Architect of Paradise: Out of the ruins

The clock on the wall is showing twelve o'clock. There is a deadly silence in the big room but it is the perfect moment of the day.

Right now, I am reading a book about history while I am sitting at the front desk of the library. I am working as a librarian, for the last three weeks.

For some reason, I really like the historical books. They are like real fairytales. There is a lot of facts and emotion in the texts. Range, intrigue, heroism and of course political scandals are some of the interesting parts. For some people, this is boring, but not for me. I remember that I was really interesting in history, from my days at school.

I really enjoy reading historical books in this quiet place. I wasn’t expecting to be here. I live in this small town in the northwest of Virginia, for the last three weeks.

I travelled about three to five hours from Washington to arrive in the small town, called Green Hill. It is in the woods and surrounded with mountains, away from civilization. It has about fifty hundreds civilians, who survive from the woods, the tourism and fields of corn that are located behind the big green hill.

In this small town, there are some shops, a school, a church, the Town Mall, a cafeteria, a small clinic and to my surprise, a library.

My arrival here was something that I didn’t plan. When I said to my best friend that I wanted a peaceful place, away from everything, she suggested me to come here, to her paternal house to live.

Her parents died a long time ago and she never came back to this small town. The house was at ruins with no use. I appreciated her suggestion and I accepted it. I really wanted to stay alone, away from everything.

The mayor and the locals has welcomed me warmly, maybe too warmly. I suppose the population is decreasing with the years, when the younger generation abandons their hometown to take chances to the big cities.

They offered to fix some damages of the house, while the mayor suggested for me to work at the library.

It is not really hard. I just need to take care of the books from the dust and moisture, to archive them to the right shelves and to service those who come to enrich their knowledge. Of course, this is happening rarely.

The only visitor of the library is a teenage boy, called Justin Andrews. He is a shy and introverted boy with a thin body, short curly brown hair and brown eyes. He comes after school, sits to a corner and reads books about literature with focus until the closure time of the library.

He is so focused that, it’s like that nobody is here. That way, I can have my peaceful place to live and work. It’s a paradise.

Well, today is an exception.

The bell connected to the door rings, warning me about the arrival of somebody. It’s the mayor, Mr. Jackson. He is a man around sixties with grey short hair and a sparse grey beard. He is a kind and warm person.

-“Good day, Miss Mars.”He says with a smile.

-“Good day to you, too, Mr. Jackson. What brings you here at this hour?”

-“I brought you the list with the new books for the library. At the same time, I bring you an invitation from my wife, who wants to meet you and get to know you better.” He answers.

“Well, she just wants to gossip.” I think, but I don’t say it aloud. I just smile.

-“My dear, you are here and you have no friends.” The mayor persists.

I know that I can't escape. So I accept the invitation, so I can be peaceful again.

-“Then, I’ll come tonight.” I say. The man smiles warmly and leaves.

It is now two o’clock and like always, Justin just came. He is sitting in his usual corner studying and reading his favorite books about literature. It is quiet and I really like it that way. I continue to read my historical book.

My peacefulness doesn’t last long. After a couple of minutes, the bell of the door rings again.

This time, it is my neighbor, Mrs. Claris Falcon, a childless and widow middle aged woman. She had long brown hair and light brown eyes.

There is a small paper box in her hands and I think that there is a piece of pie. Mrs. Falcon brings me everyday a little something as lunch that she bakes herself. She is a very kind woman but sometimes, her kindness becomes really annoying.

-“This time, it is a piece of lemon pie”, she says.

-“Thank you very much, Mrs. Falcon.”

-“Don’t mention it. However, if you want to thank me, you can visit me for a cup of coffee. It’s already three weeks and you have no friends.”

I really don’t understand. Is it a tradition to invite strangers to their houses after three weeks? However, I can’t say no, when she is so friendly and generous.

-“Okay then. I’ll come on Saturday morning,” I say. She smiles really warmly and leaves.

