Fantasy | Magic | Adventure
If one day a door appeared in front of you.
Would you decide to open it or ignore it?
One Door. One Choice. A destiny?
Cassandra has decided to open it.
Six months earlier, before the Door opened.
You can choose track number 1.
It was a sound that woke Cassandra. ✦✧✩ A sound… ✯✰✶ Or more like a feeling… ✩✪✬ As if someone were looking for her… calling her… ✰✶♪
A sinister scream echoed wildly. Terrified, she sat up suddenly. It was only just possible to see the sun breaking through her bedroom window. A frantic pounding was making everything from the walls to the ceiling vibrate intensely.
Cassandra calmed down; she knew what was making all this noise. Groaning with pain, she stood up and went to the adjoining bathroom. Her numb legs robbed her of strength. She ran a hand through her mop of black hair, dishevelling it, and observed her reflection in the mirror. She was not really happy with the image it reflected back to her, but she contented herself with it—anyway, there was nothing she could do about it.
A ten-year-old child was looking back at her from the mirror. Her body was small and puny. A little girl’s shape, yet she no longer was that little girl. Her thick black hair cascaded in heavy waves down her back to her waist. Her wan complexion seemed deathly pale to her and her eyes were of the same colour as the dark circles accentuating them.
She selected some clothes from her cupboard and exchanged her soft pyjamas for a more suitable outfit: her favourite jeans and jumper. When she was ready, she opened her bedroom door, left the little room and climbed painfully down a long staircase. Each step cost her considerable effort.
Her descent led her into an old-fashioned living room. The nearer she got the louder the sound became until it was at an unbearable pitch. Feeling annoyed, she blocked up her ears that were being assaulted by the prevailing racket and went over to a multi-socket adaptor, quickly unplugging it. To her great relief, the living room at once settled into silence.
An old woman, who was sitting on a chair full of dust, banged on the big amplifier standing next to her.
‘Now what’s going on? Why won’t it work anymore?’
‘Grandma!’ hissed Cassandra, waving the adaptor.
The woman put her electric guitar down on the coffee table and folded her arms in a threatening manner. Her face had become wrinkled over time, yet it shone with the light of second youth. She had applied black make-up around her clear blue eyes. Her lips, thin from old age, were painted dark green. A hairband held back her long and wild hair, which, even if it was exploding like an erupting volcano, could not have been whiter.
‘What’s your problem then?’
‘What?’ said Cassandra defiantly. ‘You’re the one plugging in your amp at the crack of dawn, but I’m the one who’s the problem?’
The old lady clenched her fists and jumped up, ready to respond with a powerful slap. Not wanting to excite her grandmother’s impulsive anger, Cassandra quickly plugged the adaptor in again. She swiftly escaped to the kitchen, to the sound of the guitar’s frenzied vibrations. It opened onto the warm and cosy living room. Mismatched furniture (most of which had seen better days), mats worn by time and a disused fireplace.
Cassandra came back to the living room with the breakfast she had just prepared. She sat on the sofa next to her grandmother and put the television on, gradually increasing the volume. Unable to concentrate on the slightest note, the old lady finally gave up and unplugged her loudspeaker.
‘Aren’t you ever going to let me get any peace around here then?’
‘Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a bit?’ retorted Cassandra, blithely buttering a slice of bread. ‘So, what are we doing today?’
‘Doing the dusting will be a good start.’
‘Great. Can’t we go into town instead?’
‘Into town!’ You’re very hopeful! Your parents would kill me.’
‘Pff, don’t worry, they won’t know anything about it. I’m fed up of being shut inside. I’d really like to go out and see people. Look how nice it is outside. It’s summer, it’s there to be enjoyed!’
The old woman caught hold of Cassandra’s freshly buttered piece of bread and, paying no attention to her granddaughter’s complaints, marked her territory by taking a big bite.
‘You are quite right, child. That’s why I’m going up to town this morning. All on my own.’
‘What? Take me with you!’
‘For you to have a bad turn as soon as you get out of the house?’
The woman went to the kitchen and came back with a packet of medicine.
‘You see this? You can go out when your parents say that you don’t need to be on your medication anymore. In the meantime.…’
She opened the silver-coloured box; nothing was written on it to indicate what was inside. She pulled out a blister pack and removed five capsules, which she ordered her granddaughter to swallow. Cassandra took hold of one of them between her fingers and studied it attentively. The capsule, which was enveloped in a finely embossed, shiny grey case, was quite big. She placed the silvery shell on her tongue, took a sip of fruit juice and repeated the operation four times.
Poor health had affected her life since her birth and, as a result, her growth was significantly stunted. The slightest cold could prove to be critical. Her tired body was constantly crippled by exhaustion. Yet, although she had a weak constitution, she was not declining. Physically, there was nothing really to stop her from going outside, apart from her parents’ unhealthy paranoia.
They coddled her. For no good reason that she could see. But since her father was also her doctor, she did not have much choice but to go along with his treatment. And to be grateful that he had protected her for so long from the dangers outside that threatened her health by keeping her well and truly locked within four walls.… He’s the one who’s ill, not me, she thought, as she threw down the packet of medicine.
Cassandra hurriedly finished her breakfast and cleared the table. She helped her grandmother with a few household chores; then, feeling suddenly exhausted, she had to lie down on the sofa. Her legs could no longer hold up the weight of her body. As usual, she could only resign herself to her incurable weakness and her permanent uselessness. She took a short nap in order to regain the energy she needed.
She dragged herself into the kitchen in the middle of the morning to join her grandmother. She moved her aching limbs with great difficulty, sat down at the table and when the old lady offered her iced tea – her own secret lemon-honey-rum recipe – she willingly accepted it. Cassandra turned her head in the direction of a big window, which was half open, to feast her eyes on the summery scene.
The cottage, surrounded by green hills, was nestled amidst grassland covered with trees. There was no neighbour in sight. In fact, there were no neighbours. The nearest houses were scattered a few kilometres away over the grassland.
The nearest town was an hour’s drive away, a choice that went without saying for her grandmother, who liked to live separately from the rest of the world. She did not like her own kind much. Cassandra often wondered if she might not be hiding a hatred of the whole of humanity. She had a very low tolerance level, even of her own family.
