Conseqences

"One year has passed and I'm still here looking through this small window, looking at the very same spot and trying to imagine the things that unfolded then. And for each day that passes the events are becoming harder and harder to understand. As if it wasn't bad enough that everyone has forgotten what happened here one year ago, last month the authorities decided to put a bench on the exact same spot she died.  A fucking bench... They cleared my little pot holding flowers and installed a freaking bench. What were they thinking I asked myself on that day. That people will want to relax at a murder scene?

But I was surprised once again by the ignorance of the masses, by how easily people get steered. Steered away from their ideals and their individuality. Steered towards an endless pit of false hope and lust. Steered by both the leaders we elect and put our trust in but also by strangers that want our money.
This bench represents all that and more. They didn't even have the courtesy to put a name tag on it so that she could be at least mentioned: "Look honey, it says "in memory of Gloria"; let's not sit here, let's find somewhere else to sit.". No, no one would say that. They would probably say something like: "I wonder who this bitch Gloria was and what she did to deserve this; probably an old hag that used to feed pigeons with leftovers; or some big-ass's wife that died killing herself on this bench cause her husband had too much balls to spread around. And now, full of guilt and sorrow that bastard bribed some authority to let him build a bench here; it's not even a comfortable one."

Ignorant ass-wipers.

Everyone forgets. Even I'm starting to forget her. And this alcohol sure isn't working. "Bartender, another round! Make it a double! And I've told you a million times, can you clean that dirty ass window over there? I can barely see her. My wife that's who. She said she was going to get a divorce and hand me the papers. Serve me? The joke's on her; I'm going to watch her waiting and after she leaves I'm gonna call her and ask where she's hiding cause I've been waiting for her for so long". Hehehe!"


So many things were said that day and none of them really reflected my feelings towards her. She slammed the door on her way out, screaming for divorce, while I was looking for things to say in the company of a bottle of Scotch. Time was not indulgent over our marriage, that is for sure... But to think that I would become life's and society's joke...

Our blind justice system decided to release on parole one of our many killers this beautiful country had created. On that cursed night, their paths crossed; they said she resembled her mother whilst others said she was killed precisely on 11th of March, the day he was caught 10 years ago. I don't know if he killed her cause of his psychotic delusions or because he wanted to piss on the justice system. Doesn't matter now does it?

I've been the star of many television and newspapers articles. I've been probably cursed by every authority figure starting from the mayoral office to the general attorney and penitentiary system for making the story public. I've also been blamed for drinking too much, for being a cheater. Some people would stop me on the street to try cheer me up whilst others were looking at me with pity; probably they figured out how of a loathsome person I am. People would say that it was entirely my fault for letting things get out of hand, but I know better. Well...I used to think that I knew better. I always had an opinion about what is right or wrong. But our opinions won't do shit in the face of reality. We're shaped by other people's actions and we can only walk on the path built by those actions' consequences.

 A fucking bench... Hehehe! It's not even a pretty one!"

Copilul, Soldatul si Justitia (oarba) - partea a 2-a

Link partea 1

Soldatul

In nu mai putin de trei luni (de cand incepuse razboiul) a trebuit sa-si schimbe principiile de viata de doua ori si acum, pentru a treia oara. Nu era neaparat o rasturnare de 180 de grade, ca inainte, ci mai degraba o stare de angoasa ce se amplifica pana in maduva spinarii lasandu-l prada ferocitatii propriilor sale ganduri de vinovatie. Statea impietrit in genunchi, desenand pe mormanele de pamant cate o cruce. Desi sunetul obuzelor, gloantelor si rachetelor anti-tanc vuiau cand in departare cand foarte aproape, isi lăsă pentru un moment casca si mitraliera in tarana. Isi strânse cu putere ochii pentru a-si oprii lacrimile sa curga desi nu dorea acest lucru. Dar stia ca intr-un razboi castigă doar cei puternici. Si daca nu era puternic nu isi va mai putea revedea sotia si copilul. Scoase dintr-un buzunar de la pantaloni o fotografie si isi fixa privirea asupra ei. Cu ultimele puteri, rosti un ultim omagiu, sub forma unei rugaciuni, pentru prietenii lui cazuti dar si pentru a se impăca cu sinele sau.

