Hello people! First, I want you to know I'm translating this fiction. It's my own creation but, as I'm French, I'm translating it. It's a damn long fiction (around 25 chapters)… I truly hope you will like it. I've decided to translate it since I've discovered how Supernatural is really popular in the fanfiction world. That why I wanted to translate "Manichaeus" so bad (the title of the original fiction), and here they are, the first chapters. I had a few reviews on the French text – and I'm unsatisfied because I basically need opinions, I accept any - even positive – criticism.
I leave you with "The Messengers of God".
Thank you.
Chapter 1: The end of travel.
My name is Dean and I'll tell you my story.
I spent this day checking the mailbox, the damn postman didn't appear - yet I was expecting some big news. I still do not have the results of my blood tests results. Do not worry about my health, I am okay. Sometimes, I'm not. Like everybody in the world, my chest seems smaller, I can't even expire.
"Don't worry about it, Dean. It's not that serious."
That's what the doctor said, more than once. When you know all about the mountains, every hill around is like the highest peak in the world. I kind of laughed at that thought while pouring my coffee, I added vanilla, and yeah it's so much better like that. The TV is on. It's boring, it talks too much, and did you notice how annoying it is? That flat of mine is still under work. That's what friends say, and that's what you would say. But, I'll be honest with you – I'm not working anymore, and I've never worked here anyway. I came there when Mark asked me to stop that job... D'you know Mark?
"Well, Dean. You can't even wake up in the morning; I think your mind craves peace and quiet. What does your doc says?"
"He said – don't worry about it Dean. No worry."
"Then he's right. No worry, and go home."
Mark's a cool guy and a cool boss. I mean – he was. I do not know what's going on; let's stop asking questions since I can't give an answer. You know about those stupid questions in your head, don't you? Because you're like me. Everyone is like me, but no one dares to speak about it. The sofa receives the graceful shape of my butt and I turn my head to watch the TV, even if I don't like that. The legs of the television presenter are not ugly: she's kind of cute. Without even realizing it, my eyes close, I forget about the coffee on the table. The froth is waiting for me, to Hell with it – I'm busy.
I dozed off, I did not hear the postman and my blood tests, but as I'm still asleep – I'm even drooling, fuck that's gross. The mobile on the table starts to vibrate but I can't see anything. Is that this unknown number, it's calling me again? It's good I'm asleep; I would get nervous about it. Some birds flutter near my window while the presenter unbuttoned her shirt, on the screen. I open one eye, I stand up. I think she's looking at me, actually.
No, I was wrong, forgive me: the presenter is definitely looking at me – well, she has just crossed the screen. It is exciting, the filter does not hide the disgrace of her two legs, and that's what I like. I focus on her small feet. It's really pretty. She grabbed me by the collar; I feel her nails over my poor clothes. Obviously this is nothing but a dream, but it does not stop me to respond so far. I touch her, I only want to please her and you understand me, right? You can't reject the advances of an angel, from heaven or elsewhere. I do feel her breast now, she wears wonderful underwear. This is exactly what I wanted; I cannot take my eyes off these two partially hidden breasts.
When I really opened my eyes, I rubbed them and looked like a drunk owl. My mobile is on the table, I am sitting straight up on the couch. I'm checking it - his name is clear. It's him, again, again and again.
My overheated brain does not think about the chick that came in my room (besides, she disappeared from my living room so fast!) I'm way too paranoid; it's so dear to our species. What should I do, now? What if I call him? Yes? No?
"Nevermind" I said.
I notice snow outside, it surprises me. I'm closer to the window, it's misty. I like to imagine that these are not flakes, but ashes of the hidden sun. I have this feeling I can't feel it despite I want it. I want the sun. In those moments, I totally understand why Mark thought it was right to leave me for a moment. The small flakes are falling ashes, it's me, it's Dean. It's okay, Dean.
"Everything is fine, I'm fine."
I opened the window. The roofs are just below, so I slipped a leg and I decided to do something different – something I used to love when I was a silly kid. That was quite dangerous. Who cares?
"You may tremble before Death, jerk." the voice said, inside my head.
" Dean?"
The girl was in her garden, right here with her two dogs. She stared at me.
In fact, I do not feel shame. I even wanted to invite her to come with me, watching the snowfall. She was not the hot, but I'm not trying to make friends, I only want to spare time.
