DISABILITIES CHRONICLES

- Are you okay ? Wasn't it not too hard to come ? She asked him as he got off the bus.

She had come to welcome him at the bus stop. He had deliberately chosen an apartment in the center so he could come home at any hour of the day or night when he got drunk. She knew he had made an effort to travel those kilometers to her place... She stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. A friendly kiss, of course. He was very tall, probably two heads taller than her. They both felt a little awkward, not quite knowing what they were doing here, on a Sunday afternoon in this ghost town.

- No, it was easy. He replied quite mechanically, without really looking at her. He was already walking towards her residence at a rather brisk pace. 

In fact, yes, he knew very well what he was doing there ; it was simply that usually, he didn’t walk miles to do it. The city center was his favorite hunting ground. The bars, in particular. Because in clubs, you had to dance. And that was not his strongest asset for charming girls and getting them into his bed.

- So, what are we eating ? He asked in turn. 

Although the main dish was her. Yes, he had come to sleep with her and barely hid it. 

- Italian food ! Since I can’t travel to Italy, I’ll seek the sun like this... It's a pretty cloudy weather, today...

- Ah, okay. He replied, not more curious than that. And how is your ankle ? He asked, more to keep the conversation going than out of curiosity. 

- It’s getting better… 

They were now walking side by side like two strangers. At a certain distance and without looking at each other. When they reached her apartment, he sat down on the sofa. Two Pastis were placed on the coffee table for the aperitif. They had tried to eat on the terrace, under the fresh breeze of the linden trees and their summer manes, but Pamit had complained about the mosquitoes. He had also complained about the food, which did not suit his taste buds. Kebabs and other pizzas appealed more to him. Not to mention the Indian curry chicken. In short, he preferred the things he was used to, a bit like children who only like fries. So they had retreated to the living room. No need to drag this story out any longer anyway. He didn't plan to linger here. He would chat a bit, drink, take some ketamine to make it better, he would fuck, and leave as he came. Now that's a recipe that works ! He was still curious to 'taste' her. There was something special about this Frenchwoman, after all. A quirk that didn’t leave him indifferent. In short, she wasn't stupid at all. Well, he would soon be leaving anyway. After doing what he had to do…

- So, Sweden was good ?

- Yeah, not bad, I hooked up with a Swedish girl… 

The conversation immediately shifted to this more or less cultural aspect of Sweden.

- Oh really, that’s how you are ?

- Well yeah, what do I have to lose ? 

- I don’t know, I think it doesn’t make much sense, you’ll never see her again…

- So what ? It was nice, we had a good time ! The rest, we don't care about.

- I find you quite cynical. It's like you don't care about anyone.

- Yeah, I don't. You can block me tomorrow, I don't give a shit about it ! He laughed theatrically to emphasize his superiority and indifference.

- And with the Korean girl, did you keep in touch ? You experienced so many things together ! She continued, after pausing for a moment, to kinda put a bit of softness in the conversation.

- No, it's over, she went back home. I don't believe in long-distance relationships.

- That's more of a good excuse to move on to the next girl…

He didn't reply. Probably out of modesty. His Sikh culture sometimes took a little precedence over him. But deep down, he still wanted to live a western life, with cultural or religious traditions that weren't too burdensome, mainly based on food, because curry chicken tastes good. She noticed that he hadn't taken off his sunglasses.

- Why are you wearing sunglasses when we're inside my place ?

He immediately took them off, with a defiant look.

- You have something there... She said, pointing at his right eye. 

- Yes, I know. His tone had become aggressive. 

- How come ? She insisted, unable to suppress a mocking smile. His right eye was squinting, with an empty gaze. That's true. She quite liked the idea that this Don Juan was in a position of weakness for once.

- I had myopia surgery when I was younger... in Canada. The operation went badly. 

- Yet, I thought the technology was more advanced than that over there...

- Canada is not the United States. And back then, it was different, the machines weren't that refined... He retorted, a jaded look on his face. 

