Darkness. Everywhere I look, darkness.

Albert-Ludwigs-Universität Freiburg

Englisches Seminar

WS 2008/09

HS: Short Fiction

Written by: Alexandra Orth

11.01.09

DARKNESS

Darkness. Everywhere I look, darkness. Listen. Can you hear the sound of this gorgeous girl? Listen to her “click – cluck, click – cluck”. Steady like my clock at home, “tick – tuck, click – cluck”, forwarded from the narrow alleys. My imagination runs wild. By analysing the sound of her steps I can paint a picture in my mind. She seems to be a very elegant comely person the way she uses to walk in her high heels. The same swinging rhythm you’ll find on the catwalks. The little pause between her “click – cluck” tells me something about her size. She has to be tall but still very graceful the way she conquers the cobbled pavement. What is she up to? Why is she disturbing the silence of the night? It’s 4 o’clock in the morning. There are better times being awake. I decide to walk back home and to leave my Mystery to the dark - knowing we probably won’t share the night together.

Back home I try to get some sleep. These sleeping pills stacked on my bed table are very helpful friends. Every night I step into the boxing ring with the chemical industry to get knocked-out by these little cocktails in the shape of a pill. It’s been almost two years ago now, since I last saw my wife. Maybe this mysterious woman reminded me of her. I don’t really know. She sounded so familiar. Two years of loneliness, darkness and sadness leave scars. You start seeing things, you start talking to ghosts, you start inventing your own little friends in your mind. My mind, the only place I am still together with her. What a fantastic day we spent yesterday at the lake. She looked unbelievable like always. We had a little nice picnic on a bank of sand and, yes, we laughed – laughed so much. Oh, it is time to go to bed now. I am very close to get my nightly lucky punch.

“What a nice sunny morning. My name is Gregory Hill and this is the 10 o’clock news …”, my alarm clock tells me. Why the hell did I set the alarm clock to 10 a.m.? Usually I wake up or let’s say am disturbed at 8 a.m. Not that anyone gives a damn about me waking up at 10. Years ago it was some sort of habit I indulged and it might be the only thing I pushed through to this life. Yeah, I like to talk about my two lives. The one before and the one after or shortened the bright and dark one. A single moment can change everything, seriously, believe me. The minute my day became night was … hold on a second there is something on the news. “… the police found the dead body of a woman in a small alley close to the harbour. There were signs on her body that give the indication the woman must have been strangled to death. Her age might be around 28-30. She has long dark hair with a short fringe and wore a dark blue trench coat with black leather boots. For any information please call your local police office!” Where was I yesterday night? What did Mr. Hill from the news say again? The alley next to the harbour. That’s the area where I have been lurking around? Maybe this dead body belongs to my muse from last night. Usually I would say my mind is fooling me but this time it seems very real indeed. Probably I was the last person very close to her before meeting the hangman. I have to phone the police immediately and tell them … ? Yes, what should I tell them? I met a woman but we didn’t really meet, and constable your description of her fits the portrait I painted in my mind. People end up in psychiatrics for comments like that. Possibly this might be the right place for me. No, I am sure this woman was the one I heard yesterday night. There was this kind of fear in her walking. I cannot describe the feeling but it’s like I owe her some time. Time she warmed my cool soul and pushed me a bit out of my so monotonous life. Your death shall not be unsolved, let this be a promise to you wherever you are!

How shall I start? I’ve never done something like this before. What would somebody like James Bond do? Probably shoot a couple of people, get captured from the villain who would tell him all relevant secrets before leaving him alone to escape. Seriously, all I know is the information my “wake up” friend Mr. Hill from the news has given me. Mr. Hill from the news has become a really good friend of mine. For me, he is a connection to the world and society outside. I know everything from David Beckham’s affair to Paris Hilton’s new videos. Alright, a shower, some caffeine and the leftovers from the pizza delivery might be a good start.

