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Description
Don't play with demons; demons always take the strongest ones ...

You better not play with your demons...

I stayed three winters in Naxos. The third was almost the last of my life.

But, fortunately, I am a weak character, timid and excessively procrastinating.

I write "fortunately", because you may know that demons always take the strongest.

The winters on the island were completely different from the summers. Especially for foreigners. The natives had their nice houses and relatives, they had television and fields.

We, the foreigners, stayed in empty rooms. We didn't care about the summer. Lots of work, lots of fun, sea, tourists from all over the world. We usually didn't catch everything.

To work, to take baths, to go out at night and exchange liquids with women - or men - from around the world. But in the winter the island was empty, as were our rooms.

The locals hung out with the locals, the appointed professors only with their class.

The "emigres", summer workers from all over the world who didn't leave, Greeks, Albanians, French, Germans and Poles, we were forced to spend our nights in a bar owned by V (V for Victoria), from ' Belgium.

In the first winter there was a certain charm to the whole situation. We played the guitar (that's where I first heard Ne me quitte pas, sung by a Frenchman from Toulouse), we exchanged bitterness about our countries, we drank until we passed out and sometimes we went to the room to made sex - libertarian and somewhat cold.

The second winter we were again the same people, twenty in a quorum, and we did exactly the same (I heard ne me quitte pas another forty times from Xavier). The necessary swinging was done to broaden our sexual horizons, but still there weren't many of us. By April we had all done it with everyone else, like we were a perverted family. My third winter on the island, and at Vi's bar, found me bored.

I didn't want to hear ne me quitte pas again, nor to have sex with Xavier's wife (who was also twenty years older than me, at forty-seven) again. We had to find something new to chew through the months until the vernal equinox.

The solution was found by Dieter, a forty-year-old German who worked as a caretaker in a hotel, and had been on the island for more years than me.

One night when we were really bored Dieter asked us if we wanted to do something "different" that night. There were four men and three women sitting at the bar. Me, Dieter, Xavier (the Frenchman with the mustache that reminded me of Dali), and Chaim who was Israeli and in the summers made the statue on the beach.

As for the women, we had Xavier's wife, Patricia, with the magnificent breasts, so full that many twenty-year-old women would envy them. Tina from Serbia - who was doing portraits in the summer, and Desiree, a white South African, a former English teacher in her country - was making ceramics on the island.

We all interpreted Dieter's "something different" as another orgy. More or less, in various combinations, we had all fucked with everyone. So it didn't seem like an interesting proposition to us. These excesses only bring fatigue in the end.

But he opened his backpack and left the Necronomicon on the bar...

"How about summoning demons?" he said softly, as if afraid of being overheard outside.

We started laughing and telling sex jokes about the "demons" we hide in our pants. He had definitely woken up the company, but we all thought it was a game.

"I already made an appeal to the demon," Dieter said.

We looked at him ready to laugh.

"And he came."

Something in his face, something in the way he spoke, scared me. Not just me.

None of the group of émigrés said anything funny.

“My grandmother,” said Tina, “told me you could summon demons. They had her as a witch in the village."

"I did that with the three candles on the mirror," Dieter said. "You light three candles in front of a mirror, look into it and say the phrases from the book." He downed his beer in one gulp. “The demon appeared behind me, in the mirror. If I went back to look at him I would bring him here. But I was scared. And I blew out the candles."

For a moment no one spoke. Vi, behind the bar, sighed. "I guess that's enough drinking for today," she said. "You escaped again."

We laughed, we forgot for a while, we sang ne me quitte pas again, some grinned, but we couldn't forget what Dieter had said.

A moment later, Break on through was playing at the time, and Morrison was singing about the devil himself, Xavier slammed his hand on the bar and said in drunken Anglo-French: "I say let's do it."

We all understood what he meant.

That's what we've been thinking for a long time. After discussing it with Dieter, the "keycrator", we learned that the best place to summon demons is in graveyards.

In Naxos the cemetery is inside Chora. I don't think there is another place in the world where the dead are buried so close to the living.

