Sorry, my abysmal audience, I have been forced far from you by my circumstances.
Board exams loom ahead, and I spend a lot of my time lost in the conundrum that is twelfth-grade chemistry.
Well, I still try.
This is the first of two parts of a story that i have wanted to write for a very long time.
The second will be posted soon .(I hope)
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Belgium,1944.
Somewhere in the countryside, near the ruins of what had once been a small town before the war, stood a lone stately home.
In it, lived an eight-year-old boy, Joachim, with his mother.
His father was a minister, and they had been hidden here by the government, lest Brussels fell to the Reich.
Joachim didn't get to see him much, unlike the old days.
Whenever he did happen to drop in, Joachim would bombard him with questions.
Questions about his classmates back in Brussels,about their old neighborhood,questions about his old nanny;questions his father couldn't bear to answer, for he knew better than most,that his dear Brussels lay in ruins, that they had left just in time, just before the Blitzkreig began.
Joachim's mother was a strong woman, able enough to run a house on her own, despite having lived the life of an aristocrat.
She had once served as the headmistress of the finest school in Brussels, L'academie Delacroix. Now the only student in her care was her son, whom she taught for hours on end, knowing that it was her education that had brought her into the upper echelons of society, to her husband, and ultimately to this secluded home, tucked safely away from the Nazi blitzkreig.
Joachim was a bright little fellow, and was quite at ease with his lessons.
But for him, his day began only after he stowed away his books and pencils in the big cupboard by the kitchen.
Every day, soon after his midday meal of chicken soup and bread, he would go off and explore the ruins that stood so desolate next to his own lively home.
His mother didn't mind, she knew no-one was to be found in the ghost town, and besides, it gave her some much-needed time for herself, to write in her diary, to think of the past and the future, and to hone her skills at her new found hobby, gardening.
Joachim was making his way through a the first house in a ruined row of six, all joined together for some strange reason.
He climbed up a flight of stairs,and found himself in a room like any other.
Dust and grime, are all that live within these walls, he thought to himself.
All of a sudden, something caught his eye.
A trapdoor.
There is something, I'm not sure what, about the very word trapdoor, which pumps fuel to the lamp of adventure which shone especially bright within our young protagonist.
Unable to contain his curiosity, he pulled down on one of its corners, and a ladder swung down into view.
He clambered nimbly up the ladder, and found himself in a long dark attic, running unbroken through all six houses.
It was too dark to see, besides he could hear his mother calling for him as night approached.
He ran back home, promising himself that he would return the next day, armed with his mother's electric torch.
------------------------------
ciao(for now)
Board exams loom ahead, and I spend a lot of my time lost in the conundrum that is twelfth-grade chemistry.
Well, I still try.
This is the first of two parts of a story that i have wanted to write for a very long time.
The second will be posted soon .(I hope)
-------------------------------------------------
Belgium,1944.
Somewhere in the countryside, near the ruins of what had once been a small town before the war, stood a lone stately home.
In it, lived an eight-year-old boy, Joachim, with his mother.
His father was a minister, and they had been hidden here by the government, lest Brussels fell to the Reich.
Joachim didn't get to see him much, unlike the old days.
Whenever he did happen to drop in, Joachim would bombard him with questions.
Questions about his classmates back in Brussels,about their old neighborhood,questions about his old nanny;questions his father couldn't bear to answer, for he knew better than most,that his dear Brussels lay in ruins, that they had left just in time, just before the Blitzkreig began.
Joachim's mother was a strong woman, able enough to run a house on her own, despite having lived the life of an aristocrat.
She had once served as the headmistress of the finest school in Brussels, L'academie Delacroix. Now the only student in her care was her son, whom she taught for hours on end, knowing that it was her education that had brought her into the upper echelons of society, to her husband, and ultimately to this secluded home, tucked safely away from the Nazi blitzkreig.
Joachim was a bright little fellow, and was quite at ease with his lessons.
But for him, his day began only after he stowed away his books and pencils in the big cupboard by the kitchen.
Every day, soon after his midday meal of chicken soup and bread, he would go off and explore the ruins that stood so desolate next to his own lively home.
His mother didn't mind, she knew no-one was to be found in the ghost town, and besides, it gave her some much-needed time for herself, to write in her diary, to think of the past and the future, and to hone her skills at her new found hobby, gardening.
Joachim was making his way through a the first house in a ruined row of six, all joined together for some strange reason.
He climbed up a flight of stairs,and found himself in a room like any other.
Dust and grime, are all that live within these walls, he thought to himself.
All of a sudden, something caught his eye.
A trapdoor.
There is something, I'm not sure what, about the very word trapdoor, which pumps fuel to the lamp of adventure which shone especially bright within our young protagonist.
Unable to contain his curiosity, he pulled down on one of its corners, and a ladder swung down into view.
He clambered nimbly up the ladder, and found himself in a long dark attic, running unbroken through all six houses.
It was too dark to see, besides he could hear his mother calling for him as night approached.
He ran back home, promising himself that he would return the next day, armed with his mother's electric torch.
------------------------------
ciao(for now)