Incet, incet isi reveni. Incet, incet reusi sa distinga sunetele ce-l inconjurau de propriile ganduri. Mai intai vocile disperate ce se auzeau din statie, unele cerand dupa ajutor, altele rostind ultimele lor cuvinte, urmate de infernalul suierat al gloantelor, rachetelor sau avioanelor de vanatoare ce strapungeau fara mila aerul. Voi să se ridice dar o explozie de mari proportii, aflată la nu mai mult de 5 kilometrii il dezechilibră, lovindu-si capul de pamant. Auzi vocea superiorului in statie:

"Catre toate echipajele Bravo-1! Situatia scapă de sub control vertiginos! Recomandam calea 5-B pentru evacuare. Repet: Pentru toate echipajele Bravo-1, calea 5-B pentru evacuare! Aveti 30 de minute la dispozitie... Pentru echipajele Bravo-2 indreptati-va catre sectorul 1-B folosind calea.... "

Desi se afla la mai putin de 10 minute de mers catre destinatie, se hotarî sa se grabeasca. Isi ridică propria casca, o curăţă putin de praf, aruncă mitraliera pe umarul drept si isi văzu de drum. Ruta recomandată de superiori era cea mai scurta dar si cea mai periculoasa. In astfel de momente era constient ca situatia nu se degrada treptat ci ca de fapt, batalia era pierduta. Nu putea sprinta catre locul de extractie intrucat trecea printr-o zona de risc maxim si mai exact printr-o zona rezidentiala. O zona splendida, linistita in momente de pace, dominată de jocul copiilor, de sunetul camionetei de inghetata si claxonul tatalui la intoarcerea acasa de la servici, transformată acum intr-un morman de ruine, amestecate cu fum, foc si disperare. Reprezenta, de asemenea, si un loc ideal pentru ambuscadă.

Toate aceste imagini ii veneau in minte sporadic, impingandu-l din ce in ce mai repede spre prapastia ce desparte adevaratii soldati de simplii cetateni. Incerca cu putere sa-si pastreze calmul, tenacitatea de care a dat dovada de nenumarate ori in misiunile de antrenament, sa nu cadă prada fricii si sa nu isi vada distruse astfel idealurile. Ochii ii fugeau la fiecare sunet sau miscare, oricat de neinsemnata, fie ea si a unei frunze in bataia vantului, picioarele incepeau sa-i tremure, inima sa-i bata din ce in ce mai tare, iar mana strângea cu ferocitate mitraliera, unica sa sansa de supravietuire. O parte din el il făcea sa realizeze ca se misca prea incet si ca pierdea timp pretios, analizand toate aceste detalii, pe cand alta il imobiliza parca, spunandu-i sa nu faca ceva necugetat. Cauta o urma de ratiune si logica in acel loc uitat de Dumnezeu. Isi aminti de poza si dă sa o scoată din buzunar. Dar cu stupoare nu o gasi. Ca si cum ar fi pierdut totul, se adaposti dupa scheletul unei masini arse, aruncă arma cat si jacheta de pe el si-i controlă toate buzunarele. Cu cat o cauta mai mult si in aceleasi locuri deveni din ce in ce mai agitat. Intregul peisaj din jurul lui parea sa se mareasca, sa prinda o dimensiune ce-l coplesea, ce-l sufoca, simtea parca pe propria piele arsita flacarilor dimprejur, iar sunetele din fond se uniformizau sub planul unui tiuit puternic si constant ce-i cauzau dureri insuportabile. Cadea cu repeziciune si nu era nimeni sa-i ofere o mana de ajutor sau macar sa strige la el pentru a-si reveni.

Mai mult chiar, o senzatie ca era inconjurat de inamici, luat in vizor si eventual ucis căpăta contur in propria minte. Desi probabil nu era nimeni in casele alaturate, zarea diferite siluete inchise la culoare, la ferestre, cum zambeau la el ironic, lasand la iveala o dantura perfect alba. Luă mitraliera si incepu sa traga frenetic in aer, in timp ce fugea printre ruine. Miscarile-i erau discordante, fugind cand inainte cand inapoi si tipand din toata fiinta. Se opri in veranda unei case aproape pe jumatate distrusa pentru a reincarca arma. Se simtea deznadajduit si totusi, in acelasi timp, determinat sa nu fie o prada ci un pradator. Un mic zgomot provenit dinspre casa de vis-a-vis, ii căptă atentia. Stia acum ca era cineva acolo dar nu voia sa fie descoperit. Credea ca oricine ar fi fost pe urmele lui, l-a pierdut in momentul cand se urcase pe veranda. Se simtea superior si astepta momentul oportun cand va apăsa pe tragaci. Nu voia sa se dea de gol, gandindu-se astfel ca, un glont bine pozitionat, ii va asigura victoria. Urmatorul zgomot de data aceasta provenit dintr-un plan mult mai apropiat decat primul, mai exact din dreptul unui rest de perete din fata casei, mai mult ca sigur cazut in urma bombardamentului, il determină să tragă. Un singure glonte, pentru o singura viata... Ridica arma cu ambele maini, in semn de victorie. Isi razbunase camarazii... isi protejase familia...

O lumina alba, puternica se asternu asupra teatrului de razboi, lasand in urma sa o liniste tenebra...

Link partea a 3-a