In the middle of the garden, tended by her grandmother, was a gazebo, which in summer was richly adorned with flowers. Cassandra sighed and smiled ruefully. She would have given all the gold in the world to set foot on that freshly mown lawn, to relax in the blazing rays of sunshine. But her parents – or her health, at least – deprived her of this simple pleasure.
All she could do was look out of the kitchen window and daydream, confined to her own house with an old recluse to keep her company. The sunflowers were reaching up proudly; the scent of lavender wafted on the faint morning breeze; the tomatoes in front of the cauliflowers were ripening in the heat; two wasps were frantically circling her iced tea.…
‘Why are you going into town?’ she asked as she shooed away the aggressive insects buzzing around the room.
‘Is it any business of yours?’ replied her grandmother. ‘Are you going to leave those bees alone?’
‘Don’t answer my question with another question.’
Cassandra trapped an insect in her glass.
‘I’ve got a bit of shopping to do,’ said the woman. ‘Leave that bee alone, will you!’
‘Bees are pretty. That thing is a nasty wasp. Why have you got to go shopping? You stocked up not long ago at the market. Besides, you avoid people like the plague, it’s suspicious.’
‘Why do you ask so many questions?’
‘Why don’t you ever answer me? Mm.… What are you hiding from me?’
‘You can be a real pain in the—’
The old lady sighed and rephrased her thoughts:
‘You are a real nuisance. And let go of that bee, will you!’
Cassandra waved the glass around to annoy her grandmother.
‘Alright, alright.… I’m only telling you because I know you’ll keep on at me all day. Your parents phoned yesterday.’
‘My parents?’ said Cassandra loudly. ‘What do they want?’
‘Aren’t they allowed to call you without necessarily expecting something?’
Cassandra shook her head doubtfully. The old woman picked up the glass and studied the unconcerned insect as it feasted on the sugar stuck to the sides.
‘They wanted it to be a surprise for you, but you’re spoiling everything. They’re back from their last mission and they’ll be here tomorrow evening. And who’s got to make a gourmet meal to welcome them?’
The woman and Cassandra swore simultaneously, one of them out of resentment, the other out of astonishment. The grandmother cuffed her granddaughter on the head, wanting to educate her correctly.
‘What’s got into you?’ said Cassandra, wincing. ‘And … how long are they going to be staying?’
‘Only a few days. They’ve got another assignment waiting. And don’t ask me where, I’ve got no idea. You can ask them yourself.’
Cassandra counted on her fingers.
‘Two … three … four. Four months. I haven’t seen them for four months. What am I supposed to do when I see them?’
‘They’re your parents, not strangers,’ her grandmother reminded her. ‘Act as you usually do.’
‘To do that, a habit would already need to have been formed!’
‘They work a lot, it’s true, but you have to admit you don’t make much effort when they honour us with their presence. They’d come to visit us more often if you were more welcoming.’
‘And maybe I’d be more welcoming if they stopped treating me like an invalid. I’m their daughter before being their patient, as far as I know.’
The old lady looked at her granddaughter sympathetically. Then she bent her head to look at the insect trapped inside the glass.
‘Bee venom is supposed to be full of properties to treat inflammatory infections, rheumatism and arthritis.’
Cassandra did not bother to reply. Firstly, it was not a bee; secondly, she was not sure if she had understood the words.
‘You often have chronic pain,’ observed the old lady.
‘Don’t even think about it! Weren’t you going shopping?’
‘Yes, I was. What should I make for your parents? It’s just that those toffs have fancy tastes. Do you think a fried bee would be nice?’
Cassandra picked up the container and said tauntingly, ‘I don’t believe it, what an old witch!’
Her grandmother’s face flashed with anger. Seeking her revenge, she took hold of the glass and planted it on Cassandra’s chest. The angry wasp buzzed around its transparent cage before finding an area of bare skin it could cling on to.
‘Aarghh!’
Cassandra quickly got out of the way, rubbing her collar bone frantically. The place where she had been stung quickly went red and she felt a sharp pain. The old woman contemplated the insect making its angry escape on the other side of the window until she could no longer see it. Undeniably, it was not a bee.
She pushed her victim next to the sink and soaked a towel in white vinegar. Cassandra was reticent, but her grandmother said she had to disinfect the sting. She kept pressing down on the cloth for such a long time that her granddaughter began to suspect a sadistic pleasure.
‘And what are you going to do if I’m allergic?’
‘I know your medical record by heart. You’re not.’
‘But what if—?’
‘I told you, you’re not.’
She held out the towel to Cassandra before losing herself in another bout of madness. She grabbed the flowerpot decorating the kitchen table and carelessly knocked it over.
‘What on earth’s got into you?’
Without any explanation at all, the woman poked around in the gritty pile of earth and pulled out a key that had been hidden inside. She then unlocked the door of a cupboard and opened it. An avalanche of packets of cigarettes fell at her feet.
‘It’s only a supply, just in case,’ she said before her granddaughter had the chance to express her amazement.
After lighting one of the cylinders with a lighter, she brought the glowing end as close as possible to the sting. When she noticed the dubious expression on Cassandra’s face, she explained how venom could be altered by heating it to make it ineffective—at least in theory, anyway. After several very long seconds she moved the cigarette away and stuck it in her mouth, despite the young girl’s protests. ‘Waste not, want not,’ she said, to justify herself.
The grandmother looked at the clock on the wall. Eleven o’clock. It was getting late, and slipping on a jacket decorated with heavy chains, she took a few shopping bags and announced that she was leaving. Before going, she advised her patient to put a soothing cream on her sting.
Cassandra suddenly caught hold of her to give her a kiss on the cheek.
‘Be careful on the road. And think of me while I’m cooped up here.’
The old lady ruffled her granddaughter’s dark mop of hair.
‘I’d willingly change places if I could. What a joy to mingle with the overexcited supermarket crowd!’
The woman went into the entrance porch and stood in front of a box fixed to the wall. As soon as she pressed a button, a long, high-pitched ring indicated that the security alarm had been switched on.
She hurried out of the house and shut the door behind her. Several locks were set in motion, heavy metal blinds rolled down in front of the windows, sealing all outside access and plunging the whole place into an ink-like darkness.