The cemetery is between hotels and taverns. Right next door, wall to wall, is a Mexican restaurant. Outside the cemetery door is a kiosk. Opposite a car rental office and a little, ten meters, below, an internet cafe.

It seems as if the dead continue to be a part of the lives of the living. Maybe it is.

Especially after what I saw that winter, I believe it.

That March night, two hours after midnight, seven of us entered the cemetery carrying a mirror and three candles. The mirror was two meters long and another one in height, with smoked glass. Vi had it behind the drinks and we had a hard time getting her to give it to us. But we were her only customers, she couldn't refuse us. I wish she had. We put the mirror on two monuments. One was of a lawyer who had killed himself by falling from Portara. The other of some old woman who just fell. And as is well known, old women are either from falling or being untied...

We all stood in front of him in a row, shoulder to shoulder. Me and Xavier, who were taller, sat a seat behind. Dieter lit the candles and opened the book. "Remember," he told us. "As long as we see him in the mirror it can't bother us. If someone turns around and sees him normally then'' 'Then what?' I asked him. "Let's just say it's better not to happen," Dieter replied. I didn't like his answer at all, but I wanted to continue, because it seemed kind of funny - and scary at the same time, like I was on a roller coaster. .

It was a very quiet night in March. There was no wind at all and the only sound inside the cemetery was Dieter's voice as he read those strange words...

At first we giggled. Xavier was shaking me in the ribs and pinching Desiree's ass. It could have ended like this, but then there was complete silence...

The most complete and terrifying silence I have ever heard...

Because we all saw him appearing behind us, in the mirror...

The demons. Summoning demons...

It sounds so fake, so foreign, until it happens to you...

It's like the car accident. You've been driving for thirty years, you're a careful driver, you've never crashed and everything's fine. But when the truck from the opposite stream comes at you, you don't have time to think about anything, because it's a truck, and it crashes into your seat at 120+120 km .Head-on collision and you barely have time to say "where is this bastard going" before you become one with the sheet metal...

And if the head-on with a truck seems to you a brutal situation, with a lot of blood, then you must find yourself summoning a demon...

The form that began to materialize behind us seemed to be blacker than darkness. Originally it was like a cloud, like a cloud with intelligence, undefined. But then he began to take on a form, human and monstrous at the same time.

He seemed to be two or three meters behind us and was twice the height of any human.

As it formed a foul smell filled the room, like something long dead under your fridge.

He had hands with many fingers, more than five for sure, and very long—maybe they were claws too. He rocked them like a dreaming baby - spasmodically.

The head, its shape, did not resemble a human. Maybe it looked more like a donkey's head, if a donkey can look like a hyena. But it wasn't complete. It seemed to be forming at that moment and it seemed to be in pain, like it was being born. But his eyes were closed.

By this time we were looking at it in the mirror without breathing. I don't know how long this first stage lasted, but I certainly didn't catch my breath.

And then he opened his eyes. They were so beautiful!

Have you ever seen a cobra staring you in the face? Neither did I, but as soon as he opened his eyes I thought exactly that, a cobra. A cobra that hypnotized us through the mirror...

I could have stayed there forever, watching it, whatever it was, whatever hell it came out of...

But then I realized that Patricia had started to turn her head to look back. Her gaze was like a line going towards the demon. Rather like a thread, as soon as she touched him she could come to us. She went over her shoulder, reached Xavier who was sitting on my right, and continued towards the demon...

Then, despite the terror and the blizzard, I did something I certainly didn't think of before.

I lunged forward, pushed Desiree and Tina aside, and struck the candles with both hands. It might have been a split second before Patricia's thread touched the demon. But as soon as the light went out the demon disappeared...

Patricia didn't see anything behind us. I had saved us, but at the time we were too scared to realize it. "What are you doing?" Dieter shouted at me. "Almost"...

“Almost what? Almost what, Dieter? What the hell was that? What the shit'..?

I took a few deep breaths, but it was as if the world had been emptied of air.

"Merde!" Xavier said. Desiree said another word, not English, but from her native Afrikaans. He would explain to us what it meant the next night.

