LiTTLE CHERiNE Book 03 - post056

I suddenly saw myself among a crowd, yet I could not see any of them clearly, but I could see the one they were killing. They, and I, the boy - or the older one, was killing an angel. As it struggled, with wings spread out, it was torn to pieces and I echoed the distress of the boy as I shot back into my own mind.

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1573

I needed to get away from the boy in the box so urgently that I scrambled on my hands and knees for the first two yards, before getting to my feet and running to Aganthi. If she had not stopped me, I would have teleported both of us back home.
“You are safe Lillian, you are safe, Roberto is coming, we must wait for him.”
I sobbed, “He killed an angel!”
“An angel? There are no…how could he do it, he is just a boy.”
“I saw it in his mind, Aganthi. They tore off its wings and then ripped the body apart.”
I sensed Robert next to me and then heard his voice, “May I share what you saw?”
I let him share all of it and as he walked away from us, Aganthi folded me within her arms, her emoting trying to soothe me.
Robert turned back. “The two of you wait here or go home if you want, I need to check on the boy.”
Suddenly I was no longer crying and shaking, I don’t know why, but I was angry - whether with me or Robert, I don’t know. “No! he is mine, I will check on him, you wait here.” He nodded and leant against the wall, his eyes following me as I went to the box and, talking gently, I opened the cardboard entrance and looked at the boy. He did not look twelve years old, more like nine or ten, but he is twelve! He looked up at me and I was pleased to see that he did not cower from me.
“Give me your hand. We are going to get something to eat and a cold drink.” I gently coaxed for a while and then calmly waited, giving him time to ground himself back within the real world. When he finally gave me his hand, I felt as if a miracle had happened. I deliberately forced back the distaste I felt for touching the hand I had seen helping to kill an angel and only emoted a feeling of calm and safety.
Robert and Aganthi joined us at the taverna, but sat at another table. I did not ask the boy and ordered food for him and a plate of fried chips for me. The waiter avoided coming close to the boy and I could not blame him, for there was the fetid stench of something going rotten, plus the kid has probably never used toilet paper - I don’t even want to imagine what that means. I sensed that Robert is helping me by toning down the reaction of the customers, staff and the owner of the taverna, for many of them wanted to object to the boy eating in the taverna.
“My name is Lilliana, do you have a name?” He ignored me and reached for the salt. He poured some onto his filthy hand and licked it - and I winced when I saw a patch of cleaner skin where he had licked. I decided that talking to him will only make him tense and I want him to get all the benefit of the meal, so I sat back and tried not to watch him eat when the food arrived. I’m not much of a singer, so I hummed a few recent songs (English, I’m not that into Greek songs), rightly judging that my seeming to be relaxed will lessen his tension.
Once the boy had finished his meal, Robert spoke into my mind, *What do you want to do with him? You can bring him home, or, if you like, we have a free apartment that we keep for visiting Cherinians.*
I asked, *Was it you he killed in his mind?*
I sensed he was startled by my question. He then sent me a pleased smile. *I don’t think so, but you could be right about the angel being only imaginary - I really don’t think it was an actual angel.*
Aganthi said, *Do you think it was only imaginary because it kept on blurring? Roberto, my healer says that what we saw of the insides of the body seemed very real.*

1574

I think I made a mistake because I was being selfish. I chose to take him to the apartment and asked the girls to move some of my things for me. The girls also bought him some clothes while he was taking a bath and they took the opportunity to advise me, pointing out that he probably has not had a mother for much of his life and I should try to be like one for him. He got an erection when I walked into the bathroom with his clothes and I pretended I did not see, but it was a good warning that I must be careful, he is too old and more knowledgeable than a boy of his age should be. If I play at being a mum with him, I’ll have to hold back on too many hugs - especially none prolonged more than a few seconds. Anyway, before I can feel like giving him any hugs or being like a mother, I need to know more about the images I shared from his mind.
I can’t do any of those fancy things Robert can, like going to play games in the mind of another, so I decided to mostly use my Cherinian abilities to guide me, so that I can do what I do as if I am just a normal, but sensitive woman.

