1 Sunday

This little town has always been a dark one. The sun would never show its light in the sky, but neither were there any clouds. Just shadows. Never stars or moons or even a blue celling above. Tall houses and smaller ones, the long street with its high lamps always lit. Never any change or even the need for one. No news or newspapers or crimes to be solved, no interest in politics, no keys in the doors, no pretty gardens around houses, no fear at all about the ghost stories that everybody still seemed to believe. Nothing you could hear was absolutely sure, yet nobody would ever doubt it. It was a grey town and all over it a major lack of secrets ended up in a boredom epidemic. Or so it seemed.

I was just leaving the Church of the Harrowing early one afternoon when a strange car speeded by me and stooped not far away, making a lot of dust. I only knew that moment I had had very few such spectacles, since I could tell exactly how many cars had passed along our only street in the last years. They weren't many. And this one had a rare colour of dark red that was so different from the dusty old building it parked next to. A man got out of it and started to stare at the surroundings. I only realised I was staring as well when he started to study me. I must have looked so funny, stock and still in the middle of the street. I walked another few steps ahead and sat on a bank just across the street from where he was standing. He didn't pay me much attention. The next to come out of the wonder car was a woman of incredible beauty and very smartly dressed, but in a modern way that I myself could never stand. She must have been so important a lady in some of the great cities of the world, perhaps a Rome or a Paris as the ones they say exist somewhere under the sun. But that could just as well not be true, only a story for those that have grown old and sick of our sunless sky and have nothing better to do than sit and listen to any rumour that goes on. I know now that sunny lands do exist, even though I have never seen them myself. Sunny lands and white clouds and even a more beautiful rain than the one that often gets us half wet here. I know now that it was more than a rumour and other cities are forever covered in rainbows. I have been told by someone who saw them and yet he came back. So if he saw them and came back, what was the use for me to go? I've always preferred dreams. I am unable of them now, as I remember all these that I write, and I could never regret my destiny. The only fear that I have left and I am sure it will soon disappear as well, is that the story I lived in this dark little town of mine might yet prove out to be just a dream..

After a few moments of silently enjoying the view, the woman approaches her driver and says something that I cannot hear. He laughs and goes straight to the door of the house, trying its lock.

"Michel, she calls, don't be an idiot. You may need it."

He doesn't hear or care. The door opens with a great noise, I'm sure. I haven't seen that door opened for a hundred years now. But it's still too far and I can't hear. The man steps in and disappears.

"Michael", she calls again, but not very convincingly.

Then she suddenly turns round to me.

"Clear off", I almost hear her say, but I pretend not to and bless the distance. Then I offer her the best of my smiles. I can be incredibly annoying sometimes with my childlike manners. But I make the same impression to her as to her friend, no doubt, and she suddenly acts as if I turned invisible.

Not long after the man she was with comes out again. He's got a huge smile of triumph all over his face and the walk of a victorious warrior.

"Well?" asks the beautiful woman as soon as she sees him. And she glances in some very strange way at the big windows from the house's first floor and attic.

"Nothing, of course. I told you. Someone's just been playing a dirty joke on you."

"That's easy to say but you've seen the letters yourself..." her voice becomes low as the man is getting nearer. He makes a gesture of impatience and suddenly crosses the street towards me. He looks interesting, with his elegant clothes and the tiredness in his eyes, as if his journey here was the last thing he would have ever chosen for a holiday. But it had been obvious to me from the first moment that Michael was here at the desire of the beautiful woman only and he was taking very little interest himself. A nice young man, but I had seen dead people that looked more cheerful than that. He sits down near me and lights himself a white small paper stick that he then places in his mouth. But a longer part of it is still out and makes smoke. Such a funny image it is that I burst out laughing. He looks at me amazed and doesn't know what to say.

"I knew there was a certain colour that would best describe our town, I start more politely, but I was never able to name it until now. Now I know. My town is above all smoky. Like your burning liitle stick."

He smiles back and answers:

"I am glad to have been of help. I am even delighted for I too would like a little help with some information. And since you've spend your whole life in here..." He makes a pause and waves at the lady across the street. She shrugs her shoulders and starts walking in our direction.

"I see there is very few traffic around", continues the stranger and takes another mouth of smoke that he seems to enjoy.

"Yes, sir Michael, and it's always been like this. You and the lady are the only visitors in a long time."

"Interesting", comes the answer.

The woman caught the last of my words.

"Did you introduce yourself?" She asks the man in a grey tone.

"I think you have, instead, my dear, when you shouted at me across the way", Michael answered.

"I thought I told you to leave", continues the lady, this time to me.

"Don't be like that, sweetheart. We really need some information if you still believe the letters are real."

"They are real enough for you too because you read them. And there could be no other author but whom I told you already", she says with the same voice.

He makes a bored sign to her and turns to me.

"How old are you, dear?"

I hesitate.

"I don't know for sure. I must be around 18, but nobody seems to believe when they look at me."

"You are, aren't you! And really beautiful, indeed", smiled Michael, but I think he didn't believe me either.

"So what can you tell?" Asks the woman impatiently.

"What would you like to know?"

"Do you know who lives in this house?" she points at the old walls from the other side.

"Sure, everybody knows. That is rather a simple question", say I.

"Would you mind telling us as well?" asks Michael.

"Just nobody", say I very sure of myself.

There is a moment of deep silence, but I can see how they both exchange the quickest glance I've ever seen. The lady then takes over her friend's smoky device while he explains to me.

"My dear Lucinda is very troubled about an old friend who used to live here... a few years ago he... disappeared and they all assumed he was dead. But we recently hears some rumour about him wondering these places and... here we are", says Michael taking out of his pocket another of his little white sticks.

"You've certainly come to the right place in the matter of rumour", smile I.

"What do you mean?"

"Just something that makes me laugh, lady Lucinda. But if there is any chance of your friend to live still in this house, he must certainly be a ghost."

I thought I'd make them laugh, but that was a really bad joke. Lucinda turns white and I feel terribly ashamed.

"I am so sorry, milady. That was such a foolish thing to say..."

"You see, Lucinda was... very closed to him and if there was any chance that she would see him again..."

I look at the beautiful lady more sympathetic than before. She is silent and stares at the mysterious building.

"I am very sure no one has seen him until. We all know when something interesting does happen".

"Well, my dear, says Michael standing up, we shall be around for a while. We've come a long way and it would be a pity not to take the chance to make us sure, once and for all".

"Certainly, sir Michael. I do hope you shall find what you are looking for, because it looks to me as a very noble quest, if I may say so".

"You are very kind, my dear, he says and offers his arm to the poor lady. We are most grateful".

Lucinda doesn't take her eyes away from the dark window of the house. She is so beautiful and smart and I am so sorry for her misfortune. I don't doubt that she had been more than 'very close' to that lost young man that she came to find. And Michael! He must have a noble spirit to join her into this journey to the past, a past that may get between them if still alive. They get into their car and set off. I should have remembered to warn them there is no place to sleep in the town. Maybe they will find a room at the Church, there are always more empty than ever occupied. The car is already out of sight, vanished. I can't help to look for the last time at the darkness inside the gloomy building, but I am already so tired and caught by their story that I almost see the pale figure of a stranger up behind the attic window's glass.