“I'm a little crazy,” I told Dieter, “but this is beyond the levels of insanity I can handle. Do whatever you want to do, but,” I laughed to keep from crying, “don't call me next time.”

I left the cemetery without another word. My room was thirty meters below. I stayed up all night with the lights on.

As soon as it dawned, I took a cold shower and went out to see people. I drank a coffee, I talked to the captain-Georgis, who had brought the morning's fish to the port, and I went to Rendevous, the cafeteria where I had been working since seven o'clock.

I wanted to feel like the world was still normal.

But we choose which sides of the world we want to see. In the evening I went back to Vi's bar, for the last time in my life.

They were all there talking about what we had seen. "Shall I say something?" Vi said at one point. “Know that my drinks are clean. What else you smoke, what else you take, I don't care. But I'm not to blame for the bullshit you're imagining."

But there were too many of us to believe that all that was a figment of our imaginations or hallucinations.

Desiree repeated the word to us: "Indoda." It's some Zulu spirit, from the time before the missionaries and the Bibles, some pagan demon. Circulates at night in the savannah. He seduces animals - and people - with his eyes. When he catches them he rips them out while they're still alive. "It couldn't have been that," Tina said. "This is not Africa. "Right," said Xavier, who was sober, and that rarely happened. "It must have been something from here, Greek or older. Who were here before the Greeks?”, “The Africans?” I told him.

Dieter didn't speak, he just opened the Necronomicon again.

He flipped through the pages, read something, and closed it.

He explained to us, in a few words, something he had not told us before we went to the cemetery.

That the demon that comes with the invocation can find the "hole" inside the mind of one of those who performed the ceremony...

Since those present were from all countries of the world, from many at least, then the demon could also be from everywhere...

That night we didn't play ne me quitte pas.

We were just talking about what had happened - and drinking...

Some, Dieter and Patricia especially, wanted us to repeat it. Chaim thought about it, Xavier would do as his wife told him. Tina would prefer to avoid it. Only Desiree and I were absolutely against such a repetition.

But we didn't understand something...

At that moment, as we were talking, we were exactly the same people as the previous time in the cemetery. We were sitting in front of the same mirror that we had brought back to Vi's bar, and - yes, it was so ridiculous that we didn't realize it - there were lit candles in front of the mirror - reso, for atmosphere...

That night I fought with the émigrés. They told me I was a coward - and I admitted it. I didn't want to, and I don't want to, throw my life away for fun. Maybe I won't live a second one.

As we "talked" about it, with a lot of tension for sure, I was looking in the mirror, behind the blinds...

...And then I saw on the wall where the poster of Jacques Brel in his youth hung, Indoda's eyes appeared, mesmerizing...

I couldn't blow out the candles, they were too far from me.

I just picked up the beer glass and threw it at the mirror...

For a while there was a commotion, but it was of the good kind.

Vi told me I was bullshitting, I gave her the money I had in my pocket and told her I wouldn't go there again. I didn't believe it when I said it, nor when I left banging on the door. But - anyway - I couldn't go again.

When you break a demonic mirror you don't banish the demon. You only multiply it.

The next morning I went to Rendezvous as usual, served some capuchins and Greeks, everything was normal. Until the police cars started to sound. When something, anything, happens on an island in winter, everyone learns faster than the speed of light. And nobody liked what we learned...

The woman cleaning Vi's bar came in at nine in the morning with her key. But it was impossible to clear what she saw...

On the bar, on the floor, on the walls, everywhere, there was blood. Pieces of man, pieces of meat, scattered in space...

She did nothing but call the police - after threw up what was in her stomach. It took a few days to confirm who the dead person was.

Vi's disappearance was a clue, but there was no body, no face, no fingerprints, nothing. Just an explosion of blood and tissue. They found it in her teeth - which were scattered all over the bar...

The deceased was definitely Vi, Victoria Senel, a Belgian citizen, born in 1967. Her funeral took place a few days later, and happened to be on the vernal equinox. We've all been there. All moral authors - or perhaps metaphysical authors?