Two days and all I’ve managed to get out of him is the name Sergio and that his mother was Greek, but his father was from Rumania - all of it is another lie. He is bothering to lie because he wants to prolong his stay and has decided he must appease me in little ways, maybe also tempt me to let him stay by appearing harmless and vulnerable. Of course, while it is available, he is eating all he can and for a stunted little runt, the amount of food he can eat is unbelievable. He’ll wolf down anything I give him, but I am hoping that as he begins to grow more comfortable with me, he’ll get over his need to eat all he can and start to ask for what he likes. Can I treat that moment as an indication that he will start to answer more of my questions and maybe some of the answers will be true?
What has not changed over these five days is the number of slip-out-of-reality nightmares he has. I cannot just call them nightmares, for most of them happen while he is awake, once even while he was telling me, in gruesome detail, how, when he was ‘little’, he dug up the soil next to a leak in a sewerage pipe and collected the worms, because he was told they are full of fat and they’ll help him survive. He spent days on his own, vomiting and dirtying himself, too weak to do more than drink from some dirty rainwater pool.
I can sense him studying me, obviously looking for some horrified kind of reaction from me when he tells me these stories, which indicates there is an awareness that life for others is not as horrific as his has been, but I have not told him I have a younger brother who has a pretty gruesome imagination…sometimes, so I have a secret advantage over him.
Today he said his father was Italian and he asked for spaghetti again. I made the spaghetti and as he ate it, I told him, “You did not give me enough notice, so all you get is spaghetti. If you let me know in advance next time you want spaghetti, I’ll trap a few rats and add strips of their flesh to your spaghetti. Of course, if you happen to start giving me a few honest answers, maybe I’ll buy some chicken or beef to add to the meal.”
He must have given it a lot of thought, and my sense humour must have appealed to him, for he came to me where I sat reading on the balcony. “If I answer one question with the truth, can I choose what I eat tonight? Will you buy it for me?”
I pretended to seriously consider his offer and then asked, “If I am only to get one honest answer, then the question I choose must be important? Are you certain you will tell me the truth?”
He shifted, uneasily, then nodded his agreement, but his eyes were now wary.
In a stern voice, I asked, “Do you prefer chicken or beef - and, I’m going to cheat and ask a second question, would you prefer me to cook for you or would you like to go to a taverna."
I instantly knew I had scored, but he craftily replied, “I only promised one honest answer, so…I prefer the taverna. For the second question, I prefer beef.”
“Fine, taverna it is…and I’ll order you a grilled chicken with chips.” He actually gave a little smile in appreciation of my guessing correctly his real meaning.
That night, for the first time in a long while, I went to sleep feeling pleased with myself.

Both Teller families are amused by the fact that two weeks have passed and I still have not earned his real name. Perhaps what I have earned is more important. He may not answer the questions I feel are important, but he has begun to work his way towards asking me the questions which are important to him. For a moment, today, I became excited. He looked at the book I was reading and when I glanced away from the book, at him, he told me the book is not in Greek and wanted to know what language it is. I thought it meant he can read. I asked and he blushed.
“I have not been to school, I can’t read, but I can see the letters are different.”
“I enjoy reading stories in English. Majijama, would you like to learn how to read?”
“You made up that name, it sounds silly.”
“I don’t think so. You see, I have worked out that you are not really from Greece, I think you are from some secret country nobody knows, and you were sent to spy on us. I also think you should send them a report about the worms, telling them how delicious they are, especially if dipped in something that looks like chocolate, but I guess you can’t, until you learn to read and write.”
Keeping a serious look on his little face, he answered, “I don’t have to learn to read, I could tell you what to write and you could write my…report for me.”
“Hmm, I like that idea. Since you won’t be able to read what I write, I can say whatever I want and when they answer I can tell you the opposite of what they said. That way, you’ll be their spy and I’ll be a spy for Greece.”
I’ve found one of his buttons and he has found mine. He has the wild imagination and sense of humour I enjoy and by us playing, he reminds me of my brother, who I miss, so I’ve grown fond of him. Apart from his physical scars, which show he has lived a tortured life, he has been psychologically scarred, layer upon painful layer of them, and I find it remarkable that after such experiences he has retained such a mischievous sense of humour.
He has asked to keep the name Majijama as his real name. I agreed, but kept my fingers crossed, as I still am waiting to learn his real ‘real’ name.

