few things we hadn¡¯t been able to sell, and had been the apartment my father¡¯s, parents had lived in. After reclaiming Namur the possession and property that survived were given to the children of its past owners, since my father was claimed to be dead, now it was mine. My mother did want to sell it when I turned eighteen and could legally sign the apartment in my name, but I refused to. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The windows overlooked the lapping violet blue river, which sang a salty song as the wind swept past. Setting down the bagels, the sour scent seemed to leer from the empty, oak plated countertop, mocking the chef. I scooped up a handful of dry pellets and listened to the clatter as it fell into a round metal steel bowl, lined with red wood. It belonged to the feline, with long calico fur and piercing spider-like eyes, now running towards me. Bumble my cat, she was a year old, I gladly took the opportunity to adopt her, when I¡¯d moved here alone, for I¡¯d always wanted a cat. On the stooped coffee table lay an unfinished puzzle I¡¯d been working on. The bed in the opposing room, neatly folded and decked however, was the destination I longed for. Carelessly I¡¯m drawn to wandering into the room, hanging the bag, formally wrapped across my chest, upon a little metallic nail slammed into a dark and chalk splattered wall. Notes scribbled from the corner to the edge, birthday¡¯s, a couple of grocery lists and little bits of a personality through fashion ideas, crude sketches and cryptic thought patterns. Oblivion had taken my attention long before my body crumpled in a tight bundle, suppressing the creaseless sheets lain on the bed. It was twilight when my stiffen bones protested loudly enough to receive a reaction from my swamped brain. Yanking open my eyes I sluggishly rolled over¡­ and landed on the floor with a sharp thud. It was enough to eliminate excess sleep. The wardrobe door screeched as it opened, and quickly fell shut. I¡¯d turned around again to snatch up a thin purple chalk from the bedside. With my sleeve I rubbed away ¡®cinnamon, pumpkin, butter, 26 September¡¯ soaked in a pink tinted red, and replaced the space with a rather bold ¡®Wardrobe SQUEAK issue.¡¯ This time the wardrobe produced a pair of socks, hills, and something blue wrapped in parchment paper, before swinging shut. A rushed bath, and a manicure session later I found myself staring longingly towards the kitchen and shrugged the feeling, coffee could wait. The parchment paper unraveled revealing an earnest soft and lavished blue dress. Its sleeved rests hung in five draped beaded straps, the collar dropped in an elegant v, with the fabrics chest lined neatly around the waist before dropping into a faerie style tiered skirt. It was beautiful. To tell the truth I hadn¡¯t opened this package since picking it up at the post office a week ago. It had torn to reveal the blue, and I knew it was a dress, but the sender had been stamped anonymous, it irked me enough to ignore it. Not today though, I didn¡¯t have a dress fit for the occasion, and this random package had earned a high expectation. Slipping on the dress, however snuggly fit, it unnerved to think of who sent it. The dress highlighted her already crystal deep eyes, and wavy red hair, complimenting her baby blue painted nails, but it was missing something. Picking up the parchment it felt oddly heavy, tilting the bag a necklace rolled out. A gold necklace. Lined with shells. I let out a shaky breath, not wise crying after makeup. The necklace was perfect, the missing element, but I didn¡¯t like it. It made me feel rich, which wasn¡¯t true, it felt like a lie, a mock, of what could have been. It had to go back to the owner. If I could find them¡­ This was one of the exclusive parties of the year, it felt like I was invading something I wasn¡¯t really a part of. Never mind the fact that the last time I¡¯d been to a party I threw up, due to my intolerance to alcohol, it was not fun. I ended up drinking too much because of my anxiety to talk to new people. Not that it helped much, I ended up talking on and on about my cat. Taking the tram to the ball had seemed like a wise decision but in thought, I didn¡¯t expect to be the only passenger riding towards Chateau Miranda (the Noisy Castle). It did make sense for the tram to be empty for most hoped to arrive in a luxury sports car on an evening like this, but It left too much space for thought. One highest on the list was whether the anonymous could be at the ball, and that alone sent her into an uncomfortable anticipation. Unfortunately the driver didn¡¯t speak. I felt