"This mirror must be destroyed," Dieter said at one point, while the island's Catholic priest chanted. "Forget me," I told him. "I'm leaving the island in three days. And I don't want to know anything about it." "You're a coward," Dieter told me. "Of course I am. If it was you Vi would be alive now.”

I thought I had wised him up with that last sentence. But every man continues to search for his demons, until the final battle. My demon was not there. Dieter's and Desiree's was.

Ten days later I was in Macerata, a small town, a student town, in Italy. I had started my trip to Europe and I didn't want anything to remember from Naxos.

One night, while we were talking with Antonia - who hosted me - about her cat, Hyacinthos, I heard the sound of the message on the mobile phone. It was Tina. He was apologizing for bothering me, since he knew I wanted to get away from the stagnation of the island. She was gone too.

She had decided to go to the USA, to a friend of hers who lived in New York. But she had to write to me, to find out what happened at the bar in Vi. The bar was sealed off by the police.

Dieter and Desiree told the rest of the "gang" that they were going to destroy the mirror. Xavier and Patricia refused. Haim looked away. Tina tried to stop them. They took a hammer and oil. They would break him and then burn him.

Maybe even the whole bar. They had to keep Indoda away.They did it.

But they sacrificed for it.

Vi's bar burned to the ground.

The fire department found two bodies inside, a man and a woman. They were not only burnt, but also disfigured, their insides had come out...

"I'm going to New York," Tina wrote to me in the last message. “I want to leave the old world behind me, just like you did. I wish you to continue to be afraid.”

And I did, just like he said. I am never the bravest, the fearless, the daring.

I drive at 100 on the national highway - and always in the right lane.

I don't light candles in front of mirrors or play with things I can't understand.

I don't curse or swear. I'm a coward, I admit it.

But if you too had seen those eyes, that March night, then you would understand me.

Posted on July 9, 2018, in Mind Opener www.iforinterview.com/

Source: sanejoker.info

Ne me quitte pas - Jacques Brel - Turn on CC to see the translations
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDcH4J…

Description
Don't play with demons; demons always take the strongest ones ...

You better not play with your demons...

I stayed three winters in Naxos. The third was almost the last of my life.

But, fortunately, I am a weak character, timid and excessively procrastinating.

I write "fortunately", because you may know that demons always take the strongest.

The winters on the island were completely different from the summers. Especially for foreigners. The natives had their nice houses and relatives, they had television and fields.

We, the foreigners, stayed in empty rooms. We didn't care about the summer. Lots of work, lots of fun, sea, tourists from all over the world. We usually didn't catch everything.

To work, to take baths, to go out at night and exchange liquids with women - or men - from around the world. But in the winter the island was empty, as were our rooms.

The locals hung out with the locals, the appointed professors only with their class.

The "emigres", summer workers from all over the world who didn't leave, Greeks, Albanians, French, Germans and Poles, we were forced to spend our nights in a bar owned by V (V for Victoria), from ' Belgium.

In the first winter there was a certain charm to the whole situation. We played the guitar (that's where I first heard Ne me quitte pas, sung by a Frenchman from Toulouse), we exchanged bitterness about our countries, we drank until we passed out and sometimes we went to the room to made sex - libertarian and somewhat cold.

The second winter we were again the same people, twenty in a quorum, and we did exactly the same (I heard ne me quitte pas another forty times from Xavier). The necessary swinging was done to broaden our sexual horizons, but still there weren't many of us. By April we had all done it with everyone else, like we were a perverted family. My third winter on the island, and at Vi's bar, found me bored.

I didn't want to hear ne me quitte pas again, nor to have sex with Xavier's wife (who was also twenty years older than me, at forty-seven) again. We had to find something new to chew through the months until the vernal equinox.

The solution was found by Dieter, a forty-year-old German who worked as a caretaker in a hotel, and had been on the island for more years than me.

One night when we were really bored Dieter asked us if we wanted to do something "different" that night. There were four men and three women sitting at the bar. Me, Dieter, Xavier (the Frenchman with the mustache that reminded me of Dali), and Chaim who was Israeli and in the summers made the statue on the beach.