Cassandra flicked a switch to light up the living room. In order to protect their home against intruders, isolated as it was from all human activity, her parents had put in place a system of maximum security. What is more, they had not given the alarm code to their daughter.
They put forward two good reasons for this lack of trust. Firstly, they suspected excessive naivety. They thought Cassandra could quite easily open the door to the first stranger who came along and ask every thief in for a coffee. Secondly, any unplanned outing was forbidden to her. They were too worried about her health to let her wander around on her own outside the security of the home. As they judged her to be foolish, they preferred to keep her in when her grandmother was out rather than running the highly likely risk that she would run away.
Cassandra stood behind the door, scowling. She was unsure. Her parents knew so little about her. Admittedly, she knew herself to be capable of making a thief feel welcome. On the other hand, they had no idea how wayward she was. Perhaps they should have shown more interest in their daughter because if there was one thing she knew, it was the alarm code.
In order to get these secret numbers, she had spied on her grandmother whenever the opportunity had arisen. Just to be on the safe side. What would happen if one day the old woman had a dizzy spell? If a fire broke out? Or if a burglar managed, despite everything, to get into the dwelling?
Admittedly, when the security measures were activated, only the ground floor was under protection. Because of that, she could always try to leave the house by jumping from the first floor. But the idea did not appeal to her very much. If necessary, she preferred knowing that she was capable of disabling the protections put in place, rather than risking her life in this place in the middle of nowhere.
Up to now, she had never made use of this code. Even though she judged the treatment protocol to be more harmful than her physical frailty, she followed it to the letter. Thanks to her family, she would perhaps live longer but without ever tasting the smallest of life’s pleasures. Couldn’t she enjoy a tiny bit of recklessness?
Her grandmother would not be back for a few hours yet. She was alone, walled up in her house while the summer heat radiated beyond this cold cage of safety. When might she have the opportunity again? No one would ever know about her little escapade. But what if something happened to her? As far as her parents were concerned, her health prevented her from going outside at all, and she was not allowed to stray from the secure cocoon of her home. Cassandra tilted her head first to one side then to the other, weighing up the risks and the temptation.
She slipped her hand into the pocket of her trousers. Her fingers closed around a metallic blister pack. She looked with disgust at the silvery capsules. Was she so sickly that she could not enjoy a mere hour of freedom? She threw the medicine on the floor, and with one movement she swept away both her fears and the instructions of her family. She knew better than anyone else what she needed.
Determined, she typed the numbers into the numeric keypad. One, five, ten, five. The alarm switched off. The blinds went up, letting the sun make its way in through the windows. The last clicking sound signalled that the front door had unlocked. Cassandra smiled complacently. She hated being forced to stay in by her parents. She slipped on a pair of shoes, switched off the lights, placed her hand on the handle, and, in happy anticipation of her escapade, she opened the door. Her family overprotected her. Her health would not be harmed by any outside danger—or she hoped to convince herself that this was so.
You can choose track number 2.
The daylight dazzled her. A tender warmth caressed her skin. Overwhelming happiness rippled through her. She took a few steps forward, beyond the boundary set by her parents, beyond their authority. A breeze stroked her face. Uncertain, she kept going, ignoring her stiff muscles, and walked for a few metres along a gravel path. Finally, she climbed over a gate and left the abode behind.
Outspread before her was a wood. ✦✧ Could she venture inside? ✧✩ Could she risk it? Walking slowly and carefully, she moved forward into the trees. ✦✧ She wound her way through the resplendent undergrowth, relishing the summery smells and finding freedom in this safe and natural haven. ✧✩ At the end of a path, she soon discovered a little clearing. ✧✩ As she was tired, she lay down on the soft grass in the golden halo of light cast by the sun. Her legs throbbed, and her heart struggled to find a steady rhythm. She closed her eyes. ✦✧ The stillness all around relaxed her mind. ✰✶ She basked in the preciousness of the moment and in such unaccustomed freedom.
✧✧✦✧✩✮✧✪✧✪✧✶✮✰✶✧✧
All of a sudden, Cassandra sat up.
A sound. A feeling. An emotion? She did not know how to describe what she had just heard. Or felt, rather. All she knew was that she had just sensed a pregnant call. Someone – or something – was summoning her.
Worried, she slowly got up and looked around her. The trees were silent, the undergrowth still. Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it was just her imagination? She was pondering whether to forget about this strange occurrence when she sensed another call. It was just as silent as the first, yet as powerful as it was restrained.
✧✧✦✧✩✮✧✪✧✪✧✶✮✰✶✧✧
✦✧ Cassandra listened. And followed the invitation. ✦✧ She left the clearing and threaded her way through the leafy green forest. ✦✧ She could hear. She was coming. The call was showing her the way. ✦✧ A tranquil stream burbled nearby.
✧✧✦✧✩✮✧✪✧✪✧✶✮✰✶✧✧
Cassandra came to a stop before a sturdy tree. She could feel it. She knew. ✦✧ There was a deep scar in its trunk. ✦✧ She placed her hand in the gap. ✦✧ Her fingers struck an object. ✦✧ Calmly, she removed it. It was a little jewellery box that she opened very carefully.
✧✧✦✧✩✮✧✪✧✪✧✶✮✰✶✧✧
Resting comfortably on a velvet cushion was a necklace. She stroked the silver chain and grasped it in her hand. A pendant was swinging fearlessly; its stone an enchanting purple.
Cassandra regarded the gemstone in amazement. Perfectly round with a diameter of about three centimetres, its colour was stunning, magical and so deeply vivid. A whole amethyst ocean seemed to be contained in the precious jewel. An illusory and dreamlike beauty, beyond any reality, and not of this world.
✧✧✦✧✩✮✧✪✧✪✧✶✮✰✶✧✧
The gem was speaking to her. She knew it. She could feel it. She did not know how or why, or the answers to a host of other related questions, but she knew. Her instinct was telling her something. Cassandra eagerly slipped the chain around her neck. She bent over the stream and admired her reflection on the surface of the water.
That there was no room for doubt was strikingly clear: it was the birth of an alliance. Cassandra had always liked to boast about what she saw as the unique colour of her eyes. Yet today, she had discovered a jewel whose reflection was as true as that of her gaze.