rather isolated, which brought up the thought, how did the tram driver get home if he didn¡¯t live near a station nor owned a car? Would his shift end for him to become the passenger as the next driver took over? ¡ª------- Within seconds it was clear the dark gloom ahead hadn¡¯t dotted a certain spot. The mass of colourful light from the massive cobble structure lined her vision as the tram edged nearer. It felt as if a bubble had popped when voices greeted her peaceful silence. So many voices, so many cars, so many dresses and suits and laughter. This was the biggest event of the year, of any year she had to remind herself. That did nothing to stop the anxiety of build up as she slipped off the tram, swallowed by shadows, she was hidden from sight. There was still time to run, maybe parties just weren''t for her, after all no one had seen her yet, or so she had thought. She froze at the sound of snapping twigs, under feet approaching behind me.
Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Soundless laughter rumbled in greeting. Ann spun around to a shaded face. Hadn¡¯t the figure begun speaking, she would have ended this in contour in regret. ¡°Oh dear, why are you wearing socks with those hills?¡± Ann blinked into focus, she was looking at an ebony spotted coat, balanced with a plain shirt, and a glum tie. However, her vision snagged at the pink and pineapple shoes. She didn¡¯t have a response to the socks. ¡°An interesting fashion statement I suppose,¡± the figure continued, his face exploding with color as he stepped towards her, moving into light. Ann blinked, she knew this man. ¡°What, say, are you doing this far from the party?¡± she asked. ¡°You¡¯re not one for small talk, I forget. Alas, I was waiting for someone,¡± he remained still. ¡°Sorry to disappoint but I do not believe anyone else is planning to appear out here,¡± she said. He only laughed, ¡°You did.¡± Ann frowned, before blandly responding ¡°Enjoy the party.¡± She left without looking back, passing tree lined lanes. She was thinking about how that man could have left the clearing with a rather festive scarlet mark strawn across his face, maybe the size of her hill¡¯s flat, had she acted in defense rather than confusion. His name was Alec Vonstone I recall. He¡¯s the same person from the alley, with the apples, and the mess. He¡¯d also passed through the Gesbanosh office once or twice, for that coat I would never forget. I think he worked for the government, or with them, or completely apart from them, I¡¯m uncertain, but I heard about it a few months ago. I¡¯m sure I could ask around the office though, his name was always jumping around¡­ The thought was lost once I reached the first spawn plane heading towards the ball. Instantly I was swamped by the noise, and the exotic fashion sense. Even in the dark, Chateau Miranda was a beauty of its own galaxy, its size a bewilderment and design one of which any royal golden spaniel could dream for their personal hall of chewed up tennis balls. One of which a springer spaniel could trample in one bounded sprint. There had to be at least a thousand guests here waiting to enter the grand fiesta, I didn¡¯t even know where to begin. Was Sakria here? Bram was certainly here, he wouldn''t miss this evening even for a promotion to ¡®his royal highness¡¯, a position granting its owner the power to a private bathroom¡­ with a bath and cinnamon soaps¡­ at work. The tradition was a strange one, it was cherished though, for its position emerged because of an American article about ¡®Trade Unions¡¯ and increase in productivity after the installation of showers in the work space gym. ¡®There''s luxury bathrooms in the upper office building¡¯, thought the boss, and it certainly paid off. The thought of just walking up to a stranger and starting a conversation did cross my mind, how would I introduce myself though? Certainly not as Ann Stromun. ¡®Ann¡¯ doesn¡¯t leave much context, as much as it didn¡¯t leave much imprint on who I really am like. ¡°Hey! You didn¡¯t happen to see Alec did you? Tall guy, blue hair, amber eyes, unbelievably rhythmic gait?¡± the voice sprung on me just as the girl did. Oh right, Alec. ¡°I saw him,¡± I responded carefully, I didn¡¯t know who this was, who she worked for and if she knew Alec¡­ I barely have any indication of a clear picture of his role out here. This, it would have to play out mildly. ¡°Is he still out there? Goodness I shouldn¡¯t have left him alone. Did he seem stressed, or hurt, or angry?¡± The words were polished in such stress it was quite possible this girl would babble on much longer than she would dare searching for Alec in the woods. I responded, ¡±He seemed alright, calm even.