Chapter 1
I didn't even had one hour awake. A few glimmers of daylight were beginning to intimidate the dusk to turn into dawn. I was on my way to the everyday stop for my grand limousine shaped as a Volvo bus with direction to my everyday bleak destiny. At least from Monday through Friday. Then a grim precognition, like a sixth sense, I saw a gloomy human shape walking inexorably towards me. He was like 6'3'' tall, husky without reaching the shape of a weight lifter. He was wearing blue jeans and a gray hoodie where he kept his hands. And finally a black militia style balaclava that covered his face.
That latest feature really scared me and sent a frozen chill through my body. And with that unstoppable pace he had, I knew he was off to kidnap me. Me, someone who have no idea of what's going on. But why? I asked myself, surely to claim a rescue to finance their nefarious intentions, what ever they were, anarchists, murderers, criminals; me Harry Diaem, the warranty, of course it had to be me.
This sombre man advanced relentlessly from the distance through the ever decreasing shadows of the night. He was going to take out his hand waving a gun, with the other arm he would grab me by the neck and threatening everyone that the life of this unknown character will end if anyone tried to become a hero. One single thought was comforting myself. Like, if I were in the jungle, locked in a cage, something was telling me that hostages were well treated while they were exchange for a reward. I felt a frosty breeze crossing my body while I gazed to the eyes of whom surely will become a shipwreck of my everyday destiny. What I saw into those eyes was the Limbo, like a black hole that eats all the light that surrounds it, and I was part of the light.
Not three feet between us and I had already accepted with admirable stoicism how I was going to be kidnapped. Be made a pawn in a game I wasn't playing. I would be made evening news merchandise, the TV anchors will more or less scruples would exploit my situation, they will make special interviews, magazines, and maybe even a couple of fake biographies. I felt like a wild hog in a roasting jack, slowly cooking with my own fat. But I was not going down without a fight. I was holding my guitar in a hard box, ready to be used as a last resort weapon if the masked guy had the chance to get closer one more step in his intimidating stance. I was ready to give him a blow to the head like a lead shroud between his two Limbos to fill them with his vilified mortal remains.
Then it happened like a punch - literally - I saw myself beaten to the ground in an instant by the shoulder of that idealized psychotic monster. A psycho, a criminal. I was laying on the ground after five seconds of abrupt imagination. I was amazed that all these thoughts happened so fast through my brain. Then, mortified, I stood up and gazed towards that imaginary guerrilla kidnapper and saw how he dusted-off his shoulder from a minor hit. Then he disappeared by the time I had the chance to take the bus to my really unchangeable destiny.
How wrong I was. This incident that day and others that were playing in my mind would finish my monotonous way of life. They will take me out of my slumber with a mortal conjunction and change my destiny.
Photo Credit: Jeremy Burgin
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