The Mime

Chapter V

Time stood still, literally, at that moment, and I could barely hear the clock. Anyway, no form of speech could translate what I felt, because only my heart and my gestures would succeed. This time, I was not miming. It was just after a few seconds that I realized that I was revealing a smile whose origin was unknown to me. But I knew that I had to react formally to give the impression that I would obey and that I would succeed at all costs. Then he shook my hand and whispered, summing up:

-I know you will make the right choice.

After that he left leaving me to face my own fate. Before deliberating on anything, I hastened mindlessly to the crates overflowing with provisions. Hungry, I tore the antelope meat from my teeth although it was terribly hard and stiff to chew. But I ate without success because a big ball of anguish was stuck in my throat and refused to let any crumb of food pass there, leaving me no choice but to collapse on my bed, finally, that of grandfather. And so the evening was over.Since that day, I have not seen him again, although it has only been four days. His presence was missing in the house, but I knew he was giving me the necessary time to think before summoning him. All this, with the hours, became more and more frightening, maddening, stressful, worrying and leaving no room for sleep, I did not even have the priority rights that a person is supposed to have, but then to migrate? Obviously all this is in Paris, in France, in Europe. It was suffocating me and I had to get some fresh air at all costs. I walked out to the river side of the Seine, its waters glistening in the rays of the wintry sun, this place almost deserted and there were barely a few peddlers resisting the cold and the snow which blocked the passage. And that just to bring the imagination to my mind, because where the hell could I go? This thought was incredibly dulling to me, I've never felt so empty, I really wish Grandpa had been there at that time. Suddenly, in the middle of the wide snow-covered bridge, I saw a young child pass by carrying around his neck a basket overflowing with newspapers. The wretch was barefoot, these rags sewn up everywhere, despite a few holes that exposed his bony body, thin and full of horrible scars, his sweaty and weak hands holding a newspaper in the air desperately looking for customers, his disfigured face by the cold, his exhausted, drooping sapphire blue eyes, his nose that's downright scarlet, his plum-colored lips, and his flat cheeks. That was all enough evidence to classify him as a humanoid. Those eyes met mine for a moment, and then he limped over to me hoping I would buy him a newspaper, I think. But once in front of me, he muttered in a dying tone words such as:

-Paris... The world will die...

And he collapsed on the ground, in the snow, all the newspapers scattered on the ground, some had even rolled under the effect of the wind and fell into the water. The wretch had nothing left to sell until the end of the day. The sun disappeared immediately, hidden by heavy gray clouds threatening a snowstorm. The sky turned gray despite the late hour of the day. The few merchants had returned to their homes, all the shutters were closed, the doors the same, you could no longer see a cat trotting around, this atmosphere gave way glaucously to a terrible deafening silence, life had at that moment made a certain halt, and I myself dared not move under the presence of the child whose soul was about to fly away. He shivered for a moment under my incoherent shock. It had all the form of a nightmare, but unfortunately this nightmare had invaded reality and I felt controlled in my every move. The child continued to tremble oddly his cheek glued to the snowy ground, and mumbled once again "the world will die... it's inevitable...". His hand was still clutching a newspaper even though it was totally screwed up. A moment later, as if coming back to life and regaining consciousness, I threw myself at the boy's feet and shook him before trying to pick him up, I patted his cold cheek in the hope that he would open his eyes, without success, I slapped him this time with tight lips in vain, I moved him like maracas, without success... The storm started, the snow hit my face and I barely felt my shivering fingers, but I didn't only had eyes for the child. His hand relaxed and the newspaper suddenly fell into the water, he stopped shivering and shaking. I foolishly hoped for a moment to discover that it was too late and I had intervened too late, as always. It was a soulless body now. Uncontrollably, tears began to roll down my cheeks, melancholy had caught up with me and I felt so guilty that I would die on the spot seeing this scene, and, without thinking a moment longer, I push the corpse in the icy water which immediately disappeared. It was horrible, I was horrible. Behold, because of my person, a soul had flown away. And the snow continued to beat on the city and I could barely stand; the wind was going at an incredible speed... I thought that if I hadn't pushed him into the water, he would have been found, and maybe I too would be accused, condemned, and that will only reinforce the bad luck that holds my soul hostage, yes because this time people will have proof; "Just after seeing Emile Ward, the young boy lost his life. ".

I had stopped thinking, in fact I didn't want to go anywhere, if it would be just to reach the afterlife. But I will stay in Paris for now. François Philip will die one day, and I will find myself alone again, it was inevitable. I mechanically ate my meals without paying attention to the taste. I could have eaten dirt, stones, sand, I would hardly have noticed. The world was getting darker and darker and the sky was now permanently gray and the snow kept falling. But I am destined to live this. I was always destined to live like this.

François Philip tried to console me incurably, give me hope, but in vain. A decision made is a decision made. Not to leave is my choice, although several elements prompted and influenced me towards this hasty decision, anyway I no longer felt capable of thinking, it was as if an unknown organism had come to take control of me- even, I felt permanently watched, watched by this fatal, gray and funereal sky dominating Paris. But before hating this sky, this city or this unknown organism, I hated myself. Me unable to react to a situation, me, pessimistic and incorrigible, the main humiliation of François, what good for nothing I am! To believe that François really thought that I could change the world! I am unable to feed myself on my own, so to migrate? It was just absurd. To top it all off, the snow which had nothing wonderful or "glittery" about it, was trying hard to keep and increase the coldness rate. This snow could melt only in one year, my faith! I knew that a toxic negativity had taken hold of my mind, I had known it for 24 years now, but it was impossible for me to get rid of it, I unfortunately got used to it, and I don't I was not the only one, the whole city was on the verge of extinction, since it gave off a powerful, uncontrollable and indomitable atmosphere of death; Since when the hell did Paris see the good blue and clear skies of yesteryear? I now understood what the deceased child meant, and I agreed in turn because yes, the world will end up dying sooner or later.