He must have been asked that question often and was probably tired of answering it. 

- How long ago did it happen ? 

-10 years. But with the contact lenses, it’s going very well. His tone was no longer as aggressive but still firm enough to make his interlocutor understand that the discussion was now closed.

He had a strong character. Even too strong. A character that camouflaged a deep lack of self-confidence, like a kind of ransom, compensation. She had put herself at a good distance from him on this couch to let him know that they actually weren't obliged to fuck right away, that they could also talk beforehand, to get to know each other at least a little.

She felt that she had opened a breach, managed to penetrate a fragment of him, of who he really was, by shedding light on one of his weaknesses as she had done. This could not be denied and it was quite destabilizing.

He lowered his dark eyes and drank the Pastis cul-sec. Then, he resumed the thread of the conversation as if nothing had happened. It was him, this time, who would choose what they would talk about. He would regain control of the situation, down to the smallest detail, as usual. It would be of course a superficial topic, and above all, that would not involve talking about him.

 DISABILITIES CHRONICLES

I found myself there again, in the middle of the street, waiting for Mehdi to be done. Passersby slowed their pace, glancing at us out of the corner of their eyes with modesty, sometimes with a kind of palpable shame. Rare were those who mocked us. Of course, they tried to understand what we were doing there, in the middle of the sidewalk, Mehdi sitting, staring blankly, rocking his body back and forth frantically, and me, sitting next to him. I could do nothing but… be with him.

Even during our nighttime walks near the lake, when there weren't many people around, he often found himself seized by panic attacks. The setting sun illuminated our two heads. The sun shone for all of us, and for Mehdi, wrapping him too in its summer rays. Because the sun couldn't care less whether Mehdi was autistic or not. When it was exposed, it was for everyone to enjoy. And the yellow and burnt grasses of La Ramée perhaps made the situation even more surreal for the people passing by. As if we were filmed in some sort of movie scene.

Mehdi was a young adult now, and I continued to accompany him almost every summer evening to the lake. Even when he didn’t ask me to. It wasn’t just about walking and taking him out, like you would take a dog out. This evening stroll had become, over the years, our moment together. A special moment where I no longer had to wash him, dress him, feed him, or explain anything to him. A moment where he and I walked side by side without sometimes exchanging a single word. A moment to enjoy the view, the air, our presence.

No, it wasn’t a movie scene and my life was far from resembling a film since Mehdi was born. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one raising him. I had asked my wife to take care of the child, fully knowing what kind of life awaited me. What kind of life awaited US. Allah had decided it that way. So be it.

- Let’s go Mehdi, we still have 1 km to go before we reach the lake ; if we hurry enough, we will arrive for the sunset ! 

Mehdi had started to smile, and it was often at this sign that I knew he had regained his senses. His smile always had that absent, uninhabited quality about it. Some would even say it was a madman's smile. I knew that smile by heart and was sure that this smile, as mad as it was, knew me too.

PARTIE 5

Mais pour tout dire, j'avais soif. Oui, soif. Car même si mon hôte pensait (de temps à autre) à me donner quelques miettes de gâteau, mon bec restait impitoyablement sec. Oh, j'avais bien tenté la gamelle du chien. Mon aile guérissant, j'arrivais de mieux en mieux à me traîner jusqu'à la vieille paillasse faisant office de cuisine. A vol d'oiseau, elle n'était guère pas plus qu'à 4 mètres de là... Enfin, je sentais bien que ça tirait quand même pas mal, c'est pourquoi je m'y prenais toujours à plusieurs fois pour faire l'aller-retour et achever mon voyage... 

Mais à en juger par le goût âpre de cette eau, l'homme ne devait pas la changer beaucoup. N'ayant que ça à me mettre sous le bec, je faisais avec. 