As for the women, we had Xavier's wife, Patricia, with the magnificent breasts, so full that many twenty-year-old women would envy them. Tina from Serbia - who was doing portraits in the summer, and Desiree, a white South African, a former English teacher in her country - was making ceramics on the island.

We all interpreted Dieter's "something different" as another orgy. More or less, in various combinations, we had all fucked with everyone. So it didn't seem like an interesting proposition to us. These excesses only bring fatigue in the end.

But he opened his backpack and left the Necronomicon on the bar...

"How about summoning demons?" he said softly, as if afraid of being overheard outside.

We started laughing and telling sex jokes about the "demons" we hide in our pants. He had definitely woken up the company, but we all thought it was a game.

"I already made an appeal to the demon," Dieter said.

We looked at him ready to laugh.

"And he came."

Something in his face, something in the way he spoke, scared me. Not just me.

None of the group of émigrés said anything funny.

“My grandmother,” said Tina, “told me you could summon demons. They had her as a witch in the village."

"I did that with the three candles on the mirror," Dieter said. "You light three candles in front of a mirror, look into it and say the phrases from the book." He downed his beer in one gulp. “The demon appeared behind me, in the mirror. If I went back to look at him I would bring him here. But I was scared. And I blew out the candles."

For a moment no one spoke. Vi, behind the bar, sighed. "I guess that's enough drinking for today," she said. "You escaped again."

We laughed, we forgot for a while, we sang ne me quitte pas again, some grinned, but we couldn't forget what Dieter had said.

A moment later, Break on through was playing at the time, and Morrison was singing about the devil himself, Xavier slammed his hand on the bar and said in drunken Anglo-French: "I say let's do it."

We all understood what he meant.

That's what we've been thinking for a long time. After discussing it with Dieter, the "keycrator", we learned that the best place to summon demons is in graveyards.

In Naxos the cemetery is inside Chora. I don't think there is another place in the world where the dead are buried so close to the living.

The cemetery is between hotels and taverns. Right next door, wall to wall, is a Mexican restaurant. Outside the cemetery door is a kiosk. Opposite a car rental office and a little, ten meters, below, an internet cafe.

It seems as if the dead continue to be a part of the lives of the living. Maybe it is.

Especially after what I saw that winter, I believe it.

That March night, two hours after midnight, seven of us entered the cemetery carrying a mirror and three candles. The mirror was two meters long and another one in height, with smoked glass. Vi had it behind the drinks and we had a hard time getting her to give it to us. But we were her only customers, she couldn't refuse us. I wish she had. We put the mirror on two monuments. One was of a lawyer who had killed himself by falling from Portara. The other of some old woman who just fell. And as is well known, old women are either from falling or being untied...

We all stood in front of him in a row, shoulder to shoulder. Me and Xavier, who were taller, sat a seat behind. Dieter lit the candles and opened the book. "Remember," he told us. "As long as we see him in the mirror it can't bother us. If someone turns around and sees him normally then'' 'Then what?' I asked him. "Let's just say it's better not to happen," Dieter replied. I didn't like his answer at all, but I wanted to continue, because it seemed kind of funny - and scary at the same time, like I was on a roller coaster. .

It was a very quiet night in March. There was no wind at all and the only sound inside the cemetery was Dieter's voice as he read those strange words...

At first we giggled. Xavier was shaking me in the ribs and pinching Desiree's ass. It could have ended like this, but then there was complete silence...

The most complete and terrifying silence I have ever heard...

Because we all saw him appearing behind us, in the mirror...

The demons. Summoning demons...

It sounds so fake, so foreign, until it happens to you...

It's like the car accident. You've been driving for thirty years, you're a careful driver, you've never crashed and everything's fine. But when the truck from the opposite stream comes at you, you don't have time to think about anything, because it's a truck, and it crashes into your seat at 120+120 km .Head-on collision and you barely have time to say "where is this bastard going" before you become one with the sheet metal...

