“ There is poison everywhere, said the carnivorous plant (…)”
Even in the sweetness of a children’s story, in a colourful but angry world.
Part I: Koalas, Fairies and Moustaches
Chapter 1 of a nameless story:
Bordering the immaculate splendour of the Lake of Milk, there were only beer drinkers. Adam felt that it was a shame to waste such beauty, such effort by Nature on these blind and insensitive beings.
Adam was a young boy of a useless age, who lived in this region alone, without parents and with few friends. He loved this place as much as one can love the place in which he is born, the place that one knows the best on the earth and that knows you in spite of itself. It is for that reason that Adam was annoyed by those who did not see its beauty as they tread all over it in their dirty cowboy boots. The beauty though was very difficult not to see! As golden clouds hung over the Lake of Milk the entire surrounding forest acquired a divine quality, as though spat straight from the mouth of an artist. Adam’s house was not far from the lake. It was halfway between a house and a hut, made of wood and rocks. Wood constituted the majority of the structure: the interior and one part of the exterior walls. Rocks reinforced the foundations and were above all the principle decoration of the garden. Adam would have fun stacking several of these round flat stones to create strange structures that gave his dwelling a very particular character. From the first floor where he had made himself a small balcony, he enjoyed watching the Lake of Milk and its enthusiastic movements. The creature that lived within was the cause of these. Da Pulp, as it was called in Adam’s village, was a giant Cyclops octopus, violet and violent but passionate about the arts. Well we assumed so; nobody as yet had been able to speak to it. Ah the mysteries of the Lake of Milk, it was, “an angelic mark between the mountains”, Adam would say complacently. Its reflected pearly white made him dreamy and would make him forget the truth, the large distance that separated him from the beautiful mountains. Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam was bored here, in his village. All that awoke within him the spirit of adventure was formally prohibited by the B.I.T.C.H, the Bureau of International Territories and their Continued Hatred. It is for that reason that he had to be content with observing the Lake from afar, powerless against the beer drinkers who were defiling the place of his dreams. So Adams read a lot, it was his way of liberating himself. He taught himself History, Geography and all the myths and legends about the bordering territories, near and far, of the village. The forest for example was inhabited by a magical population, mysterious fairies, talking Koalas, huge Trolls… The forest though was also out of reach for Adam. Adam who at present closed his book and notebook.
Chapter II of an absurd tale
It was covered with sweat that Nate woke up this morning, a sad and shit morning like all the others. He was still waking from one of his rainbow nightmares: he was dreaming of an ultimate happiness and the impossibility, the unreal happiness made him sad. It was like a black hole into which he would plunge half awake.
Nate was a young adult, full of good will and love for others that he would distribute in little handmade packets. His parents died much too early, devoured by a creature who lived over the mountains. Since, Nate had been obliged to look after himself, learning by reading the Manual of Life by Magnus Corradi and making a living by selling musical pizzas by the roadside. He was well liked in his village and considered likely to be the future chief because of his brilliant intellect but free spirit. A free spirit, but an occupied one: Nate thought only of vengeance and was therefore deaf to the wants of the villagers. He wanted only to find that infamous creature and destroy it. However as potential chief it was Nate’s duty to take interest in the problems that worried the villagers and that logically, should worry him as well. One problem in particular menaced the tranquillity of the village: The Great Apple that fed the whole village was about to be invaded by a very rare type of ant. Therefore, deprived of their principle, only source of energy, the villagers would waste away in the blink of an eye and that would be the end, the end of everything. A reaction was necessary.
Nate though had already planned his departure; he had left his altruism on the doorstep following a nasty fight. He was preparing his things in his small house on the outskirts of the village. In a few days, he would be gone. “They will be fine without my love”, he told himself, “without my bloody musical pizzas too”. His gaze suddenly fell upon some old photos that were hung on the wall facing his bed on which his things were piled. It seemed as though the frames were held up by spider’s webs. In one, his family, dressed with their adventurer’s clothing, smiling, having just caught a large catfish, hairy, with claws and fins. Those kinds of creatures are not found in the Lake of Milk nor in the surrounding areas that shows that Nate’s parents were great travellers. In another photo…in another Clémence was laughing, magnificent Clémence. A girl who was half candy half poison, like a piece of caramel stuck between your teeth, a piece of gum on your shoe, she had been like a parasite for many years. It is for that reason that Nate preferred to forget her. He closed his eyes for a moment, enough to erase Clémence’s image that gave him a wink before disappearing. He continued to pack his things…He would leave soon.
Chapter III of a carefree fable
It was the decisive element, that which made him decide to take flight. Adam found a sea horse, something very rare, on the side of a path while he was exploring the borders decided by the B.I.T.C.H. With stars in his eyes, magnetically drawn towards the forest and the other inaccessible places that his books had allowed him to imagine only just, he bent down and came upon this little seahorse that made him smile larger than he had his whole life. It must be said that to have a seahorse, and particularly in Adam’s isolated village, had incredible possibilities. Adam already felt the virtues of the seahorse moving within him. He ran to tell Virginie, one of his only friends, buoyed up by indescribable joy. On arrival in the village though, he had a sense that something was wrong, this just as the sun was setting as though the night had decided to dampen his happiness. Indeed, he received the bad news clearly as he entered the beautiful room of the equally beautiful Viriginie. Between her diaphanous drapes casting a faint pink glow, on the half made bed, there lay a letter written on a withered flower, addressed to him.
• My Dear Adam, the Mr. Moustaches arrived just before you left, you must leave, and you must hide your seahorse.
Dumbfounded by these words, Adam stopped reading the letter. How the hell could she have know that he would find a seahorse this afternoon?
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