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. This triggered another spasm of stress, ¡°What is he doing?¡± ¡°Smoking starlight?¡± I shrugged. ¡°He''s smoking! That-¡± So much for being mild, I really owed to keep my mouth shut. ¡°No, he¡¯s not smoking although he seemed a bit¡­ tipsy,¡± luckily I was saved by Alec¡¯s reappearance. I nodded my head in his direction before turning around to head back into the crowd. Alec wasn¡¯t someone I was hoping to speak to again, I couldn¡¯t get a single read off of his character and that unnerved me, even scared me. In most cases I could at least sense a person''s intention towards me, during a conversation, in that given moment, he was just¡­ a blank. In not too much time I was herded into the castle, if I thought outside was breathtaking then I was now sorely mistaken. The first room had dooms of diamonds etched in navy and gold. Peonies and lavenders that longed towards the roof leaving soft, cushion petals in their wake. Beams and arches freshly painted, displaying a silver road of stairs heading to rooms I could only wish to explore. The ball took place in a room of similar enchantment, although its roof bloomed like roses under the horizon. Like paid actors the stage was set alight, with clothes of flames, and movements like a tiger''s descendant into the grass stalks of the plains. The dancing, so natural to the guests, an introduction unnecessary, it was lifeful and loud and increasingly difficult to navigate. Unless I joined the dance, like a water drop heading towards a stream, but I would describe this next encounter as the opposite. Like water being uprooted from the earth, into the clouds to be moved where I was needed more, for this meeting would change the course of my future and not by choice. ¡°Hi there, you seem lost.¡± The speaker was a lime haired boy with icy orange slush eyes. His suit caught my eyes though, it was definitely expensive. Startled, I looked up, he was Orion Lamrox, the mayor¡¯s son. My eyes met with a different pumpkin splashed eye palette, not Orion¡¯s, it could only be his father¡¯s Felix. The mayor, ¡°Is this the young lady you were speaking of?¡± he asked, it wasn¡¯t quite prejudice, though his voice was stained in confusion. ¡°No, of course not, we just met,¡± responded Orion, he seemed just as confused as his father. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± this question was directed at me, though it was a wonder I could hear his hushed voice amongst the anguish. Even if one might argue that fairy music healed the soul. ¡°My name? It¡¯s Ann,¡± I was desperately trying to avoid my surname, especially now with the mayor and his son as witnesses. ¡°Ann who?¡± the mayor threaded. ¡°Ann the clerk! For the logistics sector,¡± I could already feel my argument sway. ¡°I want to know your family name,¡± he said with a demand I couldn¡¯t ignore. ¡°Stromun,¡± I said quietly, hoping to pass as a mutter of sound to their ears. I was unsuccessful because the mayor''s eyes widened just a fraction, but such history was in the past, it couldn¡¯t affect me now. Could it? ¡°Nice to meet,¡± nodded Orion, he was unfazed by the name drop, he didn¡¯t recognize it. ¡°We¡¯ll be off,¡± the mayor nodded before guiding Orion away. They believed I was out of ear shot, but I didn¡¯t miss the mayor''s hidden agenda in his words to Orion, ¡®Befriend that girl.¡¯ This was bound to be one of the more interesting attempts of ¡®peaceful¡¯ spectators to see whether I had a hidden agenda of my own. One of the onlookers that had been watching the mayor turned to look in my direction, a grin plastering his face. He must have overheard the same words I did. Precisely, he was wading his way towards me, the grin widening as my frown deepened. ¡°So you¡¯ve met Orion,¡± he stated smugly, ¡°Do you¡­like him?¡± Sighing, I said, ¡°Am I supposed to? Wait, sorry, forget I said that. What I mean is, I don¡¯t know him so I can¡¯t tell you that yet.¡± Luckily he wasn¡¯t upset, no, he looked like he was trying his best not to start laughing. ¡°Yet?¡± he ventured. ¡°You heard what I did,¡± I cleared. ¡°Correct, but I want to know why the mayor would want his son hanging out with you,¡± he responded gingerly. ¡°Jealousy doesn¡¯t suit you,¡± it was my turn to grin, ¡°What¡¯s your status then?¡± ¡°Is that your coy way to ask for my name and landline number?