1575

I was very excited and asked everyone to share from me. Dommi, my Dominique and Robert, confirmed what I’d seen, it had not been born of my own imagination or need to find a solution. They all showed wonderful empathy (restraint), waiting for me to spout my own theories first.
Here is what happened: I was struggling to understand what Majijama was telling me, while also reaching out to sense his emoting, when he slipped into his nightmare fugue or vision. Just for the first split second, I saw the angel as a normal person, not as an angel. He was a boy, younger than Majijama.
*I think the boy must have been someone Majijama loved. The question which troubles me, is why he would take part in killing the boy and ripping his body apart? But I think the angel form is something he created so as to avoid facing the fact that he could do something so horrible to a person he loves.*
I sensed Themi nod, as he added, *We need more information Lillian, but I agree, what you saw is important, but, keep in mind that for the moment, it is only a key for unlocking a door in his mind which will lead us to the full truth…or as much of it as he knows.*
I did not answer him, for I felt sad for Themi, that despite being a specialist and a professor, he could not see the truth, while I, because of my practical nature, could. I knew he is wrong, that what I saw is not just a key to finding the truth; it is an important and integral part of the truth. If anyone sensed how I felt, they did not comment.

“Majijama, you say you don’t remember your parents, what about brothers or sisters? Do you have any?”
I was shocked when he flew into a rage, hitting things as he shouted at me, “Stop calling me that stupid name!”
I forced myself not to respond, only glancing at him now and then. As I’d hoped, he calmed down and felt guilty. Finally he said, “My name is Pano; I don’t know my other name.” I sensed he was telling me the truth.
“Pano, thank you for trusting me. Since you have told me your secret, would you like me to tell you one of mine?”
Abruptly he replied, “No.”
I grinned. “Why not?”
“Because you will then say I must tell you another one and you’ll never stop!” As I was about to answer, he flew into a rage again. “Stop it, leave me alone!” Dommi sent to me that I should remain silent, but without looking angry. He went to his bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Hours later he came out, went to the kitchen for a cold drink and then sat opposite me, staring at me. “Why are you helping me and why do you want to know about me - I’m nothing, just rubbish and I know the day will come when you get tired of playing at being nice to me and throw me out!”
“I used to live in a country called England. I was stupid and believed a man when he told me he loves me and ended up getting pregnant. I decided I must move far away and bring up the baby on my own and because he was rich, I asked him to help me with a small amount every month so as to help with the costs of bringing up his child. As I talked, he moved, walking up and down, and when he was behind me he stuck a knife into my chest. It cut into my lungs and I could not breathe and as everything turned black, I think I was mostly suffering pain from the thought that for just a little money, he preferred to kill me, that the man I loved not only did not love me, but also wanted me dead. Luckily another man saved my life, but I lost my baby.” He was now staring into my eyes, all his anger forgotten, caught up in the drama of my story, though I sensed he was not certain I am telling him the truth.
“It is one thing to know that you are not loved. It can be hard to bear, especially when your own heart loves, but, to know that someone wants you dead, just because you are an inconvenience, it destroyed my heart Pano, I can’t forget and I keep on expecting everyone to also show me they don’t care for me.” By now tears were streaming down my cheeks, so he finally believed me.
He waited as I struggled to take control of myself again. I then told him, “The day I found you, you were inside a box and you were having a nightmare…something about killing an angel. All I could think is, this boy, he is like me, nobody cares for him, and my heart hurt me so that I had to take you from there and try to give you a new life, with a reason for hoping.” I shrugged. “Who knows, I did not expect it, but maybe I was also hoping you will grow to care about me.”
“San filoi? (as friends?)”
“As whatever you want, you tell me.”
“Maybe.” I waited. “Lilliana, will you keep it a secret? I want my mother…I am sure she loved me, but I was taken from her.” Then the little boy in him asked, “Can I see the scar on your chest?”
I pretended to be shocked. “I am not showing you my breast!” He blushed and I grinned. “We both have been too sad, let’s go out to the zaharoplasteio for some pastries.” For a little while I was able to distract him, to even manage to make him smile a time or two. I had the extra pleasure of sensing the approval and pleasure in the girls as they shared from me. I often forget they can, until something like this happens and they make me feel them inside me - and then it makes me feel a bit shy for a while. Later, as Panos was sleeping, my thoughts went to my family and I was almost nostalgic for the cheekiness of my brother. It is nearly a year since I’ve spent time alone with him (our fight does not count, as he only entered the room to tell me what he thinks and then he left), at his age, he must have changed quite a bit by now.