After sliding into my tailored dark grey suit I decided to start where everything ended. The harbour. Even the sun expressed her happiness of me helping this poor individual - I am talking about the woman. It was quite a while ago I plunged myself into the daily crowd of stressful hectic business people, unhappy nagging housewives and social workers gathering on the pavement. Once in a while I’ll be part of the daily life. Because of this I get some kind of snapshot images from the society and their changes. We are on a good way, depending on the way you see it. More people spend their time in the fresh air. Well, what should you do without a house or any other accommodation? I sometimes donate a good cup of coffee to a dosser. Perhaps it helps. The girl in the coffee commercial got successful and her only secret was the cup of this wonderful coffee. On the other hand a lot of people get richer and richer doing awful things. I am talking about the musicians these days. Some of them can’t count to 10 without their manager’s help. “1 Ferrari, 2 Ferrari, 5 or is it 3?” But the worst of all is the alienation of people. Talking and listening to real people gave way to mp3 Players with their headphones and short messaging with your mobile and the virtual life in the Internet. There is no helping hand anymore for a grandma trying to cross the street, there is no courage to stand up against racial comments. People blind themselves so they can look away without getting a guilty conscience. Poor world. I better get started now.

I took the same route as yesterday. On the way I indulged myself with a nice cup of coffee. I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl in the commercial and to be successful on my mission I need every kind of help. Sipping on my coffee I stand at the corner from last night. A few hours away there was silence. Just the “click-a-de-cluck” of her boots. A few hours or even a few seconds can change your life. It reminds me on my life changing moment. I was like you. I was wasting my life, everyone else’s life surrounding me. No time, too tired, … you name the excuses. If I would get the chance to travel back in time I really would appreciate every day as something special. Special to me and therefore special to everybody who likes and loves me. “Bloody hell, kid, be careful the next time”. A teenager bumped into me. He probably was too much into his music. Anyway there is a job to do. I move on the harbour getting to the crime scene. After 30 minutes of walking around all kind of streets somebody eventually gave me the right direction. Here we are. Here she had to give away her life and we still don’t know why. A small crossway at the harbour. At the end of the small passage is a cul-de-sac so there was no way to escape. The chalk on the pavement described how she was lying. The chalk was freshly scribbled onto the street I could feel it with my fingers. She must have been on her side with bent legs. Her hands were positioned next to her head. I guess she tried to get rid off the rope, which must have been the murders weapon. Her body rested next to some dustbins. A really penetrating smell. But there is something else. Where is this coming from? In between this putrid garbage I recognized the rather freshly scent of a lemon. I try to follow the fresh “ingredients” leaving the stinking stuff behind. A small broken bottle of “Fleurs du cup”. A rather fresh perfume, not really common. It depends on the type of skin you got. Sometimes it smells a bit like cheap soap from the public toilets, but sometimes it’s really “aphrodisiacal”. One of my ex-girlfriends loved this one. Believe me this scent can be unbelievable. After we split I tried the perfume with my new love. Not successful. She smelled like she was off. Well, it didn’t work out anyway.

The police must have forgotten this evidence. It was very close to the garbage, I recon they thought it belonged to it. At least I got something to start with. The scent of a woman. Would be a nice title for a movie. Now it’s on me to find out where she bought this bottle. There are a lot of perfumeries in town. I do know the perfume is not that famous anymore. So hopefully there are just a few selling this stuff. It could even be worse. Nowadays people are posh and buy perfumes through the Internet. This doesn’t smell like a copy so I guess she didn’t buy it from there. If women want something they want it now. Women are quite old fashioned. This might be a good opportunity to have a short break. I shouldn’t push it too much. It’s the first day of “working” after a long time and it is not healthy to start from 0 to 100. So I headed to the next Bistro around looking for a nice tuna sandwich and a cup of coffee.

The Bistro’s name is “Tuning Harry”. He is famous for his tuna. Unbelievable what Harry creates out of tuna. I still remember banquets we used to have at his place. I heard his voice nagging in the kitchen. I shouted, “Harry, how are you? Business doin’ alright?” With brute force he opened the swinging door of the kitchen. “Simon Maze, can you believe it? My dear friend, what an honour. What brings you here to my Fish’n’Chips palace?” He started to call his place Fish’n’Chips palace because of all the daily dockworkers that are not really keen on trying his menu creations. They prefer the proper battered fish fried to crisp heaven with some vinegar fries. He always wanted to kick them out but behind the rough shell there is a lot of heart.

I explained Harry my intention to help this murdered woman to find peace. He already heard about the tragedy. It happened just around the corner from his restaurant. He told me that the police left just a few minutes ago. They had a bite and did some questioning of the customers. Routine questions like “Have you seen or heard anything”. No one had. The only news Harry discovered from the police was the time they reckon the woman has been killed. It must have been between 4 and 5 in the morning.

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