¡± he asked, my expression didn¡¯t budge, ¡°I¡¯m Bayley Floren. You might know my apartment building, ¡®Floure Quality¡¯ or my infuriating sister¡¯s building-¡± he was saying before I cut him off. ¡°Ohhh! The brick wall crisis siblings! You know, the wall in the middle of the path that blocks the way to the best bakery- Never mind you guys are great,¡± I said, Bayley looked more revolved by my act to cut in then he did about my statement. ¡°Right. Enjoy your evening I¡¯m heading back into the party, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll meet again soon,¡± he said before sinking like butter back into the crowd. Fishing a drink off a passing tray, I took it slowly before heading into the dance myself, thinking could wait. It felt like I¡¯d been handed a new sheet of music notes that I¡¯d be expected to perform within the next month. A lot was happening, too fast and it didn¡¯t feel like any coincidence.
Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Everything was spinning, from colors from ivy to ebony, that seemed to eat at my vision. My feet felt light, I could barely recognize my stagger. A sky of fire swung in front of me as a red velvet scent descended, I could sense a hand make contact with my shoulder, "Hey there friend, how many drinks did you have?" it was Sakria. "YoU lOoK liKe a CraTe of BuRning GolD. Oh, drinks? I had two cups," I think I''m drunk. Or dead. "What? Really? Okay we''re going to get you home. I would like to compliment this dress though, we''re did you get it?" asked Sakria. "Um.. from the post office for a euro?" I responded. Sakria passed me a glass filled with what I hoped was just water. Before sipping I did stop myself, "This is water?" "Yes." That was answer enough, the water was gone in a heartbeat as I weaved through the field of what looked like blossoms in the wind. I followed the fire out the party where we stopped before an opaque car. In the pause I looked towards where Sakria was unlocking the front door, "How do I know you aren''t kidnapping me?" I think I could distinctly hear laughter, "Well, if you die, know that you deserved it for being so careless." Feeling ready to throw up, I climbed in the back of Sakria''s car. I must have passed out because when I drew back in consciousness, I was hearing yelling. "Wake up! I''m not carrying you up those stairs. I swear I will leave you on the side of the road!" Sakria was yelling. Sakria, although the words were meant to threaten, they didn''t carry much anger, instead there was concern and worry in her tone. Once my eyes blinked open she stopped yelling, "Help me stand up?" I asked weakened. Sakria grabbed my arm and yanked me out the car, I stumbled over my feet once I landed, on the hills, flat on the street. We crossed into the apartment foyer and slowly ascended the flight of stairs, "I just wanted to say thank you, I don''t know how I would have gotten home, if you didn''t step in," I said. "Please, please just be careful next time. I noticed your friend Zarith wasn''t here with you and I got worried. If I didn''t find you first you do realize any random guy could have taken advantage of you in this state. So please, if you''re feeling anxious or stressed, think it through first, and go easy on the vodka," Sakria said. "That was vodka?!" I asked drowsily. Sakria was trying to hold back her laugh, which didn''t seem to have worked out, "You better not go anywhere like that alone, if Zarith isn''t with you and you feel vulnerable, you can come knock on my I''ll be glad to tag along. I don''t trust you not to get yourself killed after this." That was an understatement, and one I would soon come to regret not following more often. With a slow nod for acknowledgement I racked over to hug Sakria, who fell limp in my embrace. Realizing with shame how rarely I gave her a hug, it was quite possibly a rare thing for Sakria to receive as a whole. I would make it my mission to ensure that she never left the office without at least a hug and always a chocolate chip cookie, one of my favorite delicacies to bake. After pumpkin pie. "I owe you more than a just a cake, but I could start by baking you your favorite red velvet cake?" I was asking while unlocking my door.