And if the head-on with a truck seems to you a brutal situation, with a lot of blood, then you must find yourself summoning a demon...

The form that began to materialize behind us seemed to be blacker than darkness. Originally it was like a cloud, like a cloud with intelligence, undefined. But then he began to take on a form, human and monstrous at the same time.

He seemed to be two or three meters behind us and was twice the height of any human.

As it formed a foul smell filled the room, like something long dead under your fridge.

He had hands with many fingers, more than five for sure, and very long—maybe they were claws too. He rocked them like a dreaming baby - spasmodically.

The head, its shape, did not resemble a human. Maybe it looked more like a donkey's head, if a donkey can look like a hyena. But it wasn't complete. It seemed to be forming at that moment and it seemed to be in pain, like it was being born. But his eyes were closed.

By this time we were looking at it in the mirror without breathing. I don't know how long this first stage lasted, but I certainly didn't catch my breath.

And then he opened his eyes. They were so beautiful!

Have you ever seen a cobra staring you in the face? Neither did I, but as soon as he opened his eyes I thought exactly that, a cobra. A cobra that hypnotized us through the mirror...

I could have stayed there forever, watching it, whatever it was, whatever hell it came out of...

But then I realized that Patricia had started to turn her head to look back. Her gaze was like a line going towards the demon. Rather like a thread, as soon as she touched him she could come to us. She went over her shoulder, reached Xavier who was sitting on my right, and continued towards the demon...

Then, despite the terror and the blizzard, I did something I certainly didn't think of before.

I lunged forward, pushed Desiree and Tina aside, and struck the candles with both hands. It might have been a split second before Patricia's thread touched the demon. But as soon as the light went out the demon disappeared...

Patricia didn't see anything behind us. I had saved us, but at the time we were too scared to realize it. "What are you doing?" Dieter shouted at me. "Almost"...

“Almost what? Almost what, Dieter? What the hell was that? What the shit'..?

I took a few deep breaths, but it was as if the world had been emptied of air.

"Merde!" Xavier said. Desiree said another word, not English, but from her native Afrikaans. He would explain to us what it meant the next night.

“I'm a little crazy,” I told Dieter, “but this is beyond the levels of insanity I can handle. Do whatever you want to do, but,” I laughed to keep from crying, “don't call me next time.”

I left the cemetery without another word. My room was thirty meters below. I stayed up all night with the lights on.

As soon as it dawned, I took a cold shower and went out to see people. I drank a coffee, I talked to the captain-Georgis, who had brought the morning's fish to the port, and I went to Rendevous, the cafeteria where I had been working since seven o'clock.

I wanted to feel like the world was still normal.

But we choose which sides of the world we want to see. In the evening I went back to Vi's bar, for the last time in my life.

They were all there talking about what we had seen. "Shall I say something?" Vi said at one point. “Know that my drinks are clean. What else you smoke, what else you take, I don't care. But I'm not to blame for the bullshit you're imagining."

But there were too many of us to believe that all that was a figment of our imaginations or hallucinations.

Desiree repeated the word to us: "Indoda." It's some Zulu spirit, from the time before the missionaries and the Bibles, some pagan demon. Circulates at night in the savannah. He seduces animals - and people - with his eyes. When he catches them he rips them out while they're still alive. "It couldn't have been that," Tina said. "This is not Africa. "Right," said Xavier, who was sober, and that rarely happened. "It must have been something from here, Greek or older. Who were here before the Greeks?”, “The Africans?” I told him.

Dieter didn't speak, he just opened the Necronomicon again.

He flipped through the pages, read something, and closed it.

He explained to us, in a few words, something he had not told us before we went to the cemetery.

That the demon that comes with the invocation can find the "hole" inside the mind of one of those who performed the ceremony...

Since those present were from all countries of the world, from many at least, then the demon could also be from everywhere...

That night we didn't play ne me quitte pas.

We were just talking about what had happened - and drinking...

Some, Dieter and Patricia especially, wanted us to repeat it. Chaim thought about it, Xavier would do as his wife told him. Tina would prefer to avoid it. Only Desiree and I were absolutely against such a repetition.