Au bout de quelques semaines, mon aile avait totalement guéri, et ça, ça n'était pas grâce à l'homme, qui s'était totalement désintéressé de moi ! Il me fallait donc me rendre à l'évidence : Il me fallait partir. Oui, mais pour aller où ? Encore que ça, j'en aurai une idée claire une fois délivré, grâce à mon magnétique sens de l'orientation ! Quoique, retrouver mes congénères ne s'avèrerait pas être une mince affaire... Non, la question qui me brûlait n'était pour l'instant pas celle-ci, mais plutôt : Comment partir ? 

L'homme n'ouvrait jamais aucune fenêtre pour aérer et c'est sans doute aussi la raison pour laquelle ça sentait le moisi. Mais j'avais remarqué que l'homme parfois lorsqu'il rentrait, marquait un large temps d'arrêt parce qu'il était ivre, s'arrêtant sur le seuil de la porte pour regagner un peu ses esprits, avant de la claquer violemment et d'enlever ses savates pour aller se coucher. Je le voyais, en ombre chinoise, de l'autre côté du couloir... Et j'avais calculé qu'il mettait 4 à 5 secondes avant de claquer cette porte, hébété qu'il était... Ce qui me laissait, à vue de bec, le temps nécessaire pour voleter vers ma nouvelle destinée.

Et c'est ce que je fis, un soir, alors que l'homme stagnait sur le pas de la porte, le regard ahuri, perdu dans le vide. Me voyant m'enfuir à grandes ailes, il tenta de me saisir par les plumes, mais ne pu rien en faire. Il brassait l'air avec ses poings, qu'il ouvrait et fermait frénétiquement, mais j'avais déjà échappé à son emprise. Certes mon aile me faisait toujours mal, mais je pouvais recommencer à voler, et surtout voler librement ! 

DISABILITIES CHRONICLES

The atmosphere was really nice. The sky was clear and it smelled good like the sun. It seemed like even the strawberries that mom had put on the birthday cake smelled like the sun, even though everyone knew they came from the supermarket. It's such a lucky thing to have your birthday in the summer, because even if some friends have gone on vacation, we can still celebrate it outside and invite people ! This year, we decided to celebrate my birthday a little later in the evening and share the meal at the lake so not to bother the neighbours.

We were seated at a wooden table facing the lake. At these wooden picnic tables. We were at the moment of the meal after the birthday party. Everyone was at the table: my parents, my little sister, my uncle, his wife, and their children... Except for me. I was on a special chair, far from the table. I couldn't even reach my own birthday cake because it was too far away from me... To be honest, even if I had been close to the cake, I wouldn't have been able to touch it. Because a deformation of my hands and arms prevents me from grasping anything. I have no hold on anything.

Yet, it was indeed my cake on the table, a magnificent strawberry cake with heart decorations on the side. But it was mom who was feeding me so that I too could enjoy my own cake. Sometimes, the slices weren't big enough, and I would grumble a bit, and everyone would tease me: “C'mon, Louis, you aren't gonna get upset over such a little thing… You’re gonna have plenty of cake, don't worry !” they all said, smiles on their faces. I am sure it was benevolent. But they didn’t understand that it was more than just a story about cake and whipped cream, more than just a story about slices, but about the inequity of life: Why the hell had God given me a body that I could not use ?

They always say that life has a meaning, but it depends on who you’re talking about. This cake seemed to taunt me from the table, just like my friends who were playing ball and running at full speed a little earlier during my birthday party, while I couldn't take a single step, a stupid hat on my head with stars as a consolation prize. My body was a broken machine that nothing, not even the most beautiful of parties, could repair.

DISABILITIES CHRONICLES

Serge had lost his job due to an economic layoff. No need to code algorithms anymore, artificial intelligence was now doing it very well ! He was therefore in professional retraining, searching for something he could do to earn a living, and also, it must be said, to give purpose to his life. Him, who had only ever lived through screens, felt like he was deprived of existence without them. Without a computer, it was like he lacked a role in this society. It was these machines that somehow conferred his legitimacy. Without them, he could no longer express his potential or his creativity. Because the latter only manifested through the software he improved, always taking great care to keep his emotions to himself... He only allowed himself to have emotions about things that never put him in danger, virtual or non-committal things, or only things related to pseudo-secure family matters.