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. "Hmm tempting, if you can get me that cake baked by Sunday morning you''ll be halfway out of debt," she said as her farewell and turned back to wander down the stairs. Letting out a deep breath I headed to sleep, now sober enough to feel the painful spasms coming from my head. ¡ª-------- Awoken by the sounds of banging against a wall, or maybe a door, it could have been a hallucination but sobriety should have taken full effect by now. It was when the banging quieted and slowed when it began to sound like a knock upon a door. A knock.. But it was still dark outside, who could be out there? "Hello?" came a male''s voice from the front door, the knock grew louder again, "Hello?" it sounded more like a plea than a question, should the call go ignored? Something was nagging to go and look, but when could such a voice be trusted? Sluggishly I climbed out of bed, stumbling over legs and toes in a progression towards the door. Stopping before the door that separates me from the stranger I asked, "Who''s there?" The male let loose what sounded like a cry, "Ann. I need your help, it''s your neighbor, Gelric." Gelric? He lived in the apartment across from my own, but we''ve never spoken before, "What''s wrong?" "I''m in danger! Please help me," he replied. "In danger, how?" I was more than just a little bit confused. "I''m being targeted for assassination as we speak and I hope you can help, please hurry," he said in an urgence that dismissed any suspicions of a deception. "Why are you under threat of assassination-" I tried to ask. "We don''t have time for that! Will you help me or not?" he hissed. "I''ll- I''ll help you, what can I do?" I opened the door to see Gelric, his face was bloodless, he looked terrified, "Wait. I need to throw up," sprinting to my bathroom. I made it in time to dispose of the liquor contents from the ball. Walking back out Gelric was frowning, "You are drunk. On this evening." He wasn''t angry towards me specifically, but he seemed to have lost a fraction of hope. Across the hall I froze as the reality of what Gelric had said sunk in, "Are the blinds in your apartment all shut?" I asked nervously. "Yes, but be quiet." We walked into the apartment not risking the usage of lights, as I took in the surroundings it was a duplicate of mine. "Do you want me to help you run away or¡­?" hopefully he wasn''t expecting me to take a death shot for him, "How do you even know about this assassination? Assassins don''t walk up to people and say, ''Hey heads up I''m about to murder you." Gelric looked like he was trying to keep himself from punching through a wall, "I know about this because I stood and watched as the last target bled to death from a bullet wound through his head. He was murdered, from something that wasn''t even his fault! It was all mine¡­ he was my only brother, now I am the target and I hope you can help me distract that assassin because I would have entrusted my life to your father if he were here, however I think you have the qualities to help me too." "I''m sorry about your brother, that''s awful, but I hope you aren''t hoping that I''ll help you murder this assassin. How do you know my father? Plus how do you expect me to help distract-" my eyes must have widened to the size of ring donuts. I practically ran to Gelric''s bathroom. There were no blinds here, "I know how we''re going to prevent your murder," I said with a grin. Flipping open the cabinet that hung above the sink I looked at the glass then the steel behind it, slightly knocking my hand against it. "I''m willing to bet your life that the steel on the back of this mirror is enough to at least redirect a bullet. Do you have a string? It''s going to be attached to the handle, where I can pull it open from outside the room. The assassin is waiting for the right moment to strike, when you switch on your bathroom light and walk into a room unprotected by blinds the bullet will fly. I will pull the mirror open just when your about to walk in to protect your head. The moment you hear a bullet hit, fall to the ground and don''t move. I can then set up the distractions while I wait for the assassin to cross over and collect your body. When I give you the signal run. Grab your bags and run, there is no time to waste in your life for revenge, the results aren''t worth it, it won''t bring him back. Just get out while you can, leave Belgium, change your name and don''t come back." Gelric looked guilty but I think the words sunk in, "I wish you luck once I am gone, take this." Gelric handed over a small sheet of paper, I couldn''t open it yet so I slid it in my socks, I also realized I was still wearing the dress. I nodded my thanks before we got to work. ¡ª------- The plan worked! The bullet clattered to the ground as Gelric fell flat, he wasn''t dead, there was no blood. He was still breathing even if he looked paler than a ghost. My limbs were shaking too, I just put my neighbors life at risk based on an untested theory. Should I be thankful he lived or ashamed he could have lost his life if I was wrong? Chapter 6 Chapter 6 ¡°Do you still have that tube of chloroform?