Spellbound, she remained standing for some time in front of her makeshift mirror. The chirping of a sparrow dragged her from the magnetic hold of the moment. With her mind as empty of reason as it was beset with apprehension, she hid the necklace that did not belong to her underneath her clothes. The feeling of guilt was quickly swept away by the irrational distrust instilled by her intuition. She replaced the jewellery box in the gash made in the trunk, hurried through the forest and made quickly for the house.
With a feeling of unexplainable urgency eating away at her, she went inside as quickly as she could and switched on the alarm to conceal her escapade. No sooner had she done so than the windows were sealed off by the metal blinds, plunging the place into total darkness. The light switch indicators provided her with the visibility she needed.
Cassandra bounded up the rickety stairs and took refuge in the peace and calm of her bedroom, clutching the pendant under her clothes. She did not dare go out. She hardly ventured to breathe. All she could do was think and feel stupid for worrying so much about an object, while at the same time being conscious of the fact that if someone had gone to the trouble of hiding it, then it was worth worrying about.
✧✧✦✧✩✮✧✪✧✪✧✶✮✰✶✧✧
Cassandra tried to fathom the message. She really could not make it out. She asked the gemstone to repeat it. ✦✧ She still did not understand. The stone kept on giving the same information. ✦✧ It kept on … on… ✦✧ And on… ✦✧ And on… ✦✧ And on… ✦✧
‘Aaaah stop it! I don’t understand, it’s no use!’
Wearily, she threw herself onto her bed and lay down, clutching the pendant in her fist. She closed her eyes, exhausted by her impromptu jaunt. Tiredness crushed her like a pile of bricks. She felt herself being enticed beyond the world that she knew.
Beyond the world that she knew.
✧✧✦✧✩✮✧✪✧✪✧✶✮✰✶✧✧
★★✶★★
You can choose track number 3.
🟊🟌🟎❂❁✫🟊🟌🟎🗲🟌🟎
A dream.
Cassandra looked at the necklace resting on her chest. The gemstone shone and sparkled magnificently. She watched in amazement as the pendant floated before her. The chain slipped off its owner’s neck and flew into the darkness of her illusion.
🟊🟌🟎❂❁✫🟊🟌🟎🗲🟌🟎
The gemstone was dancing high above, flying far away. It was manifestly calling the girl to whom its message was addressed and inviting her to follow it. Cassandra pursued it relentlessly. She travelled far away, very far away, so far away that she seemed to leave all reality behind. She soared high, very high, so high that by simply raising her arms she could brush the stars suspended in the enchanted heavens.
She could hear it. Better still, she could understand it.
✧✩ Ca ✧✩ ss ✧✩ an ✧✩ dra… ✧✩
A dream. Yet so real.
The gemstone ceased its frantic course. Cassandra seized hold of the jewel as if she were reaching for a star from the sky. She was floating in the star-studded darkness in a kingdom of silvery sparks and shadows.
✧✩ Ca ✧✩ ss ✧✩ an ✧✩ dra… ✧✩
The mystic words were being silently and soundlessly etched in her mind. She assimilated the syllables. The call was spreading stealthily through her, in such a soft and gentle manner that no one else could have heard it.
✧✩ Your … ✧✩ life ✧✩ here ✧✩ is ✧✩ a lie… ✧✩
Cassandra did not understand what it meant. She regarded the sparkling gemstone, nestled in the hollow of her hand.
‘My life is a lie?’ she repeated.
✧✩ Your… ✧✩ life ✧✩ in ✧✩ this ✧✩ world ✧✩ is ✧✩ a lie… ✧✩
‘Why?’
✧✩ You ✧✩ must ✧✩ go ✧✩ back ✧✩ home. ✧✩
‘Who are you?’
✧✩ Your friend. ✧✩ Your reflection. ✧✩ Your strength. ✧✩ Your Opram stone. ✧✩ I will be who you want me to be. ✧✩
Cassandra listened, pondering each word, but the obscure message threw no light upon her mirage. She gazed at the beguiling stars adorning the night and twinkling beside her. Why was she searching for a meaning to this illusion, however enchanting it was? There was no doubt that she was dreaming. Why could she not just simply enjoy the dreamlike beauty of the present moment?
The gemstone was speaking, making its truth known.
✧✩ Your life is a lie… ✧✩
Cassandra demanded an explanation. She wanted to understand. But the same terms flowed out endlessly like a sinister chant. The words were taking hold of her mind, besieging her thoughts, and irreversibly taking root. She asked it to stop this abstruse deluge; she begged for silence, without success.
Her life was a lie. Her life. A lie. Life. Lie. She was assailed by the association of words, yet she could not grasp it. Feeling unsettled, she covered the purple stone with her hands. She no longer wished to hear it. She no longer wished to understand.
She turned away from it and looked at the surrounding constellations. The stars were sparkling around her, comforting her with their tender glow. One star in the dizzy heights was shining with inordinate brightness, crowning all others in its dazzling splendour. It sparkled on its own, abandoned by its cohorts, who probably resented it.
The gemstone stopped what it was saying. It had new words to reveal.
✧✩ This star is the door towards the truth. ✧✩ You must know. ✧✩ You must understand. Cassandra, you must go back home. ✧✩
She held out her arms, raised her hands and stretched her fingers up to the magical star. Irrevocably charmed and enchanted, her only desire was to join up with it, her only wish to reach it. Her body floated in the heights, drifting towards the object she so craved. As she got nearer to it, the star moved further away, taunting her, remaining inexorably beyond the reach of a simple human being.
Cassandra could not achieve the impossible; she could not climb so high, she could not make a miracle happen. Yet, she tried. She put all the ardour she had into it, forced with her arms and legs and launched herself into the night sky in pursuit of the stranger.
She managed to get nearer but suddenly felt herself being dragged relentlessly back. She was being firmly driven away, cruelly denied any access to the most distant heights, to the most splendid of lights.
Now she was plunging into the gloom, sinking into her dream. The necklace was floating before her eyes, sharing its silent words.
✧✩ I no longer have enough energy… ✧✩ I won’t have time to explain everything… ✧✩ You will feel alone, but don’t forget, you are not… ✧✩ Don’t lose hope, Cassandra. ✧✩ Even uncrossable limits will not separate you from this star. ✧✩ You will find out how to get back home. ✧✩ You will succeed in doing the impossible because hope creates miracles. ✧✩
The images broke up callously. Lines, shapeless marks, pieces of existence, little snatches of things dying out. She no longer had control over anything. Her mind was spinning, and her consciousness could no longer guide her as she lost all sense of time and space.