He was thus now spending his time in a certain boredom, having lost faith in his own usefulness in the world. What could he possibly do to help others ? Him, who was now sinking like a stone, unable to help himself !

One evening, as he walked alone through the streets, he came across a huge illuminated display window. People were performing in front of it with slow movements, like a kind of Thai-chi, but embellished with dance, as it all seemed improvised. They were not facing the display window but rather the spectators who could also be seen. However, it was as if they did not care about that either, intertwining together in a sensual ensemble, adjusting their movements to one another in improbable tribal symmetries. One foot over the other, a leg gracefully withdrawing from that of its ephemeral partner. And always with an inspired and transported facial expression…

Sometimes, they would quicken the pace, jumping in this pure white room from top to bottom. It was neither a bar nor a library. Serge moved closer to the entrance door. Not to go in, no, he didn’t want to be a killjoy. Just to understand what this place was that hosted these strange people… A man, very tall and slender with long black hair, was playing the flute. He looked like a magician. He already had many wrinkles on his face, but for some unknown reason, it was clear that his wrinkles were much more laughter lines than frown lines. Tibetan bowls surrounded him.

"CULTURAL ASSOCIATION" was written on the glass entrance door.

“Were there still people who believed enough in the human being to give their time like that, for free ?” He thought associations were nothing more than a thing for elderly people…

"Do you want to come in ?" He was asked.

He turned around. A young brunette woman was standing in the doorway and smiling at him. Yes, she was indeed talking to him. For once, he was the privileged interlocutor. Him, who had spent the last few years locked behind a desk in front of a computer executing tasks in the shadows.

- Uh yes, why not... He ventured, a little intimidated by the young woman's wide angelic smile. Did he really deserve so much attention? 

She opened the door a little more and he stepped inside for the first time. From the inside, of course, it was quite different. To be honest, it was even much better. The golden and soft light made everything even more beautiful, the sensuality of the dancers' movements, the depth of their gazes, everything. 

The music had actually no melody and was curious, but soon, as he sat among the few spectators, he felt drawn to it. Or rather, he wanted to mingle with this group of strangers. He didn't know them but wanted to get to know them, to taste them through their gestures filled with tenderness and beauty. He wanted to join this circle of madness too…

And it was as if the young woman had read his thoughts:

- You can join them if you want. The second part of the outing is for improvisation.

- Oh really ? He asked, a bit dazed.

- Well yes, totally ! But I advise you to take off your shoes, you'll be more comfortable… If you want, I can come with you.

- I don't know, I've never done this in my life… I'm not a very good dancer and even less of a choreographer.

- Neither are some of us, I assure you ! She replied, laughing. 

- She held out his hand, and he didn't hesitate any longer. She was wearing strange clothes, but she was so pretty, at least to him… Serge was about to inhabit his body for the first time. And also his heart. He didn't know if he would find a job again, nor how much time he had left to live, but for now, and perhaps for the first time in his life, he felt like he was truly living.

DISABILITIES CHRONICLES

My gaze wandered through the bus window. Not really contemplating the view, because apart from the pavement and the worn-out buildings, there wasn't much to see. No, I was looking into the distance, a nice tune in my mind and to be honest, I was daydreaming.

I was dreaming, lost in a world that I created from almost nothing. In short, I could afford the luxury of getting lost in my thoughts, right there, in the middle of an almost empty bus on a Saturday night. A quiet Saturday night, where I had nothing else to think about but myself. No constraints, no obligations, no urgency.

I was daydreaming when suddenly I heard a small voice rising from the front of the bus. A small voice, but marked by a certain authority. The voice of a little girl, but a little girl who had incredible confidence for her age.