My thought are on the piece of lemon pie and my eyes are lost on it for a second. In the end, I eat it.

At four o’clock, I ring the bell of closure and Justin comes to my desk with two books. He gives me his library card and I check it. Then I sign the books to his account.

-“You must return them in two weeks,” I say. He waves his head affirmatively and he leaves. Well, it doesn’t take me much time to also leave.

I arrive at home. It is a detached house with five rooms, classic and neat furniture and the necessary electrical devices. There was also a small garden, which was a disaster at the beginning. I cleaned it but now it is empty.

When I get inside, I put off my glasses, which are like a cover to hide my green eyes. I go in the bathroom and I fill over the bathtub with warm and aromatic water. I take off my clothes and a thin, well-lined body, appears.

At the top of my left shoulder there is a colorful tattoo of a butterfly. It is really intense on my pale skin. I sink in the water for a moment. I leave my body to relax and I close my eyes. It is peaceful again.

After my bath, I dress up with a simple jeans and a black blouse. Then, I get close to the fireplace and I set fire. I sit on the carpet on the floor with a glass of red wine and my eyes stare at the flames. My thoughts are chaotic.

I really want a peaceful life. I can’t tolerate anything else. However I tried, there were always ghosts, demons and painful memories to come back and torture me. A ghost like that, surfaced in my mind when I saw that piece of lemon pie.

A same piece of lemon pie from the bakery of my old neighborhood was my torture in a cold day of my tenth winter.

My hunger was so big that I glued to the window of the bakery and my saliva was running. I didn’t have money and of course nobody was generous enough to buy me some. I was so disappointing and hungry that I was ready to cry, but I stayed strong.

With my rugged clothes, I came back home, where was my mother with a stranger and they were kissing. They didn’t pay attention to me and I didn’t dare to interrupt them. My fear of my mother was bigger than my hunger. She was accusing me for her terrible life without anything. She was angry that she was poor and she was breaking out at me by beating me.

I was at my room, when suddenly the man got inside. He looked my poor and simple room without toys and then he looked at me. In his eyes there was lust and I got really scared.

Before I could do anything, he rushed at me and pinned me down. His big and strong body pinned mine on the bed, while one of his hands was keeping my mouth shut. The other hand was touching me all over with a disgusting way.

I tried to fight but I was weak. Then he put down his pants and with a gross sound of his mouth, there was anticipation on his face. I petrified. I was lucky that my mother returned on time, or wasn’t I?

He told her that I tried to seduce him. My mother believed him and she looked at me with anger, hate and disgust. She took out her belt and started to beat me while she was screaming vulgar words. My hands rounded my face and head to protect it but my whole body got some bruises.

In the end, she got me out of house. She threatened me to leave and never come back otherwise she was going to kill me. I was really afraid and disappointed. I cried for a long time begging her to let me in, but she didn’t. Then I hated myself for crying.

I was a ten years old kid full of disappointment, anger and fear. I was weak, hungry and in pain. It was like the end of the world from me. That day began my tragic, complex and not so peaceful life. It was the day, of the lemon pie for the bakery.

I drink from my wine as I close my eyes and the tears that were filling my eyes, unconsciously run across my face. I wipe them out.

I look at the wall’s clock. I start to dress up for my visit to the Jackson’s. The clothes that I am wearing are casual and simple but that is what I want. I only need to make my hair. I put my glasses on and leave the house.

Green Hill is a small town and one can go anywhere he likes on feet. I need at least ten minutes to arrive to my destination. While I am on my way, I see Mrs. Parker to walk really quickly to Mr. Duncan’s house.

She is a petit middle aged woman with short blonde hair and brown eyes. Mr. Duncan is the bus driver. The Town Mall has set a small mini bus that the civilians can use to travel from Green Hill to the neighbor towns.

Mrs. Parker seems to be in agony, but my mind travels elsewhere forgetting her the next moment.