E.B.E. 21- the Hunt
Page 31
He sighed, another grieving soul. He had, he was honest, accompanied so many mourners, it did not matter one more or less, although he had been looking forward to his armchair in his room. He sat next to Ibby and waited.
At some point Ibby stopped crying, sniffing, blowing his nose and looking at the altar with tearstained eyes.
"I am Brother Frederick," the old man's voice resounded next to her. Shocked, she turned her face to him. The old man looked into her face, looked at it closely, but was not frightened. If it is not in the Bible, come here to me, all you who are troubled! In the opinion of Brother Frederick, there was no exclusion, all is called all. That also applied to aliens. That was Frederick's belief. "Can I help you?" Ibby looked at the old man with big eyes. She growled. She hissed. The man was not to be disturbed. "I'm not afraid of you," he said, "I've been on this earth far too long. I just want to know if I can help."
Ibby stared at the sanctuary again, then shook his head.
"So," Brother Frederick said, "You don't want to talk. But it doesn't matter. I think I understand what this is about." He looked at Ibby sharply. "Did someone die?"
Ibby nodded.
"And you loved him or her, didn't you?"
"I loved him. I loved him, I killed him, and my hearts stop beating."
Ibby looked back at the sanctuary.
Brother Frederick didn't really care. He wasn't here to judge; he was here to comfort. Nevertheless, he waited until the strange creature had calmed down a bit. He also looked at the sanctuary and thought that only a being with a conscience and a form of intelligence would cry. So here, he thought, he could presuppose both.
He watched Ibby for a few moments as she bent forward and took a plastic can out of her backpack. She opened the can and pulled out a handkerchief. With devotion, Ibby led the cloth to her nose and sucked in the air.
"What does the handkerchief smell like? Perfume or aftershave? Soap?" Brother Frederick looked at her questioningly. Ibby nodded. After a moment, she held the scarf on his face. Brother Frederick smelled a breath of aftershave. "His aftershave?" he wanted to know. "Yes," Ibby sighed. "It's his aftershave."
She smelled the scarf again. Brother Frederick saw thick tears rolling down Ibby's cheeks. "Young lady," Brother Frederick began and caught a cold look from Ibby. "You know what?" he asked, "Shall I help you so that the pain slowly subsides? It doesn't work right away. It'll take a while. But believe me, it'll get better."
"How?" Ibby asked.
"Give me the handkerchief," Brother Frederick said, and Ibby growled again. This time it sounded like a big animal. Unimpressed, Brother Frederick reached for the it, Ibby held it tight and bared her claws. Brother Frederick wouldn't let go and looked Ibby in the face. "Give me the cloth," he repeated. "Look, after two, three days, the smell's gone from him. Then you won't smell anything. After another two or three days, it will smell like you. But you'll always smell the smell of the aftershave, even when there's nothing left. Come forward to the altar. See that big candle over there? We'll light the handkerchief on the candle and burn it. Then you always know where it is. You can't lose it."
Ibby slowly let go of the cloth and followed the old man to the candle at the altar. The old man held the cloth to the flame, it went up in flames and the man laid the cloth on the altar, then swept the ashes with one hand into his other hand, gave the ashes to Ibby and asked her to throw the ashes into the wind in front of the portal.
Ibby sobbed when she had that little pile of ash in her hand.
"Go now and go in peace. I hope you can say goodbye and start a new life." Ibby looked at him, kept quiet for a moment, then said, "Never, until I take revenge."
Brother Frederick shrugged his shoulders. It wasn't his job. He looked into the swollen face of the strange woman standing there with her backpack on her back in front of him, holding a pile of ash in one hand. "Thank you," Ibby said.
Brother Frederick nodded.
Ibby turned around and walked slowly toward the portal, stepped outside. In the meantime, it had become dark. People hurried over the cathedral plate, nobody noticed her when she threw the ashes into the wind.
She looked around.
Nobody looked at her.
She was alone again.
She pulled the straps of her backpack tighter, then walked towards the stairs, faster and faster, then jumped down the stairs.
She looked again at the cathedral, then she merged with the darkness as if she had never existed.
Epilog II
Dear reader!
As you may have noticed, English is not my native language. I didn't have the resources to have the novel translated by a professional editor. I put a lot of effort into the translation and I am very grateful to my daughter for correcting and proofreading the English manuscript. Without her, it would not have been possible to publish the novel in English. Please be forgiving and understanding if you find any mistakes. If you liked the novel, I would be very happy about a good review on Amazon.
I wrote this novel during the NaNoWriMo 2018. It was a rewarding challenge that I enjoyed very much. You will find a lot of information about this event on the Internet.
The brewery (Brauhaus) Suenner is located in Cologne (Koeln-Kalk). The beer (named Koelsch) of the Suenner Brewery is delicious. Mike had spoiled his stomach because he had underestimated the beer, as it happens to many people who are not used to drink Koelsch, the beer brewed only in Cologne. It couldn't have been the food.
For the sake of drama, I have taken some liberties with regard to the architecture of the brewery. It looks different than described, but the basement exists.
The Gingerbread Street does not exist in Cologne.
I thank my proofreaders, Mr. Jan Alexander Schmitz and Mrs. Jennifer Bueschges for the time-consuming proofreading of the German manuscript and the respectful criticism. I have tried to incorporate everything that has been criticized.
The characters and the plot of this novel are, of course, fictitious. Any similarities with actual events or living or deceased persons would be purely coincidental and are in no way intended.
(True Story:
At the beginning of February 2019 my son and I went from the subway station in Köln-Kalk to the Suenner brewery to drink a few beers. It was around 5 p.m., the weather was quite warm but cloudy.
A couple came towards us and walked past us.
The man was wearing blue working clothes, the woman was slightly smaller, very slim, with a Norwegian cap on her head, thick sunglasses on her nose and the chin hidden in a scarf ...)
* * *
[1] A large Hill in the Palatinate.
[2] An old title of nobility.
[3] A broadcaster in Cologne.
[4] A broadcast from the WDR.
[5] A waiter.
[6] The beer only brewed in Cologne.
[7] A shopping Mall in Cologne.
[8] A very narrow alleyway in Cologne.
[9] A beautiful landscape in the south of Germany.