"The door, please." She asked in a strong and calm voice. She wasn't shouting, in fact, and her voice was simply raised enough to be heard over that of the driver. A polite yet firm voice.

Surprised, I turned my head. Indeed, there stood a little girl in the bus aisle, she couldn't be more than eleven years old. She was not alone, but accompanied by a lady in a wheelchair. The door opened and a sort of ramp came out to connect the sidewalk to the bus.

The lady was able to get off the bus without any trouble, closely followed by the little girl, who was keeping an eye on things. I followed them with my gaze through the window. Upon reaching the sidewalk, the little girl sat on the lady's lap. The lady activated the electric lift of the chair, and they both went up the very steep street together, nestled against each other.

PARTIE 4

J'eus le temps, pendant ma convalescence forcée, d’observer un peu les lieux. C’était une chance que nous soyons au printemps car cette vieille bicoque ne devait pas être équipée d’un chauffage ! La tapisserie du salon, dans le dans lequel je me trouvais, était ornée de fleurs roses sur fond de marron mordoré… Elle était déchirée par endroits, grignotée par des insectes à d’autres. 

En parlant d’insectes, j’avais bien faim, car l’homme qui m’avait recueilli s’absentait souvent, et lorsqu’il revenait, il ne pensait pas toujours à me ramener un morceau de pain. Parfois, j’avais droit à un morceau de gâteau rassis, mais c’était bien rare ! L’homme, la plupart du temps, rentrait ivre, et se rivait sur le canapé pour s’y étendre de tout son long, non sans avoir balancé sa paire de gaudasses à travers la pièce. S’ensuivait alors pour toute la nuit des ronflements pour le moins sonores. C’est comme si toutes ses entrailles s’étaient donné le mot en même temps pour vibrer à l’unisson dans un seul et même son rauque et entêtant. 

Un soutien-gorge l’attendait toujours sur ce canapé défoncé gris. Toujours le même, un soutien-gorge bleu d’une taille généreuse, avec de la dentelle. L’homme ne le lâchait pas de la nuit, il le serrait même étroitement contre lui comme un doudou. Comme si en fait, ce soutien-gorge faisait office de femme ; une femme qui l’attendrait là, toute la nuit, fidèle au poste, le temps que Monsieur daigne revenir après toute une nuit de périgrinations. Le rêve de tout homme, en somme, non ? Mais nous autres, nous ne sommes pas sans fantasmes non plus, c’est pourquoi nous chantons. Nous chantons pour les libérer dans l’air, nous ne les gardons pas enfouis comme vous dans les limbes de notre fierté et de notre peur du jugement. 

Assez tard dans la matinée, j’attendais que l’homme ouvre l'œil et se réveille complètement pour lui glisser quelques piaillements dans les oreilles, histoire qu’il comprenne que son invité avait faim. Je ne voulais pas le brusquer non plus, car je savais qu’il pouvait se montrer un peu nerveux et n’avait pas envie d’avoir le bec ficelé jusqu’au lendemain matin (au mieux) ! Il me donnait donc un petit quelque chose, puis s’en allait et on ne le revoyait plus avant la fin de l’après-midi, pour “l’apéro” comme il disait, qu’il prenait avec un autre homme vraisemblablement du même âge. Alors ils trinquaient, trinquaient, trinquaient jusqu’au bout de la nuit et là, je pouvais être sûr que j’aurais droit à deux concerts nocturnes pour le prix d’un. 

Quant à mon aile, elle se rétablissait doucement. Comme par miracle, la plaie rétrécissait à vue d'œil et me faisait beaucoup moins mal. L’homme ne semblait pas y prêter plus d’attention que ça et cela m’arrangeait bien, car lorsqu’il s’ennuyait et qu’il me touchait pour regarder son état, c’était toujours d’une façon pas vraiment délicate. Il lui arrivait aussi de me parler pour me raconter des choses qui parfois n’avaient aucun sens, et dans ces moments-là, je me voyais aussi gratifié de postillons. J’attendais le jour J que mon aile soit complètement rétablie. J’avais un plan !