Her dream was shattering. Her reality was cracking apart.
✧✩ Reach that star, Cassandra… ✧✩
★★✶★★
You can choose track number 4.
Cassandra woke with a start. Her eyes were burning. She gasped for air; her throat was on fire. She felt around on her bedside table and found a bottle of water. Parched, she gulped it down hurriedly. The liquid flooded down her throat, yet it neither quenched her thirst nor put out the fire that was consuming her whole body.
Her blood was flowing through her veins like a river of lava. The pain was killing her, slashing her, striking her down. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and, placing her hand on it, she found a pendant. Her intense emotions were reflected in the purple gemstone.
Pain. Pain. She felt a deep unease. It was as if she were being gripped in the claws of a white-hot vice from which she could not break free. So much pain. Feeling disorientated, she swung out of bed and landed heavily on the wooden floor of her bedroom. With clumsy and trembling movements, she opened the drawer of her bedside table, took out a pack of silvery capsules and swallowed each one with a sip of water until there were none left.
She waited, clasping her new pendant to her. Her suffering intensified with every minute that passed. The choking feeling was crushing her. The pain subsided bit by bit until it completely disappeared. Her vision cleared, the vice loosened its grip and her body seemed to begin responding again. She took a deep breath of the stuffy air around her, relishing her ability to breathe once more, before glancing at the time on the clock: “16:00”.
Already? How could she have slept so long? Cassandra got up and went into the bathroom adjoining her room. She stood in front of the basin and splashed her face with ice-cold water. She studied her tired reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red with dark shadows underneath, her hair was unruly, and she had a necklace that did not belong to her, yet the purple gemstone was familiar.
Unsettled, she thought back to her dream and recalled the mystic words. Her life was a lie, she must go back home. These mad ramblings made no sense to her. Yet, she had travelled for hours in her dream to another place, far, far away, to a universe filled with questions. In spite of herself, it had awakened her suspicions.
An object suddenly grabbed her attention. A capsule had been left on the edge of the basin. She picked it up. Uncertainty was taking hold of her. Everywhere and in every way. She knew that she had very poor health. She did not know why. She knew she had to follow a specific course of treatment prescribed by her father. She did not know why. She held the capsule hostage in her fingers. She squeezed hard on the exceptionally firm casing. She broke it in half. And she was aghast.
Nothing. The emptiness was a cruel taunt.
Her doubt was replaced by fear. Your life in this world is a lie, she remembered. My life in this world is a lie, she repeated to herself. She rubbed her face with a burning hot hand, trying to contain the panic threatening to sweep through her at any moment. Everywhere and in every way.
What should she do? What could she do? She studied the purple gemstone that held within it certitude and truth. She had to know. But before anything else, she had to shield herself from danger. Provide for her safety. Protect herself. Not understanding her own instinct, she went out of the bathroom and out of her room. She tore down the old staircase and scanned the living room, looking for an idea. The danger she felt was rooted in every part of her already fragile being.
She went into the kitchen, opened the cutlery drawer, considering the different utensils. She seized a finely honed chef’s knife and examined it, pulling a face. Too … what was it … sharp? If she had to defend herself, she would prefer to avoid anything that might make her bring up her last meal. Her attention was directed to a rolling pin. She cut through the air with her new weapon to test its effectiveness.
Satisfied, she returned to her bedroom and crawled under her bed. She took hold of an old floorboard from the dilapidated wooden floor and lifted it up. There was already a notebook in the hiding place. She placed her kitchen utensil inside and resealed the opening.
Precautionary step number one: done. Step number two: discovering the truth. Coming out of the room, Cassandra walked calmly along the corridor. The first door she passed led to her grandmother’s bedroom. She continued to make her way slowly to the end of the corridor. She pushed a second door. It creaked ominously as it opened. She switched on the light.
Cassandra went into the only modern room in the abode. The furniture inside was avant-garde, in shades of white and chrome. There were contemporary paintings and sculptures, dusty curtains and rugs: evidence of how long her parents had been away. She never went into this bedroom. To her, it did not seem to belong to the house. She moved forward cautiously, scanning the room.
What was she searching for? What did she expect? She had never hoped for anything from her parents. Perhaps this was the perfect time to learn more about them. She went over to a chest of drawers and opened each drawer. Apart from clothes folded with millimetre precision, she did not find anything interesting. It was the same for the big cupboard; jackets and shirts, arranged by colour, were patiently waiting under plastic covers.
She was thinking of giving up when her eyes alighted on an object. A painting was looking back at her. A pair of cat’s eyes were painted on a dark canvas. The frame was slightly tilted. She went closer to it, lifted it up, and then took it down. A safe was revealed.
Cassandra raised a doubtful eyebrow. What a cliché! She turned the dial and innocently composed the same code as for the alarm. Click … Click … Click … CLACK! The metal box yielded. She pulled open the door. Inside was a leather document case. She took it with both hands and pulled it out of the safe. Tentatively, she stroked the shiny black cover with her finger then took a deep breath and opened it. There was a pile of papers. On the first sheet was written in capital letters, “REPORT ON OSUT NUMBER 134”.
A great many lines filled the page. Cassandra skimmed over the headings standing out: “Synthesis”, “Salient Facts”, “Behaviour”, “Health”, “Assessment”. What did all these cryptic words mean? Was it a medical report? Looking at the first paragraph in detail, she continued reading.
“Behaviour and reactions as expected, no latent suspicion. Affection towards her grandmother seems to be increasing; hostility towards her parents still as deep. Stable health, satisfactory in her situation. No link whatsoever with her Opram stone; no element hinting at any Opramist talent.”
Petrified, Cassandra tried to gather her thoughts. She did not know whether to panic or to burst out laughing. She hardly dared breathe. What did they expect her reactions to be? What was it about her health that was proving to be satisfactory in the situation? Opram stone, Opramist talent.… She studied the purple gemstone around her neck. In her dream she had heard the term ‘Opram stone’. But what did it mean?