But we didn't understand something...

At that moment, as we were talking, we were exactly the same people as the previous time in the cemetery. We were sitting in front of the same mirror that we had brought back to Vi's bar, and - yes, it was so ridiculous that we didn't realize it - there were lit candles in front of the mirror - reso, for atmosphere...

That night I fought with the émigrés. They told me I was a coward - and I admitted it. I didn't want to, and I don't want to, throw my life away for fun. Maybe I won't live a second one.

As we "talked" about it, with a lot of tension for sure, I was looking in the mirror, behind the blinds...

...And then I saw on the wall where the poster of Jacques Brel in his youth hung, Indoda's eyes appeared, mesmerizing...

I couldn't blow out the candles, they were too far from me.

I just picked up the beer glass and threw it at the mirror...

For a while there was a commotion, but it was of the good kind.

Vi told me I was bullshitting, I gave her the money I had in my pocket and told her I wouldn't go there again. I didn't believe it when I said it, nor when I left banging on the door. But - anyway - I couldn't go again.

When you break a demonic mirror you don't banish the demon. You only multiply it.

The next morning I went to Rendezvous as usual, served some capuchins and Greeks, everything was normal. Until the police cars started to sound. When something, anything, happens on an island in winter, everyone learns faster than the speed of light. And nobody liked what we learned...

The woman cleaning Vi's bar came in at nine in the morning with her key. But it was impossible to clear what she saw...

On the bar, on the floor, on the walls, everywhere, there was blood. Pieces of man, pieces of meat, scattered in space...

She did nothing but call the police - after threw up what was in her stomach. It took a few days to confirm who the dead person was.

Vi's disappearance was a clue, but there was no body, no face, no fingerprints, nothing. Just an explosion of blood and tissue. They found it in her teeth - which were scattered all over the bar...

The deceased was definitely Vi, Victoria Senel, a Belgian citizen, born in 1967. Her funeral took place a few days later, and happened to be on the vernal equinox. We've all been there. All moral authors - or perhaps metaphysical authors?

"This mirror must be destroyed," Dieter said at one point, while the island's Catholic priest chanted. "Forget me," I told him. "I'm leaving the island in three days. And I don't want to know anything about it." "You're a coward," Dieter told me. "Of course I am. If it was you Vi would be alive now.”

I thought I had wised him up with that last sentence. But every man continues to search for his demons, until the final battle. My demon was not there. Dieter's and Desiree's was.

Ten days later I was in Macerata, a small town, a student town, in Italy. I had started my trip to Europe and I didn't want anything to remember from Naxos.

One night, while we were talking with Antonia - who hosted me - about her cat, Hyacinthos, I heard the sound of the message on the mobile phone. It was Tina. He was apologizing for bothering me, since he knew I wanted to get away from the stagnation of the island. She was gone too.

She had decided to go to the USA, to a friend of hers who lived in New York. But she had to write to me, to find out what happened at the bar in Vi. The bar was sealed off by the police.

Dieter and Desiree told the rest of the "gang" that they were going to destroy the mirror. Xavier and Patricia refused. Haim looked away. Tina tried to stop them. They took a hammer and oil. They would break him and then burn him.

Maybe even the whole bar. They had to keep Indoda away.They did it.

But they sacrificed for it.

Vi's bar burned to the ground.

The fire department found two bodies inside, a man and a woman. They were not only burnt, but also disfigured, their insides had come out...

"I'm going to New York," Tina wrote to me in the last message. “I want to leave the old world behind me, just like you did. I wish you to continue to be afraid.”

And I did, just like he said. I am never the bravest, the fearless, the daring.

I drive at 100 on the national highway - and always in the right lane.

I don't light candles in front of mirrors or play with things I can't understand.

I don't curse or swear. I'm a coward, I admit it.

But if you too had seen those eyes, that March night, then you would understand me.

Posted on July 9, 2018, in Mind Opener www.iforinterview.com/

Source: sanejoker.info

Ne me quitte pas - Jacques Brel - Turn on CC to see the translations
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDcH4J…