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Son of God-Idiotic story- Memory loss

von
Son
E-BookEPUBePub WasserzeichenE-Book
280 Seiten
Englisch
Books on Demanderschienen am29.08.20221. Auflage
An imaginary mystical fairy tale based on true events. Which tells the story of a little boy`s childhood, and the boy`s sick relative, and the dreams of the spirits seen by the young man over time, and related fantasies about television programs at different stages of the man`s life that caused the man`s state of mind to be shocked. The beginning and end are real, during the creature and night of shock imaginary.

The author is a biography of a craftsman, which tells about the author`s personal experiences in different countries at different times of the year.mehr
Verfügbare Formate
BuchKartoniert, Paperback
EUR18,40
E-BookEPUBePub WasserzeichenE-Book
EUR12,99

Produkt

KlappentextAn imaginary mystical fairy tale based on true events. Which tells the story of a little boy`s childhood, and the boy`s sick relative, and the dreams of the spirits seen by the young man over time, and related fantasies about television programs at different stages of the man`s life that caused the man`s state of mind to be shocked. The beginning and end are real, during the creature and night of shock imaginary.

The author is a biography of a craftsman, which tells about the author`s personal experiences in different countries at different times of the year.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9789528058946
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format HinweisePub Wasserzeichen
Erscheinungsjahr2022
Erscheinungsdatum29.08.2022
Auflage1. Auflage
Seiten280 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Artikel-Nr.9836473
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe

CHAPTER ONE
CHILDHOOD

I watched laying on my back on the lawn the clouds moving in the sky. They moved past my eyes as I imagined their shapes, there were small and large of them. One looked like a cat without legs, one like a hammer. My sister hung laundry on a string on the balcony, she always wore the same blue gymnastic suit. My brother played football in front of the garage doors, my father dug a ditch along the side of the house wall. When he didn t repair the house, he repaired our old car. The car was an old Volvo with Peugeot s diesel engine installed. My mother had a barber shop in the center of our hometown and she even had a few workers there. I, myself, was currently learning to ride a bike on the lawn of my home. My brother shouted at me, someone is coming. Along the hillside leading to the yard a strange clack came. I watched as a man brought a horse to our yard on a leash. The horse was a white little pony. Their steps came all the time closer to me.

I watched excitedly and curiously the white pony walking straight towards me. The man stuck to me and lifted me on the back of the pony. I squeezed with my small fists tightly the pony s bristles as we set out to ascend the slope road up to the street. We went across the street and back. Some people looked at us from the yards of their houses as I sat on the back of a white pony. When coming back to our yard my father gave the man money and the man left with the pony.

I was just starting the first year of my schooling at a local school. I had to walk to the school alone which was a couple of kilometers away. Sometimes my mom picked me up with the car and left me in the street a short walk away from the school.

The first time, at the same time while driving, she cleared the street crossing over busy street. I was sitting in the back seat of our car with the neighbor s boy and playing with the car window. I put my hands out the window and held my palms against the air flow. We came to a stop and my mother asked when I got out of the car if I had understood the street crossing? I nodded, having understood and got out of the car to the big outside world. I was standing on the street with the neighbor boy and my mother looked at us from the car. I took a step forward and turned my head to the wrong direction and next to me I could hear a horrible squeak of tires and brakes. In my distress I looked at a Mercedes star a meter away at the height of my nose on the bow of the car. I looked at my mother in the car as her tears flowed down her eyes. The driver of the car got up trembling from the car. The driver shook in his place as my mother rushed down the street crying. The neighbor boy stood in place looking at me. I walked to school with the driver and my mother left to find out the situation. In the evening my father walked me through the streets and taught me to look at the sides and crossing the street.

Our house had an open fireplace. I lived with my brother in the same room where the open fireplace was. It was an open fireplace made of fine antique red bricks. In front of the fireplace there was a large round globe. It could be rotated in a rack, and it had lights inside so every state shone around the dark blue seas. I liked to spin it often at a wild pace on a rack, and lifted the globe above my head until it was taken out of my reach so that I wouldn t hurt myself with it.

Back then in the childhood and adolescence phase I did not notice that.