She heard a slam, closely followed by a rumbling sound. The security alarm had been switched off. A familiar voice called Cassandra. She gave a start. Nervously, she put the document case away, abandoning the intriguing reports, and closed the safe. She replaced the picture, tilting it slightly, and switched off the light on her way out to cover up all evidence of her intrusion.
As she went down the wobbly staircase, she could hear her grandmother complaining that she needed help. Before she reached the living room, she thought to hide the mysterious necklace underneath her clothes. Just in time. The woman stood before her, looking grumpy.
‘You took your time! Give me a hand to put the shopping away.’
The old woman had left with two empty shopping bags and had come back with five bags full of provisions. When Cassandra had watched her leave, her heart had been overflowing with trust, but looking at her now, her heart was empty and riddled with doubt. She helped her nevertheless, albeit wordlessly. She was incapable of saying anything; her voice would have betrayed her.
‘Are you feeling better?’ asked the woman. ‘Your sting,’ she added, when she saw her granddaughter’s puzzled expression.
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Let me have a look.’
She came closer, but Cassandra moved back. For a moment, distrust emanated from both of them. The woman moved away and, in a deep voice, she asked, ‘What’s wrong?’
Cassandra felt intimidated and folded her arms to make herself look more imposing.
‘What are you hiding from me? You and my parents?’
A short silence. Followed by a question from the old lady.
‘What do you know?’
For a few long seconds, Cassandra could not speak. She had not envisaged such a retort and she could not access her brain to think of even the slightest response. Her grandmother made her question more explicit.
‘If you’re think we’re hiding something from you, it must be because you know something that would be worth it.’
In fact, Cassandra did not know anything that might be worth it. An undeniably negative feeling was eating away at her, but she did not have any firm proof of what she was putting forward. Besides … what exactly was she putting forward? In response, she pulled on the silver chain and revealed the necklace.
The old lady stifled a gasp of surprise. Various emotions crossed her face. First of all shock, then annoyance mixed with aggression, resignation, and, finally, lassitude. It was in this last state that she went over to her secret cupboard and grabbed a packet of cigarettes from her emergency supply. She lit her precious treasure and, in relief, closed her green lips around the little cylinder.
‘Where did you find that?’ she asked at last.
‘Where it was hidden,’ replied Cassandra.
‘So what? What’s the problem? Apart from crowning your escapade with a shameless theft.’
Cassandra tried to appear firm, relaxed, determined, and in control of the situation.
‘What was the point of concealing the necklace then? Why didn’t you want me to find it?
‘Your parents weren’t hiding the necklace from you but to stop the first thief who came along from stealing it. Jewels cost a lot of money, you know.’
‘Why keep it hidden in the forest?’
‘Because no one would think to look for such a valuable object there. Which leads me to ask you again … how did you find it?’
Cassandra thought for a moment. In fact, she had not found it. She was more under the impression that the necklace had called her. ✦✧ The gemstone was transmitting information to her. She concentrated. ✦✧ But did not understand… ✦✧ She remembered what the stone had said during her long dream.
‘My life in this world is a lie?’ she recited, yet lacking conviction in her words.
‘What on earth are you going on about?’ said the old lady feistily. ‘You did take your medicine this morning, didn’t you?’
‘You really want to talk about the medicine? The false capsules that you force me to swallow?’
‘What? They’re not false.…’
‘Well, go on then, open one up! Why are these capsules as empty as your stupid cigarette cupboard is supposed to be?’
‘Don’t mix my cigarettes up in this conversation! You must really be bored to spend your time opening up capsules. Have you studied pharmacy? Do you think you can confirm or challenge what your medicine is worth better than your father who is a doctor? Do you think you can determine better than him the active ingredient that will protect your health?’
Even if Cassandra knew nothing about this field, she did not let go.
‘Yeah, I think I know better than anyone else what’s good for me.’
Annoyed, she turned on her heels and made a quick exit. “Where are you going?” her grandmother called. But she kept going towards the front door. As she seized the handle, the old lady slammed her fist on the door to stop her going out.
‘Are you going to tell me where you’re going?’
‘I’m leaving.’
‘Like that? Without taking anything? All on your own?’
‘I don’t need anything and I’m not on my own. Am I? I’ve got my Opram stone.’
The woman’s face turned so pallid and sinister that she seemed like the personification of death itself. She stammered a few unintelligible words. Cassandra was worried and asked if she was alright. Her grandmother took her firmly by the shoulders.
‘You must put the necklace back where you found it. How did you know? How did you know about the Opram stone?’
‘It was the stone. It was the stone who called me and told me. And.…’
Cassandra hesitated.
‘And?’
‘And I had a really strange dream. The stone was communicating with me.’
With trembling hands, the old lady lit another cigarette.
‘We’re going to put that necklace back where you found it.’
‘No. I won’t part with it.’
‘Come on, now, Cassandra, it doesn’t belong to you, you stole it from your parents.’
‘I don’t think I did.’
The woman let it go. She knew the battle had already been lost.
‘Right then. I’ll have to have a chat with your parents. Listen, Cassandra. You are quite right. We hid things from you. But it’s not up to me to tell you about it. That’s your parents’ job, so … you’re going to have to wait for them to come back to hear what they’ve got to say to you.’
Cassandra chewed her lip, unable to wait any longer for an explanation. Her grandmother, who was just as troubled, was biting her nails. She could not bear to see so much anguish on the face of her closest relation and tried to calm her down. Slowly, she approached her and said in a soft voice, ‘Grandma? It’s alright. Don’t worry. No matter what, you’ll always be my grandmother.’
Cassandra wrapped her arms around the old lady’s shoulders and locked her thoughts away behind an indestructible wall. This asocial witch counted much more than her own torment. She was her world, her life. In spite of her boorish appearance, this woman carried within her the affection of a whole family. And right at this moment, she did not need more.
Just a little love so as not to succumb to the solitude that was crushing her.
★★✶★★
Cassandra had helped her grandmother to prepare the dinner. A cucumber salad for starters, vegetarian vol-au-vents for the main course and blueberry tart for dessert. No meat-based ingredients, as usual, not out of any moral or environmental conviction but out of economic choice. The old lady preferred giving up an omnivorous diet rather than her collection of guitars and, it would seem, of cigarettes.