"Hey…"
"A balcony is missing, she said, crossing her arms, you're going to catch a chill! Do not stay here. You could slide and…And fall!"
She's right.
"It is not very high."
"It's not a reason!"
She laughed and clapped her hands. She wears funny mitts; I thought only children were allowed to wear them. It is shameful compared to my situation, don't you think?
"Have a nice day, Dean."
"Thank You."
Absolute bullshit - and empty conversation.
And there it is, while the flakes scattered my hair, my mind thinks about this call. I will call in the evening but I already know that I will not do it. It's crazy, this hypocritical respect we have for ourselves sometimes.
"I'll try, I'll, and I'll stop."
For nothing! Maybe I will complain in the end - it annoys me, telephone harassment is terrible.
I stand up, I decided to go in. The neighbor is right, the wind chilled my cheeks. The apartment was freakin' cold now. I should have expected!
"If only I could stay here until the end of my life."
I jumped on the bed, the holy sanctuary of my desires. When I pass my fingers against the pillows I think about the times when they were hot, the heads and cries of pleasure I've heard. I lean toward the forgotten whiskey's bottle and I'm smiling. When I'm drinking, that's all hot like a woman was stuck in there. I would ask you to drink with me, but it's very expensive. Just kidding, of course ... Then, I can hear a very annoying sound that stop me from continuing to quench my eternal thirst; I get up and sneak into the living room. This is the mobile, and it's still the same guy who is always calling, every damn day for months, I hope I'll never see him again, I may be violent. I'm blinking like a little girl (very quickly) before landing. Despite the exquisite drink slightly in my throat, my voice is not warm.
"Yeah…?"
No answer.
Nothing.
What? I repeat, but no one responds.
- D'you hear me?
Yet I hear a sizzle. I hang up, no answer.
- I hate it...
I'm nervous, so I just take the mobile with me in the pocket of my coat- and I'm out, to breathe a little fresh. Let's try to forget the things I've tried to do: a restful nap, staring girls on TV, socializing me, watching the snowfall, drinking my coffee and my whiskey (especially my whiskey). I do not lock the door. I'm smoking now, the flame rises. I look up to old woman, on the other side of the road, pushing her stuffs. She has dirty hair and she's looking at me too. I think she wants to ask me for money, as all the old filthy women who are staring at you. So I walked in the snow that buried slowly but surely my world. I did not check if the woman was still watching me or not- but I felt it. I'm going down the avenue, and then the first bridge - the river is frozen, nature is trapped. Am I becoming a poet?
"D'you have change?"
She's right there; shaking her hands to me.
"Sorry."
I'm leaving but I do hear her, and she's following me. It's more terrifying than all those horror films I've ever watched! I cross a car; it passes in front of me: the transition slips, I'm just crazy.
Now she knows where I live, she will ask for money every damn day.
I wonder how she could get there, if she had family - but the question quickly vanished, out of my head because I noticed some letters in my letterbox. I hurried on; it starts to crack under my shoes. In fact, I'll go. I check out the poor lady, but she is no longer in the avenue. At Last! A few cars are rolling in the street, I withdraw some crap magazines, and the blood tests letter is there.
"That was fast."
I drop the papers. I'm very impatient to sit on my sofa to read everything…But there's something different in my lovely flat. What is that smell?
"What the…"
I just leave the letter on a side!
"Fuck, that's not good."
The guilty whiskey fell on the floor, it crackled obviously. I am not trying to accuse some ghost and now, let's find the usual disinfectants. As I cut myself picking glass silvers (of course!), and I still have not read the letter ... We all know these dark days, hum? I'm watching the wound, I expect that the blood stops and it's time to read, at last. I go through the results, it reminds me of school. I do not understand algebra, all those numbers written right here. Such a scientist lyricism… It's just useless, no sense for me.
"I'm going wrong? I'm fine? Just tell me, that's so easy."
"Dean, the results are very good. "
Or maybe...
"Dean, the results are atrocious! »
But I'm not this stupid. Yes, I've read the blood tests and I know the meaning of these words: "final", "unsatisfying" and "alarming".
I just let the letter on the table. My jaw clenches, I should have tried to find this brother of mine, who had vaguely talked to me. This brother, he haunted me forever. I'm holding the bottle in one hand and, do you mind if I drink? I don't care. It's done. I'm not a bad person, I beg you to believe me, cause I'll believe everything you think, anything you would say. I have a sudden urge to listen to music and plunge my head into the water of a warm bath.