We lived in the same room with my brother, our school desks facing each other, and we slept next to each other in a large bed. My brother liked to read and do a lot of homework, I liked to gig in my chair and read cartoons. I sometimes peed in my sleep in our wardrobe, and my brother was angry about it. I pushed sticks into the key slot on the front door of our house, and my dad fixed it in the evening whilst cursing and shouting at me. My mother pulled my hair, and my father hit me with twigs on my butt. I threatened, and thought about killing my father for that good. I also pushed my tongue into the snow shovel in the frost, and my sister removed it from the front of my face with a cup of warm water. On one new year, together with the other boys in the neighborhood, we put fireworks in someone s resident s mailbox, and I had to go with my parents to listen to the scolding about the burnt post. I always had to read the Bible at the Christmas table due to my mother s demands at Christmas.

My school performance was poor compared to my sister and brother. They got good grades, but I didn t understand what I was reading. I went through my school with bad grades. My mother talked to me and the others, me having to start as a hairdresser to continue her business. She always talked about me continuing it, I was literally brainwashed into it.

A girl was born to our family, I got a little sister. I was 10-11 years old at the time. Our home was expanded, and my brother and I moved downstairs to our own rooms.

After my mother had given birth, she started getting weird talk. We listened at the dinner table when my mother told us she was going to die. She wrote a farewell letter to my little sister, and we were all puzzled.

My mother began to accuse our Father that my father had killed her. None of us understood why. My father had to defend himself against my mother s delusions. In the washroom, my mother beat my father with a steam bucket. Their shared double bed was demolished and they slept in different beds. My father was also not allowed to eat at the same dining table, and no longer even to be in the same premises with my mother and sisters upstairs. My father came downstairs to my room to sleep, and my brother and I were getting food for him from the upstairs fridge as he came home from work. Eventually, my dad had to leave our house to live elsewhere with his old Volvo and trailer. My parents divorced, and I felt relieved then. Our home was in the name of us children, so the sale of the apartment was no question. My older sister did not study peace when my mother bashed my father and claimed my father had killed my mother. Since then, my sister and brother went to another city to study at universities. I stayed with my little sister and my sick mother to live in our big house. I lived downstairs, and they were upstairs.

Once when I got home from school, my mom sat in the kitchen smoking a cigarette, something she hadn t done before. My mom had bought a big ball of cabbage from the grocery store and put the bath around her head. Inside the bath, my mother had wrapped cabbage leaves, and she tied the cabbage leaf bath to her head. In our home, the smell of aged, spoiled cabbage upstairs began to be constant. As my schoolmate visited me, they asked if my mother had a toothache after seeing my mother in the gauze bath on her head. I just replied, she probably has a sore cabbage. Neither did I myself know what was wrong with my mother.

I went to the final stages of my school somehow. Occasionally in the mornings, I went to a nearby forest to read cartoons, and waited until my mother had gone to work at her barber shop and taken my little sister to a nursing home. I went back to my house to sleep. However, I got through my school with bad grades when the teachers said they wouldn t leave me in class so they didn t have to watch me there anymore.

After my schooling at the age of 15, I went to the barber shop owned by my mother to work as an intern. There were four other women who had been with my mother for years, experienced workers in the industry. They warned me not to come there to work. They had already noticed my mother s illness, and had already quarreled over their employment there. My mother slept in the back room of her barber shop, and she told us our father had killed her. She often visited many different doctors and made criminal reports to authorities about my father. Those four employees resigned at the same time.

I stayed at the barber shop as an intern, and I transported and cared for my little sister. I always carried her with me, I didn t want to leave my little sister alone with my sick mother. I did barber work for people at a cheap trainee price. In the previously very successful barber shop, customers had also disappeared. Customers went elsewhere when they saw our state, and people s rumors circulated about operations there. I didn t care about the rumors, and I didn t even understand them. People s rumors... I just laughed, and I did what I could for a cheaper fee. With newspaper ads, I got some work there.

I often went for a walk with my little sister in my hometown, and we always moved in different shops buying some small articles. I heard a laugh about myself and my mother s condition, but that too quickly ended. I saw other people s understanding, support, and compassion for us. I also noticed that the authorities visited our shop, our situation was monitored.

My schoolmate moved to live near my home. He always came to visit us after my work. We were best friends. We listened to music, and a lot of new music was played during that time. Good artists were born all over the world, and the music industry in my country also grew. I always listened to music, but I didn t understand the message of the songs. My friends and I watched a lot of movies, and we spent time together constantly. We often took my little sister with us. We took care of my little sister together. When my friend complained that he had nothing to do during the day, I suggested he d come to my mother s barber shop for work. That would give one an internship salary. He was immediately interested, and so...
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