Sitting cross-legged on the armchair, she nervously waited for her parents to arrive. Downstairs, there was a warm smell of food, and probably upstairs too. In any other circumstances, she would have loved a family meal. Included notably in these other circumstances were another family, or, rather, it was her parents she was excluding.
She touched the pendant hidden underneath her clothes. The necklace was only an object placed around her neck, yet it reassured her and warmed her doubt-filled heart.
There was a loud ring. Cassandra gave a start. Her pulse went wild and her stomach was in knots. She was so worried that she could not move a muscle. She heard her grandmother opening the front door. Two figures entered through the doorway. With their heads bowed, they went into the hall and on towards the living room. They were carrying cases that seemed to be very heavy.
The old lady called Cassandra. She walked forward hesitantly, without looking in their direction. She stood at a reasonable distance from her parents and greeted them in a faint voice. They replied to her in a tone without expression.
Her grandmother asked Cassandra to help them take their luggage to their bedroom. She complied obediently, particularly keen to get away from her father and her mother. She caught hold of two cases and tried to lift them. Ouch! She had been too hopeful.
‘It weighs a ton!’ she said in surprise.
‘Oh yes, at least. Come on, hurry up.’
As Cassandra was moving away, her grandmother turned gravely to the two individuals.
‘We need to talk.’
Her parents nodded and followed the old lady to the kitchen. Cassandra pulled the first case up the stairs, not worrying about the din it made. She put it – threw it – into the bedroom then went down again to get the second, the third, the fourth and the fifth. ‘You’ve got to be joking, do they really need so much luggage?’ she said to herself, becoming annoyed. Finally, she came to the end of her task. Her back was paying the price.
Before leaving the room, she glanced briefly at the magnificent cat’s eyes and thought about the safe hidden behind the painting. Right at that moment her grandmother was telling her parents the secrets she had discovered.
What would their reaction be? Should she demand an explanation of the reports she had read? She clutched her stone and let out her breath, relieving herself of the stress that was eating away at her. Despite her aching limbs, she raced downstairs again, now feeling shattered for the rest of the evening.
She caught sight of her grandmother, an impenetrable expression on her face, and the outlines of her parents, who had their backs to her. A scarf was wrapped around her mother’s head; a few strands of brown hair were poking out. Her father was wearing a black beret.
Cassandra did not like dwelling on them. So, when they turned, she looked down and stared at the old floor. They were moving closer; she could hear the creaking, and the shadows were moving towards her.
They asked her to follow them. Her parents sat down on the sofa. Her grandmother sat in the armchair. Cassandra remained standing, leaning on the wall near the television. Not because she was addicted to its amazing flat screen, but the window nearby meant that she would always be able to get out, just in case. The feeling of insecurity was definitely still with her.
‘So, you have discovered the necklace,’ said her father in a scornful voice.
Cassandra did not reply. She waited with her arms folded.
‘You are like a cat on a hot tin roof, so let’s be brief,’ he declared.
What’s he talking about? thought Cassandra. Her body was not conveying any outward signs that her father could see.
‘Your grandmother has explained to us about the object you found. Let’s get things straight before we continue this discussion. In order to unearth this object, you needed to go looking for it, which meant going outside the walls of our house. This unhealthy curiosity, this disobedience and this betrayal cannot be tolerated. This behaviour is unspeakably shameful. I’m sorely disappointed. You will never be trusted again. Do you hear me?’
‘Yeah, yeah. Did you want to make it shorter? You could save a lot of saliva if you got right to the point.’
Her father stared at the old lady, clearly unsatisfied with the education Cassandra had been given. Her grandmother smiled, proud of her granddaughter.
‘We’ve got a confession to make to you,’ he announced. ‘I don’t know how to break it to you, but … Cassandra, that necklace is yours. It’s all you’ve got left. It’s all we know about you.’
Cassandra knitted her brows, not sure whether she had understood. The man continued, taking charge of all the explanations. His wife remained resolutely silent, with her lips pursed and a cushion clasped in her arms.
‘That necklace was … with you … when we found you, when you were only a baby.’
Found? Baby? What was he talking about?
‘I can appreciate the difficulty in apprehending such information,’ explained her father, ‘and even more so the difficulty of acquiring this knowledge and accepting it as the truth.’
Cassandra gave her grandmother a bewildered look.
‘Look, Son,’ intervened the woman, ‘if you want her to understand something, be direct, alright?’
‘You’re not my parents, is that it?’ Cassandra understood. She was taken aback and slightly relieved that it was not for nothing that she hated them.
‘That’s right,’ replied her father. ‘We found you during our first humanitarian mission. We won’t tell you where. We won’t tell you how. All I will tell you is that you had that necklace around your neck.’
‘Found.…’ repeated Cassandra, pulling on the silver chain to reveal the pendant. ‘Why won’t you tell me anything? What are you afraid of? And why hide this necklace? Why was I never told anything?’
The man raised his hand to interrupt the deluge of questions he was being assailed with. He waited a few seconds, appreciating the sweet silence, which was proving to be torture for Cassandra. He took from his pocket a metal case and removed a cigarette from it. Slowly, he brought the object to his mouth and lit the end with an understated openwork lighter.
‘We only wanted your happiness,’ he affirmed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. ‘We didn’t know whether telling you the truth would contribute to it, so we preferred to hide it from you all this time.’
Cassandra clenched her fists, ready to cave in. Her whole life was ungrounded. She was not part of their family. She did not have a family. She had been taken in and cradled in illusions until this present moment. All for what? Because her “parents” only wanted her happiness.
On the basis of this assessment, she might have forgiven them and made an effort to piece together all the things she was sure about, all the bases of her existence that had just collapsed. Yet, she could not ignore the suspicions pulsing within her. Why could she not believe in the word ‘happiness’? Why could she not trust them?
She recalled the lines written in the reports she had uncovered in her parents’ bedroom. In what circumstances could this happiness play a part in the detailed analysis of which she was the main subject? She stared at her pendant. They had written the words “Opram stone” and “Opramist talent” on their documents. They knew more about it than they wanted to reveal.
‘Where does this necklace come from?’ she asked.
‘It was with you when we found you, as I’ve already told you.’