When I was young, I thought that porcelain could open a door, led us to the ocean. I wanted to swim with the beasts. Snowflakes ashes and see in the bathroom! God I'm so weird.
My head is spinning a little, I drank too fast. I know this is not a right thing; I should stop that and remember my brother again, I would call him and we would forget about the past! It's never too late. I slide my foot in the water, and when I feel the warm surrounding my skin - my mind is saved. I'm on fire, and it's good. I turned on the radio, Bon Jovi's awesome. My day is not this dark and let the classic rock invade my ears.
I look up at the windows to heaven, I think he still snow, but I do not see very well because it got dark. I hear the voice of the singer, the radio crackles a little, it gets old. I think of all that I lost, all that I can win and lose again. My throat tightens, I think I'm crying. Hard to say, the bath water mixes with everything so I can pretend and lie to me myself. I look at the bottle of bourbon placed next to the coffee table, she tried me vicious ... I should call someone, invite the world. As before, drink until dawn, laugh and write the best projects ever! I sing with Mr. Jovi. I love that voice.
"And when there is nothing left to do, there is still music. »
The wound on my thumb is not that bad… I'm about to finish the bottle, but whiskey escapes, as the glass slides - the radio falls.
I held my breath when the radio reached the water's surface in this wonderful bath of mine. My eyes close; I know it's done, anyway. I do not reject what is happening, I cannot do it: I have no power. You just can't play all your life. When the electronic force joins me, it hit my skin hard and my mind is so damn blown.
I'm not here anymore.
It crackles, my body relaxes. This is the beginning of my story.
My name is Sam, and I'll tell you a story.
Actually, it's mine.
Maybe I should call my wife and tell her I'll be late, the problem is - I do not have a wife and it's snowy outside.
- Sir...?
The student just talked - he offers me a last coffee, I accept with pleasure. He is nice.
- You don't drink coffee, don't you?
He looks at me with wide eyes, like I said something very stupid. In fact, I'm pretty sure my superiors were abusive concerning his case. Maybe, he thinks I'm some project manager. Those superiors are not that bad, they are just silly.
- I see…
Wow, it's weird. I was like him, a few years ago. He didn't respond and drank coffee with me. In the end, he burns his throat before disappearing into the other room.
"Good evening, sir." He said.
I check the records, one last time - everyone has made good results today. I let out a short sigh, I can go home. Time to spin, yes.
"Sammy!"
Oh …Not again…!
"Mr. Texel!"
I know I may be such a hypocritical person sometimes, but forgive me. This company is going well but all the things you may do aren't this well. The man came to me, big belly and sideburns.
- You know what?
No I don't.
- You did a very good job, today! You amaze me, lil'man!
I'm not this small. But I know it's another joke, as the way I'm laughing is horrible and I'm moving towards – I just need to run away now.
- My wife is waiting for me! Sorry, boss! Oh and the little one's waiting at school too.
- You have a daughter, Sam! he asked, scratching his head, you are so young! I didn't expect that…
No, I do not have a daughter, but children are always a very good excuse. Just try and see.
- I gotta run! Good evening, Sir! Greetings to your wife too!
I just go, I do not even know if he has a wife and I'm holding my car keys to my car like my life depended on it. It's not that I do not like the office...
You won: I do not like the office.
I can finally fit into my mom's Impala (yes, I'm ashamed); I make the boxer engine roar when the snowflakes begin to fall. I remember the last time I saw them. It makes me think about him, it makes me smile. It makes me sad too. I finally start under a cloudy sky, the road is okay but there's something wrong, deep in me. I'm frustrated, I hesitate and I grumble. I look at the illuminated screen of my mobile. I have three new messages, is that this girl I had sex with last time? I do not care. This is no big deal.
But no message from him, never.
The road is quiet, I take a shortcut, I still think about the same damn thing. When I joined the house, I decide to do it. I park my car on a side, let's start this phone call. I do hear the dial tone, it repeated – those beeps are awful to me, while I push the car door. I realize the snow is really thick. And at the other end of the line, I can hear some responder, again... Now I'm at home, I slid the key into the keyhole and I rush inside, unharmed. I'm not organized, all my clothes are all around, on the floor- and you know what? I had great difficulty in cooking – even something decent last night. The food scraps near the sink when I bend down to caress my cat.