Pano has never been to Kifissia, never mind sit at one of their coffee shops - he explained he never went there as it is not ‘his’ area and if those who ‘own’ the spots think he has come there to beg, they will give him a very bad beating, some will even knife any kid who tries to trespass on a spot belonging to them.
With his hair nicely cut and wearing nice clothes, Pano was not nervous as he walked by my side. The beggars of Kifissia do not know him, so there was no misunderstanding…as far as that goes. The amusing side to my story is that Robert and all his girls are all well known as they always give the kids some money and take them to the local takeaway for hot food, and they recognised me. Pano emoted how incredulous he felt at seeing them fawn over me and the friendly banter as the kids almost led me to the takeaway.

1576

At the coffee shop we sat amongst the usual clientele, some even look very wealthy, and Pano quietly tried to puzzle out how it can be that an ordinary girl like me can be known here.
“It is a long way from the apartment to here, do you come here often?”
“The apartment is not my home, I live close to this area. Pano, I cannot take you there, not yet.”
“When?”
“Once you have decided to trust me and allow me to help you.”
“But…I did.”
“Pano, the angel…it is important I know more so that I can help you stop seeing it dying. That was what I meant.”
He looked at his hands and there was a trembling inside him as he told me, “But it did die, I helped kill it…my hands were covered with blood.” He whispered, “I can still see it. Lilliana, I don’t know why…why did I do it?”
“Pano, please do not get upset, try to remember that I am trying to help you. I spoke to a good friend who is also a special doctor and he told me that the angel did not exist, that it was a young boy - and for some reason you have been thinking of him as an angel…maybe because you felt it was wrong to kill the boy because he was young and like an angel?”
My Cherine sent to me that I must wait, without trying to bring Pano out of his shock. She said that Prime Robert has arranged for Dommi to come with the car and in the meantime Manoli will be arriving to carry Pano out of the coffee shop. Within a couple of minutes Manoli arrived. Aganthi and Wendy were helping to keep Pano unaware, so he did not react when Manoli carried him out. I was touched when a beggar girl from the traffic light close by, rushed over and told me she will pray for the little boy. I tried hard not to sense her emoting, as I wanted and needed to believe she meant what she said. It is as if I want all the beggar children to be big-hearted like Aganthi. Now that I am not being emotional, I can hope I was wrong, for if I am right, their lives must be unbelievably terrible. It is better that they can close their hearts just a little, for the world is full of those who take pleasure in hurting them.

Themi was already at the house and he extended his senses into Pano. He is allowed to do what I must never do, he is permitted to enter the mind of others when they need help. He searched the memories, so gently that Pano only twitched a few times.
Themi opened his eyes and spoke aloud, “As I thought, he was present at the death of a child - the little boy was too young to survive on his own, but he was not accepted or adopted by any of the groups. Out of desperation he stole from one of the other beggar kids, a girl, and she attacked the child, demanding they help her. She is vicious and cut up the little boy with a knife. Once she calmed down, she realised they will all be in danger if they leave the body to be found, so she made them help her cut it into pieces and each of them had to bury a piece far away from the others. Panos was given a piece, but he did not bury it, he set it on some rocks, as high as he could. When he returned, the piece was gone, so it confirmed for him what he had been feeling…that the little boy was an angel. Two bits of information will help us understand why Pano thought this way: This happened years ago, when Pano, I think, was still only about five or six, at about the time of the publicity of you being an angel and the news spread among the excited beggar children, for it was said among them that the angel came to Athens to save them, to collect them in his arms and take them to heaven.” Themi shook his head. “When Pano told them that they have killed the angel who came to save them, the other kids ridiculed him, but also feared that in his madness he has seen correctly, and not wanting to face their own guilt, they ostracised him and he was not allowed a spot of his own. It is remarkable that he has survived until now!”

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I hope you enjoy reading this story of fantasy, adventure and love - and should some of it be true for our reality, I hope you will love our Cherine.

Αλέξανδρος Ζήνον Ευσταθίου

(Alexander Zenon Eustace)
^{10th September, 2019}

* posted on PALNet - Steemit - WEKU - CreativeCoin: 10th September, 2019