The Portal of Anaya - Book 1 - The Origin

Chapter 1 - An unexpected visitor

An unexpected visitor

She sat on the park bench and looked at the fallen dead leaves on the ground. The autumn gold leaves shone reddish in the light of the sunset. A light cool wind was blowing, almost chilly. There were many people in the street, but no one seemed to notice her. Not even a homeless man that walked by very close to her. He showed no desire to get a few bucks. He probably had his thoughts far away, as his face bore a languid expression that was not clear whether it was laziness, sadness or melancholy. She followed him with her eyes as he walked unsteadily across the square. – Maybe he was drunk – which wouldn't be surprising. Many homeless people resorted to addiction to endure the abandonment in which they lived, while others were taken to begging because of a habit that made them lose everything: jobs, property, family, friends, dignity and finally hope. He carried a huge bag on his back, as dirty as his clothes and himself. His bare feet were filthy, like his hair, which by neglect, had become a great tangle of black and grayish wires noted with each other. – He could hardly comb that hair again – she thought – even if it was washed with plenty of shampoo and a whole tube of cream! – She then noticed that the footprint of his left foot left a small bloodstain and he was limping. – So, this should be why he walked so unsteadily. It was likely that he had stepped on some sharp object and perhaps still had it or part of it stuck inside the wound. – She concluded. – She continued to watch as the man walked on and tried to imagine why he was living in the streets. – Was he born thus, under a marquee? Had he never had a real home and a warm bed? – These questions began to bother her. Her parents were dedicated helpers of social causes and throughout her childhood and adolescence she rebelled against then. Felling their absence, she considered them distant and silent, thinking they cared much more about strangers than their own daughter. Looking, now, at that man, already on the other side of the square, which looked more like a stray dog than a human being itself, she felt ungrateful and immature. For many years, she behaved badly and very much hurt hers parents who, despite everything, had nothing but loving words for her. Teary eyed and heart tight with remorse, she tried to push those thoughts away.

She was now noticing the flight of birds that noisily sought the shelter in the tree branches around her, signaling that it was late afternoon and it would be night soon. She tried to focus, but the very landscape seemed to mix with the turmoil of feelings vying for attention in her mind and hindering any decisions. She could not define what she felt, so how could she know what to do. She looked at the leaves moving in a dance choreographed since the beginning of time. Each dry leaf knew its steps; the time to move and what other leaves would be its partner. She wished to be one of them, continue her life without having to take any decision, only to indulge in nature and let it be responsible for leading her into her right role.

She didn't know how long she had being sitting on that bench or even how she got there, but knew she had to look for a place to go that wasn't her house, or the home of anybody she knew. She opened her purse, pulled out her wallet and counted one more time how much money she had. This was all the money she possessed. She had just left the bank where she cleaned out her account. Still, there wasn't enough to last a month or at least to keep the same standard of living for a month. She remembered then that she was in a bustling metropolis, in an area with high levels of violence and she had already been robbed three times in that neighborhood. She looked around, tense, looking for signs of someone who could be watching her. At the same time, she hastily put the wallet back in her purse and placed it on her lap, hugging it as if it was her only way out of the decision she couldn't make.

- Would she be able to start a new life? Could she be strong and stay true to the promises she had made to herself? What about her parents...? Would they miss her or be relieved that she was gone? – These thoughts arose simultaneously, with no order to them. On the same side of the square, between the weeds growing wildly and dirt left by pets or street animals, some children played in a few abandoned structures. There were three swings, one with the chain broken; two seesaws of worn wood; and a slide, in which the ladder was missing a step. She remembered how once she had been a child too and that the swing was her favorite. -How many years since she had last swung in one? Probably about 15 years – she recalled, nostalgic. – The streetlights were already lit for some time now, the sky darkened quickly. She tried to look through the cover of the trees hoping to see some stars and noticed that the birds had stopped their song and were already sleeping. She squinted, insisting to see what wasn't possible. Her eyes were blinded by the excessive brightness of the streetlights that illuminated the square, marking her cornea with bright blinking spots of light. She remained distracted with this optical effect for a time until it dissipated completely. She tried to focus again, but still had no idea where to go.