@crisch23
"The Strange Coffee Lover"
An afternoon with strange and deformed clouds opens the doors to the darkness of dusk while the decadent sun hides, leaving a trail of violet colors causing a smile on the sweet old lady with a kind face, who delights in the spectacle offered by nature through the small window of her room, allowing the passage of the last rays of light to the room of bright white walls, which are tinged with light yellow for a few seconds while she moves on her rocking chair talking aloud.
— “Thus ends another day, with nothing new to tell, beyond the memory of always my dear companion.”
He only responds by nodding his head, while pouring himself another cup of coffee, to continue listening attentively as he fixes his disturbing gaze on the older woman, waiting for every word.
The grandmother continues her story full of anxiety and uneasiness, bringing to the present the days of that weekend at the lake, which are fixed in her mind forever.
— “Do you remember the majesty of that lake?”
— “Who would have thought it hid so many secrets!”
But on the other side, a disturbing silence was maintained for a few seconds, only to be interrupted by the sound of dry lips, which absorbed with thick gulps the last drops of the cup of hot coffee, which flooded the whole place with that delicious aroma so characteristic of a well-selected bean.
Without uttering a single word, the gloomy character refilled his coffee cup again, to continue paying attention to the story.
— “Yes, I know you like to hear it every day, but the memories in my worn-out mind may not be as accurate as everyone expects them to be.”
— “A fog hugs my memory, about a few minutes that are completely erased.”
— “However, my thoughts take me back to that special moment every time I try to think about what happened, but I will make another attempt Anchan, here goes my story:”
The afternoon was showing its beauty just like today, I was walking dazzled by the orange colors of the sky reflected in the lake, while I was submerged in sadness for the mistreatment my father inflicted on me for being different, his intricate mind, could not accept that I was not a religious fanatic like the rest of the family, what is worse, my mother and brothers supported his terrible decisions to beat me with whatever was within his reach, to supposedly show me his contempt towards the way I dress, act and perform in life.
They could never understand that times change, I was fascinated by the life that opposes the traditions based in the last century, the freedom of the human being was more important than anything, that's why I enjoyed so much participating in the protests against the war and the adventures of the caravan of free young people, who gave me a place in their bosom, as part of a new family.
Here things become blurred, on that sunset I sat crying my sorrows on the shore, feeling the salty tears full of bitterness slipping from my eyes swollen from the blows, which were already turning as purple as the sky. I only had my thermos full of coffee to console me, bringing some sweetness to my life, delighting myself with several cups of the hot drink, which made a supernatural strength blossom from the depths of my soul, which was enlivened with each sip.
Filled with courage, I finally entered the tent in the forest to face my father and his lackeys, throwing in their faces my vision of life without caring about the consequences, showing them how little I cared about their doctrines and opinions, announcing that I would finally leave their once and for all because in the lake I found an unexpected revelation from your hand Anchan.
The sound of the liquid pouring again into the white ceramic cup interrupted once more the story, causing an inevitable distraction in the old woman who was fascinated to see how Anchan drank coffee again, without offering her even a sip, while showing on her face a disturbing smile.
— “How can you do that in front of me?”
— “Give me coffee, you perverse spawn! I need it urgently.”
— “Hand over that thermos right now, or I'll kill you, I swear!”
— “Your life will end in my hands, just like my family's!”
— “Let me out of this straitjacket at once!”
The character finally got up from his seat with a wailing face, to say only these words, which echoed throughout the room:
— “My name is not Anchan, that is a demon your mind invented.”
— “I am his treating psychiatrist”
— “We are still without progress, let's hope that in tomorrow's session he will be able to remember why coffee was the trigger to commit such cruel acts, worthy of a ruthless monster.”
Thank you for reading
This is an Original Story written by @susurrodelmisterio for Hive.
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© Copyright 2022 Susurro del Misterio
