(pour la version française, c’est par ici)
One never pays attention to the case in the news. Neither do one to the person writing them. This is good, for what I doing need anonymity.
You were right since the beginning: I am responsible for those cases in the news. I am writing these five lines you are seeing in the newspaper when you do not want to bother yourself with the current affairs – far more difficult to understand. I write these 5 lines, even though you do not want to bother yourself with current affairs; you see all the crimes, blaming the murderers, empathizing with the victims, but c’est la vie. After thinking about it for a few seconds, you turn to the next page to read the months top five weight loss tips.
This is perfect. Please, skim through these few lines, do not even let it phase you. Otherwise I would end up in jail and of course, I do not want that. You almost succeed, by the way. Unfortunately for you, I was faster. C’est la vie.
I will start from the beginning, it will be easier for you to understand. Do not worry, I will be quick, I know you do not have that much time left.
I am a very common person. I am not even extremely common, just unremarkable. Commonly common. Every motion I make every thought I have can prove it to you. Despite my banality, I always wanted to be an artist, a creator. Firstly I wanted to be a writer, but I had no talent. I decided then to be a journalist, but, again, I had no talent. I was designed to write the case in the news field. This is the level of creativity I posses.
But I wanted more.
Funny fact, I am as insignificant at the editorial board as my writings are in the newspaper. I am just there because I have to, to fill the space. My office is located on the bottom floor next to the restrooms; people only converse with me when I am near the coffee machine – I really like my coffee.
I suffered a lot because of this rejection. I was frustrated, sad and affected by this disinterest. Then, one day, I realized that my situation was actually an opportunity. I was blessed by this ignorance, so I was able to develop all the treasures of my imagination and become the creator I always wanted to be. A creator.
My life changed.
I remember my first time as if it was yesterday. I was excited, I was stressed, I wanted to succeed but I was afraid to be disappointed. I have waited for this for such a long time … I sat down at my desk, grabbed a white sheet of paper and in a blast of ink, my first case in the news was written.
‘A young man was found dead in a car accident as he was going out of a night-club.’
Short, clumsy… my first time. I did not dare going further. I sent it to the director of the newspaper at 16:50, right before the deadline for publishing. It would appear in the newspapers the very next day. The countdown was ticking. Now I had to bring my case to life. I had to find the right place, the right person and the right vehicle. I sabotaged his breaks and waited in my own car, waiting for him to leave the club, start his car and leave. My heart was drumming while I was following him. The excitement swelled as he accelerated. Bigger…bigger…then the explosion came, so did I. It was the best day of my life.
Since this event, I have never stopped. I send the story to the editors with little time to spare, and with a rush of adrenalin, I give myself one night to accomplish my work and make truth out of my imagination. I was shy in the beginning; but I became more confident in my words – and in my gesture. I am resourceful now. I am taking risks and my only limits are made by my imagination. By day, I am nothing but indifference. By night, I alter reality to suite my very best fantasies.
Here is one of the latest stories you have certainly heard about:
‘A young lady slips on a piece of chocolate cake. She tried to grab a 15 kilos fresh ham to keep balance, but it fell on her, and killed her.’
The chocolate cake was easy, but you have no idea what I had to do to find fresh ham at two in the morning. This is part of the game. I like challenging my imagination with technical constraints. This is the bases of creation, isn’t it?
But of course, scheduling is a problem. The newspaper is being delivered in the morning and most of the time, the details my stories contain are only known by the police. Therefore it is impossible for them to be written the day before. Well, luckily for me, it is not such a problem because as I told you, nobody cares about the stories in the news.
Nobody excepts you.
I notice you at the office board. You were asking for some random information, pretending you did not care which was highly suspicious by itself. I asked for your name and I found your address in our subscriber list. I was observing you day after day. I was very cautious and patient. Thanks to you, I was able to create what I consider to be my masterpiece, where the fiction shapes its own reality. A self-fulfilling prophecy. It was risky, of course, but everything follows the plane. It was written in ink, now it is writing in blood. Yours.
Now it is over – at least, for you. I owed you an explanation as a moral duty. After all, you were my unique opponent and I had a lot of fun in this little “cat or mouse” game. Thank you, and goodbye.
Her eyes have been closed for awhile, but hewas sure she was still listening. She was much too deeply involved in this story not to be willing to understand everything, even in her current situation.
Everything had started 5 months ago when she noticed an announcement of an accident, before her police team arrived at the crime scene; however, she forgot this very quickly. Two months later, the situation repeated. She warned her colleagues about this but they ignored this problem. One does not pay attention to the case in the news. She decided to investigate this herself and she went to the newspaper’s office a couple of time in order to get information. She subscribed to the magazine and and read it daily. Every morning, she left her room barefooted, wearing only her cozy yellow housecoat whilst waiting for her morning coffee to clear her mind. While waiting for her Italian coffee machine to heat, she would fetch the newspaper from her mailbox. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she would embrace the hot mug in her left hand and read through the newspaper. Of course, she was starting by the case in the news
Day by day, she noticed more and more unlikely details. She was annotating everything, highlighting everything; she noticed signs, symbols and hidden meanings in every word. She became obsessed with it ; she became irrational and lost the trust of her colleagues because of her private investigation. She was tense, worried and paranoid. She constantly felt like she was being followed, peering over her shoulder everywhere she went. She was distracted by everything, even forgetting to close the window after her final cigarette of the day.
This morning, as per her routine, she sat down with her coffee in hand, wearing her yellow housecoat and began her morning with the case in the news and she rode :
‘A young policewoman stumbled in her own kitchen, hitting her head on the table. She was found dead at the scene of the incident, wearing her yellow housecoat saturated with coffee and blood’
She gasped and immediately felt dizzy. She dropped the newspaper and released her mug of coffee, spilling it all over her feet. She lost her balance because of the pain, she fell, her head struck the table and she fell to the floor barely conscious. Her blood spread quickly, mixing with her coffee, staining her yellow housecoat.
A shadow appeared and approached her. He started talking for a long, long time…until her last breath
Realizing it was useless to keep talking, he stopped. He came closer, carefully avoiding the different liquids on the floor. He took the newspaper, folded it and put it quietly in his pocket. Then he couldn’t help but smile, looking at the scene he had created.
As he was going out, he hesitated for a second then came back over the table, grabed the cup on the table and drinked the coffee which was then at the perfect temperature (As I/he was leaving, I/he hesitated. He went back in and poured himself the remaining coffee in the pot. He drank it, as it was was the perfect temperature.
He really loves coffee.
This is my second short story translated in English! I want to thanks Yovan and Mascha, whose help was extremily helpfull for the french guy that I am to make a decent translation ! I love you guys !
English is not my mothertongue, feel free to tell me if you see some mistakes or some sentences which seems weird, do not hesitate to let me know !
Et les francophones, ne vous inquiétez pas, la prochaine nouvelle sera en français !