¡± I whispered to Gelric. Every ex-Nazis was given a sample of chloroform in the case that if they were caught, that any inkling of the secrets they knew could disappear with their loss of life when the chloroform was injected into the blood stream. He only pointed towards a badly fitted floor panel since he was paralyzed to the spot, he couldn¡¯t stand up. I shuffled over to the wooden platform, removed the lid and found what I supposed was his escape bag. Ruffling through the smallest pocket it didn¡¯t take long to find what I¡¯d been hoping for. The bag slid soundless across the ground until it knocked into Gelric¡¯s leg. A window had been left open near the fire escape, it was meant to be a convenient escape for Gelric but now it was a weakness. One I could exploit to my own advantage if I played my cards right because now I knew with certainty how the assassin would enter the apartment. ¡ª------- Waiting in between the cover of the curtain film, footsteps light and almost excused as windswept erosion, made their approach. Listening, rusted hinges were raised, a misplaced shadow popped up beside me, and that''s when I strike. I punched a syringe into the intruder''s face mask. The liquid solution of chloroform was now seeping through the material around their mouth and nose, soon they would be unconscious. The figure stumbled back caught by surprise, they weren¡¯t aware of what had happened. Advancing again they fell into my trap, a blunder on their side as the window, pulled back closed, now flew into their face. The impact caused an outcry of pain, I must have smashed the assassins nose, trying to feel their face the assassin didn¡¯t see where they were reversing towards. They tumbled and crashed down the first flight of stairs, crashing in a heap against the protective fence. Feeling horrible for the responsibility I held for the assassin''s current state I couldn¡¯t bear to watch any longer. Whistling softly the signal for my neighbor went up, though I could go and say my goodbye¡¯s I¡¯d rather not, hopeful he would do the wise thing and not ever try to return to this city again. When the sound of the front door closing had passed I finally took in an ice cream tub worth of air. Glancing out the window, I checked to see the assassin who remained unconscious, at least I hope that was all that had happened. Feeling as if a whale had crawled onto my shoulders I trailed back to my bed, heavy. Since now the reality from the previous evening, would have to be the act I maintain to protect myself from suspicion. I would continue to act like the careless drunk girl, who everyone assumed thought of working to become an independent woman was only a hopeless trend. ¡ª-------- ¡°There¡¯s no space in this office for hungover children!¡± was the last thing I remember hearing before having dozed off for the third time that morning. As pitiful as the site was, they wouldn''t fire me over it, I still got more work done after a week than seventy percent of the office, and that included the daisy days like this one. ¡°I need.. Coffee,¡± I was mumbling but really my stomach was thinking about food, the last full meal¡­ I could barely remember it. ¡°Caffeine addicted, mind helping me here?¡± asked Samari slowly, as if I might pass out if she spoke too fast. Rolling up my head I glanced in her direction, it worked as well as a thumbs up. ¡°So I¡¯m filling in this form for a lease, and here it asks me to cross a box for the type of business. I crossed the box for sole trade, but here it asks again what type of business it is?¡± she asked, this had nothing to do with work, but Samari works almost as fast as I do. She started working here about two months ago, we¡¯re both clerks and neither of us are bound to move up in the company. Both young, and quite neive, both of us dreamt of the future. One of independence and acceptance, and for the views of the past, to stay in the past. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. If I was an idealist, believe me, Samari was the radio toned up, but her fatal flaw was believing that the moment she married, that she would be selfish to not throw away every scrap of her independence. The timer to marry before turning twenty-five had never stopped its brewing of an unforgivable storm of thunder and smoke wherever Samari went. ¡°That business type is asking the purpose of the business. Is it a non-profit business, or a commercial business?