The girl I met yesterday is gone. But I can read her three messages. It seems she really likes me…
"D'you come home tonight?"
"Well, you do not answer."
"I'm going to go home, call me?"
I actually do not know much about women. I yawn, I closely resemble a lion. I am so hungry, I realize that I have absolutely nothing to eat (except spices, wow, delicious), the grocery store is in town center and just opened. I sigh. I do not even put on a coat before going out - I have not removed mine I head down to the black Impala I have not fed the cat yet, I'll have to buy something especially for the Lord. Before leaving, I turn my head to the other side of the road. I wonder if the guy who lives in that house across the street is hiding from me, because I've never met him there. I'm sure he knows I live here, and that's exactly why he never comes out. The avenue is quiet, I see a silhouette hanging something, I do not care: it is time to eat, I'm starving.
As I check my mobile, I see he didn't call back. I have to say it is nothing less than that I would expect from him. He never answered, anyway. Shit happens.
I stop at a red light, the grocery store is open. The guy inside, he looks like a terrorist. He did not smile, did not talk, I have never heard a word from him. I've always hated rudeness. What I hate more is indifference. I shall help but help the blind girl (and she's kind of attractive) who often comes in this shop, I wonder if she knows that there is actually a man behind the counter (I'm talking about the terrorist, if you have managed to follow my exciting tale). While waiting in the line, I'm holding my packet of instant pasta and apple juice, my phone vibrates. Phew! I'm giving the three dollars, I'm disappointed. It's just the girl, she texted me.
"Do you ever answer, sometimes?" the voice said on the phone.
"You're addicted to me, I guess."
Silence.
"Do you need help?"
Although the chick is on the phone, it does not prevent me to help the sexy blind girl. She thanked me, nods negatively and takes my wrist. For a few seconds I forget the phone. I feel she looks at me, I know she can't, but I feel her eyes. In that single moment, I'm just struck by her beauty, her deep blue eyes and her hair. The conversation was over, there was a small beep.
Then they shout, they scream. The door at the entrance was closed now, two guys entered, they wear black hoods, and I do not understand what I'm doing, what's going on? I'm just holding the girl against me and I rush against the wall.
"On the ground! NOW!"
This is not a freaking joke, my heart is crazy, I even feel like having a hundred hearts under my chest.
- What the…
I slipped my mobile in my coat pocket while I'm trying to protect the face of the unknown girl against me.
"Stay calm."
We squatted, we obey, and we listen.
- Cash! CASH!
And the screams of those people I still hear…
The brave guy I called terrorist does not move. For a moment, I expect that he would grab a giant gun, but a second later and he was shot. All I remember is an exclamation of anger or fear, or whatever. I step back, the blind woman starts to cry, I feel his cold hands around me. She clings to me like I was her savior; she had never seen the light. I wonder briefly how it is. I can't say. This is normal.
I am sitting straight up; I see the men on the cash machine, still shooting the body of the man they've just killed. One of them left a gun on the counter. The idea crossed my mind very quickly but I am not sure. Yet unconsciously, my body obeys my thought. This is adrenaline? I see the woman with her child; they're looking at me with wide eyes…
"You! What are you doing?"
I hold my breath. Their gun goes to me; I left my arm watching the blind girl who does not move against the wall, where I had left her. Her lips move as she holds a silver crucifix between her slender hands. I wish I could hold them longer, but that is not possible.
It is no longer possible, because I'm dead.
When bullets pass through me, one by one, it's like an incredible rain I can't contemplate. The phone card in the system blows my mobile, someone is calling me, but it was not that girl I've touched last night. It is the last person I would expect, and I'm not there for him. I feel terribly guilty because deep down I know he does think about me, for sure.
"You're very different; who would not think you are actual brothers!"
Something comes to me who believes in nothing, not the end and not the start.
"Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold. I have come into the deep waters; the floods engulf me. I am worn out calling for help; my throat is parched. My eyes fail, looking for my God." Psalm 69 (68)
This is what the girl says as I was thrown to the other side of the store. My blood covers the ground, the cries don't reach me. We'll see if I was right to disbelieve in this man with a long white beard.
I know this is going to sound crazy, but it is indeed the beginning of Sam's story…