The Torchbearer is the -work in progress- title of the book I'm writing. The main theme is: life, in it's broadest definition. We are all looking for
"the key". Hapiness, salvation.
The following is an excerpt of my book. I hope you like it and I hope you've got some feedback. There are great writers around here, so I'm awaiting
your response! Please note that I'm a young Dutch guy, so my English is not perfect. Anyway, I love to write in English, so here goes! (You can leave
your introspective hat on, you'll need it
It was a strange reflection we had, there on top of the hill. Nothing could take it away, for it was the divine truth. At least at that very moment.
One deep breath, it'll be alright. It's just the moment. I thought something like "This is it. I've stepped across the borders of insanity. The final
frontier.", but I knew it was only the beginning.
The monkey was still watching a wildlife documentary. The train engineer would soon begin his night duties in this town of insomniac villains. We were
no holy men. No men of renown, no kings of old. No, Nothing of that all. But we were well on our way finding the key. If our adviser was right, which
is very doubtful, we would reach it. Great deeds awaited us....
Chapter 2: Fire in the night/Peace, truth/ Maniac with glasses
I remember the headlines. "Afro-American man kills wife". My first reaction was one of those 'read between the lines' twisters. America still had that
degrading mindset on the likes of Martin Luther King". Racists. But I was no American...... nor did I know that men from the newspaper would become
our advisor. Our transportation on the road to salvation. What was he. A human?...
Chapter 5: Dirty deeds on a night in town.
We arrived early. Club Crocodile was nothing special in this never resting city. Good-looking waiters, throwing faces of hatred when It's time to
close the doors. Yes, this was just a bar, and it was just their job. They were doing what's right. Or weren't they? It sure didn't feel so. A typical
brain twister, when the mind tries to rationalize while emotions peak. High strangeness. Quick, a beer. Hurry, another one. 5 out of 26 cigarettes
left. We were working like madmen with nothing left too lose. It was time for more. We even .. agreed that our souls needed to reach a higher
With a head full of weed, we returned. The ball was rolling, it was fantastic. "Get me some liquor, I’ll be, upstairs. Make it quick." He followed
my instructions, but the drugs got hold of him too...
The conversation started. ,,,, "hmm hmm"
Chapter 6 ... Ghosts from the past.
My place in this world seemed nothing special. I was broke, lost, drunk and high on drugs. For what? It didn't make sense, but in some sick way it
did. I was pushing myself to the limits, keeping my mind sharp with these disgusting yet inspiring Hollywood love stories. Great acting. I didn't need
much to find the limits of possibilities, but the way out was a long one. What is it that makes these grey cells, these masters of control, that other
you, that you've got enough? No backdoors now. Straight to the pit. I fell. They way down was a long one, and a pleasant one indeed. The pain was
quick and penetrating, like the wakeup call from that beautiful hotel maid. I just blocked the door and went my way. But that was not now. Now I was
laying one feet of the track on a cold June night. June? Was it June already? No time to think. 'act', get the facts straight. 'get on those wheels'.
I could see a light in the distance. 'Good Lord, don't let them see me!' I was sure I couldn't handle another encounter with a successful being of the
human race. It would mean total collapse. Vertigo. The party was peaking. Clowns and burglars were playing games inside my skull. Left? Right? Go
straight! I picked up my wheel and jumped on it, but not before I lost control again. Only 60 yards away it was, the light at the end of the road. No
tunnels for me. Not yet....
Words cannot describe the feeling I had at that very moment. That feeling of complete loss, a carefully placed knife, deep in the soul. No, not now,
not yet. Keep your eyes on the road, she doesn't matter. Plenty of fish man. But why didn't I act? Why didn't I have the courage? Or why didn't the
Germans act? Why did the Nazi's do it? How could God allow it? Sin is sin, no matter what. Could it be? Just believe it. God is God, we don't know his
ways. Did the Germans still have the same uniform colors after the war? Would it be possible? What difference did it made for God? Their sins were
known. Even mankind itself made sure they would be held accountable. But forgiving is forgetting. Could I forget myself? No! Wrong way of thinking.
In no way I wanted to include the Third Reich in my thinking, but it made such an inpact that it was the only logical outcome. And God? He was still
the one I looked up to. Thank God.
Chapter 7: ...
Henry, that natural born psychologist of mine was trying to break my mind. He was getting an intense sort of pleasure out of this sick conversation.
Total domination. "It's all scrambled man. You don't get it. Your brain train has derailed. Just like islands in the stream, you fail to make
connections." He was right. He was damn well right. Enjoy that coke and let him drink his beer. You won't need that stuff. I began talking in myself
-to myself- more and more. My sick friend knew it, he was exploiting it. "I don't exist, I'm in your head... just a figment of your imagination. The
people behind the counter are thinking what you're up to with all that beer and soda. Everyone's watching you...". Yes, he was on to me. Spot on. Not
that I thought he was right, no. Just the inner connections. My brain took a hit, many good cells were lost last night. Were the drugs still working?
Was it the booze, crept up in my liver? Technically impossible, that much I knew. But somehow, a strange sensation was manifesting. Weird thoughts
were taking control. Vibes. This is not the meaning of my life, this is not why I'm here. But -it is- my fault... But what would you do? What would
you do when there is a 20 feet giant anaconda looking for a meal, and you're the only living being around. Yes, you'd think for yourself. Survival of
the fittest, but living by the numbers. Twen-ty Feet…
Plagiarism. It was one of my greatest fears. Could it become reality? It was reality, reality until I made something myself. Could I? Stick to
Michelangelo. "Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it." Mankind cannot create. Mankind can only
discover the beauties within the realm of possibilities.
Chapter ## R
Club Crocodile again.
I looked in her eyes, and saw the sea. Endless waves, washing ashore if it were the first waves God created . She was carefully watching everything
around her, yet trying to act experienced with this kind of situation. ”Poor girl, sweet girl” I loved her. “I tell you what, you’ll never get
experienced with this kind of situation”. No, no, no. Saying that would make no sense. But to me, as usual, it did. Am I the only one
understanding her ways of thinking -although I don’t even know her that good- or am I just creating a perfect scenario like the ones you read about
in cheap French novels? Maybe I just pretended she was alone in her life, just like me, maybe I just wanted that to be the situation. I could say “I
love you”, and it would sound like the holy truth for both parties. “Damn you, you fool!” Yes, yes, calm down. You love her and somewhere deep
inside she knows it. “Act”. My mind was spinning. Not because of the alcohol this time, but is it better this way? Tears rolling down her face,
yes, I could see those waves at Iona. Standing high above them. Watching. In awe. My imagination was driving at top speed. Cruising, full steam ahead.
She was emptiness, too alone to make those dreams come true. Yet worn out by the struggles of life. Day after day, she started anew. In a nutshell,
this is her. I knew it. “Did I know her?” I did my best to understand so I could save her, to make her reach her goals. She would make it, but
leave me for another guy. The perfect time for a Bee Gees LP. Trafalgar, their 1971 – after psychedelic- soft rock album brilliantly plays
everything I felt. From “How can you meant a broken heart”, “Don’t wanna live inside myself”. Perfect. But listening makes things only get
And suddenly… The nerves. The nerves came back! At that very moment, magic was in the air. Those nerves -those useless fears- came up, and she had
them too. This time it was for real. Who would be the first to fall?
My mind tricked me into thinking I needed someone to save, and that one happened to be her. My thinking was always fatal, but never so intense as on
that night. It was justice. Fatal justice.
edit on 22-6-2011 by WeZet because: (no reason given)