Without looking at this man, whom she only knew how to hate, Cassandra pondered his answer. He was lying. Everyone was lying to her. ✦✧ Her rage boiled up inside. ✦✧ Her teeth were grinding, her muscles contracting. She needed to be reassured. ✦✧
The gemstone was sending her a silent message, a soothing flow running through her mind, urging her to keep calm. ✦✧ Cassandra felt alone, yet she was not. She clutched the pendant and breathed out a sigh of relief. She had to follow the stone’s intentions and keep a cool head. Without her realising it, her thoughts crossed the barrier of her lips in a soft whisper.
‘You’re right.’
Although it had been uttered as gently as a murmur, the sentence resonated in her family’s ears like a sinister roar. Her parents were staring at her in disbelief. Her grandmother’s forehead was creased with worry. They were analysing her, interpreting her, dissecting each one of her movements, however small. Suddenly her father got up.
‘What are you doing?’
Cassandra looked at him in turn; or at least she studied the shadow concealing his face. She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. But the man was not mistaken.
‘Are you communicating with the stone?’
Cassandra let go of the pendant and cracked her fingers defensively. Why was he asking her this question? Or rather, what importance did the answer hold for him? She shook her head wordlessly. The animosity between the father and her daughter made the air heavy, the tension between them palpable. Each was weighing up the other, like wild animals ready to fight to defend their piece of land. Cassandra was not going to let him encroach on her territory.
You can choose track number 5.
The man ordered her to give the necklace back to him. Needless to say, she refused. He became threatening, took several steps forward, and stood towering over her. He blew a cloud of smoke over his cornered victim. Why was he suddenly displaying such vehemence? Did he fear the gem’s communications?
Just as he was reaching his arms towards her, Cassandra glanced at the magnificent television. She pushed it with all her strength, forcing her father to move aside. Then she seized the handle of the window and turned it. Her emergency exit. The window creaked open. Fear spread deep inside her. She was intimidated by this man, he scared her. No matter how illogical his reaction was, an inner voice was urging her to flee. Without a second thought, she climbed up and jumped out into the newborn night, but a hand grabbed her and pulled her back.
She fell onto the old wooden floor, this detestable individual holding her down while her mother switched on the house alarm. The electric blinds sealed the windows with a long mechanical noise.
Cassandra trembled all over. She was overcome with fear. But in this particular instance, fear became her best friend. Despite her slight build, she thrashed around every which way, waving her arms and legs, and rolled on the floor until her father let go.
Throwing one leg in front of the other, she jumped over the remains of the television and ran, paying no heed to the man’s onslaught of verbal aggression behind her. With her heart beating wildly, she ran upstairs. Her pendant was swinging heavily on her chest. What could she do? Shut as she was in the house, where could she escape to? They were bound to find her. They would catch her in the end. And what would happen to her then?
She put her worries to one side and hurried to the end of the corridor. A cord was hanging from the ceiling. She pulled on it to open the trapdoor leading to the loft. She could hear footsteps following her. Too near. A voice barked behind her.
‘Don’t move!’
She turned around. The barrel of a gun was pointing at her and her own father was holding it. Cassandra’s jaw dropped. Was he going mad? Was he really planning on committing murder? No, surely he wasn’t going to assassinate his daughter, whether she was adopted or not … was he? For the first time, she tried to read the expression on his face, but it was too dark to see his features. Dumbfounded, she moved several steps back, unable to turn away from the silvery glint flashing fatally before her.
‘Don’t move!’ yelled the man again. ‘Come this way!’
Cassandra refused. Why was he losing his mind like this? In a way, she actually knew very little about this man. Perhaps this display of madness summed up his true personality. She shot up the ladder into the loft converted by her grandmother. Dust motes were dancing in a ray of moonlight, a solitary glimmer of hope coming from the skylight.
She skirted a collection of guitars and hid behind a beam. The wooden floor was creaking violently. Not far from her, several people were moving around. They were too near her. Cassandra moved slowly back. Very cautiously. Right into the trap.
A metal object made the back of her neck turn bitterly cold. Her shivers froze her blood. Her mother was behind her, holding her at gunpoint, without deigning to utter a single word. She was trapped. She heard her grandmother telling them to stop their madness. This precise word imprinted an idea onto Cassandra’s mind. It was inspired by the old lady’s philosophy: the best response to attack is counterattack. Based on this, perhaps the best response to madness was also madness.
With all the pure madness she could muster, she elbowed her mother in the stomach and threw herself on top of her. She bit her on the wrist and wrenched the weapon from her hand. The adrenaline made up for the weakness of her muscles. The woman was just an outline. A mere shadow in the darkness. She was not her mother. Cassandra did not feel any remorse. She pointed the barrel at the female shape.
She heard her crying but did not care. Her finger caressed the trigger, just like the sharp claws of danger that were brushing against her existence. A blow struck her shoulder, sending her against a wall. Her father let go of his substitute club, namely what was now a deformed guitar. Her mother took advantage of this to pick up the gun that Cassandra had dropped. The man grabbed his daughter sharply by the collar and forced her to stand up again. She tried to struggle and to shake him off, but his strength far outweighed hers. Two guns were now aimed at her. She could easily perceive the threat slicing into the thread of her life. The individual grabbed hold of her violently. He pushed her out of the loft and led her to the living room.
She was frightened. So frightened. Terribly frightened. She looked for comfort in the face of her grandmother, who was keeping her distance. The old lady was continuously biting her black-painted nails.
Her father forced Cassandra to sit on the sofa. The man rummaged in the medical chest. He removed a first aid kit and took out a ready-to-use syringe. It was a syringe that his daughter was not acquainted with and that she did not count on ever becoming acquainted with.
Her parents had to hold her down on the cushions. She struggled, kicked, protested, rolled, tried to free herself.… However, her weak constitution was no match for them. The man poured a bottle of water onto her face. The liquid flooded her throat and drowned her breathing. She coughed and spluttered, powerless. A pain spread through her arm. The needle was injecting its substance.
Cassandra hiccupped. She was panic-stricken. Her heart felt tight in her chest. Her whole body was throbbing in pain. Fear was folding in on her. Black marks were clouding her vision. She was afraid. She felt alone. Disorientated. She could no longer see anything. She no longer felt anything. She no longer was anything.
She was nothing but a lie.