¡± I answered, wondering if Samari was talking about opening her own business. Returning back to work, a report about an accidental home fire, greeted a ear strum of agony. The owner of the home received second degree burns across his right arm, and third degrees on his legs. It also stated that the injuries were covered by the medical aid, but no insurance was paid out. The house did not have a fire alarm installed, insurance won¡¯t help, this was completely the owner''s liability. Stamp. Read, ignored and forgotten this file would be. That reminded me of something¡­ Gelric! He gave me a crinkly paper yesterday! It had been packed over into my work folder, but I haven¡¯t read it yet. Grabbing a lilac green case, I unclipped the front and searched for the ¡®others¡¯ label. The paper was hidden under scraps, sketches and lists but it was there. On the inside were four names. Baryn Ashwend Gelric Ashwend Ludwig Franklin Harren Barkig Could Baryn be Gelric¡¯s dead brother? Was this an assassination target list? There was something familiar about the surnames though, but I couldn¡¯t quite place it. If the assassinations were to occur in this order, was there a chance for me to able to help the other targets as well? Even if I could find these people, how would I even be able to approach such a topic and still manage to avoid their deaths? ¡°Are you alright after yesterday?¡± recoiling in surprise, I crumpled the paper under my finger tips before seeing Sakria. There was worry inked across her brow and now surprise stained her ember eyes as she glanced at my hand. ¡°Tired, but I slept¡­ well. I actually brought you something from home,¡± I responded, ruffling under my desk. I dropped the paper and emerged with a brown box. Sakria frowned, looked at me, then shrugged as she tore open the box, her eyes widened as she saw what was contained inside. ¡°Is this an Astro lamp?¡± shock edged her face. Nodding, we stared at the lamp, it was designed to heat up wax from the base of the water, and melt it to allow the wax to float up, before cooling and sinking again, leaving a magma satisfaction gleaming in vision, meditative or addictive to watch. ¡°When did you get this?¡± she asked, excitement edging her tone. ¡°A few days ago, it was meant to be your birthday present but I believe it to be a better suit for today,¡± I responded but Sakria had already plugged in the lamp. She was currently engulfed in awe, I was too, but eventually we got up in search of food. Until something caught my eye. Pinned against the bottom of the wall titled ¡®What not to look up to¡¯ was the newspaper article with over one hundred names on just the first page. It was the ex-Nazis list, and the surname ¡®Ashwend¡¯ was on the list. It was one of the earlier names inked upon the paper, it paused me right in my tracks. Approaching the wall I unpinned the paper and started flipping through it, sure enough I found what I was looking for, ¡®Ludwig Franklin¡¯ and ¡®Harren Barig.¡¯ The list of targets are all ex-Nazis! My father¡­ what if he hadn¡¯t died during the war, what if he was really assassinated. Maybe even possible, he was still alive, no wonder the ex-Nazis went into hidden, but why now? It''s been eighteen years since the end of the war, why were they being hunted now? ¡°Everything alright?¡± asked Sakria, who had turned to see what had caused my stop. Nodding, I said, ¡°My neighbor didn¡¯t leave his apartment this morning, when I asked the lady who he usually walked to work with she shrugged and used his full name within her sentence. Gelric Ashwend. He never told me his surname, and with good reason, I didn¡¯t know he was an ex-Nazis, he might have even known my father.¡± Sakria merely laughed, ¡°I didn¡¯t know Ashwend was in the back of the alphabet. It¡¯s alright, I know you were looking at your fathers name again, page eight.¡± I stiffened before nodding, face contouring for a man I¡¯ve never met. Jolted from self pity Samaria approached. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for my part in the rumors that spread about you yesterday,¡± she said. She didn¡¯t look sorry, frowning I turned to look at Sakria, I asked ¡°What did you say to her?¡± Sakria smugly answered directly to Samaria, ¡°I take it you found the gift?¡± Samaria grimaced, ¡°It was¡­ an excellent gift.¡± The rotten potatoes, suddenly I was feeling bad for her. ¡°I¡¯ll have a better gift the next time, one I¡¯m sure will meet your taste,¡± Sakria responded, this made Samaria shrink away, even her hills had gone silent. My lunch tasted like brick wrap and felt like a far off nap. Wait, I¡¯m speaking of my brain, that¡¯s the one far off on a nap one. It was cycling through everything that had happened on repeat as if I was paying it to sing a song for the retake of this particular scene, but there was enough sense in my head to know that the first place I was going to search for answers was Biblioth¨¨que communale de Namur library.