Once upon a time, in remote lands, a young popular king, loved by his people, lived a peaceful life. One day, his kingdom was attacked by a big Empire.

He couldn’t compare… In distress, he was willing to ask a demon of mountains to help him.

Then he hit the road to the mountains to find him and deal with him.

The vampire : Welcome young king, you shouldn’t hang out here. What are you doing in this sinister cave ?

The king : An emperor is willing to invade my lands within a few days and he will enslave my people. Currently, he’s heading towards us ! I can’t let him do so ! I’m the king here, and I ought them the protection.

The vampire : Mmmmmmmmh, I see… And what can I do to help you ? You know, I’m just an hermit living in caves for centuries…

The king : Are you Similodon ? I’m sure that’s you I’m talking about. 

The vampire : Where have you heard about this name ?

The king : My father told me a lot about you. He told me about creatures like you who formerly terrorized all the world during centuries thanks to superhuman powers. But, a king discovered that silver was their weakness and was used to annihilate you. We named you ‘Vampire’. I was told there is still one of this kind hiding in these mountains, named Similodon.

The vampire : I can see you are well informed. How do you dare to pronounce my name and invite yourself to my place ? Give me only one reason not to kill you on the spot right away.

The king : Because I could give you back your past glory, yet I need your help to decimate the army which plans to threaten my people. I perfectly know you couldn’t refuse such an opportunity obtaining that huge amount of blood at once ! 

The vampire : Yet you know, my friend, I could even fulfill myself with only your blood, that’s to say a king’s one… But, hold on ! Mmmmh, let me think… Yes you are right. It’s true I have been locked up for such a long time… Then I suggest another deal. Drink my blood and you’ll become one of mine for eternity, and we’ll defeat them altogether.

The king : To become a Vampire ? Are you kidding me ? Never would I go for it !

The vampire : Given your position, my dear friend, be sure you are not able to bargain with me. Look, you came to me. I would let you leave this place only as a Vampire, instead you will attend the massacre of your own people.

The king : True demon you are ! But I do not have the choice here… If I can’t save my people, then I would better die. Yet if my destiny is all about becoming a vampire, I’d better know how it feels to be a Vampire before dying… Tell me all about it, please, pity me ! 

The vampire : From the moment you will drink the blood onwards, you will feel strong and powerful, and be sure no one will be able to stop you. Yet the counterpart will be, you will be undergoing an irresistible desire of blood… Drinking Human’s blood will become your favourite meal ! Also, the silver will be the only weapon possible to take the power over you. You’ll have some weaknesses though. Indeed, if you are exposed to a crucifix, you will lose your strength, then they will have to plant a piece of silver into your heart to get rid of you. Also, you won’t be able to get exposed under the sun, otherwise, it would burn you. Finally, you’ll have to get used to only live night time. 

The king : Too much time waiting, stop talking and give me your blood right away !

Then the king drinks vampire’s blood and becomes one of them. 

The king : Telling the truth, I’m feeling weird right now… I’m feeling so powerful… Like I would be… Immortal.

The vampire : For sure my brother. I told you so, now, you are to be considered as the most powerful creature on this earth.

The king : I definitely don’t feel well… It’s like I’m better and weak at the same time… Hope my body will cope with the situation… Yet fellow, don’t forget to keep your promise, instead I will come back to kill you with a silver crucifix, and never mind if I’ll mean to die along with you. 

The enemy troops are probably arriving soon. Let’s not waste our time here. Let’s go now !

The vampire : Don’t worry my fellow, you know, due to loneliness, I’ve been waiting for such a long time so far that I’m definitely ready for these adventures ! Be sure, we will be drinking to the fullest and sucking these necks until the last drop. I’m hungry !

The king and the vampire defeated the empire army in a flash and easily. The kingdom has been saved but unfortunately not the king’s destiny.

The king : I am glad that I have been helped to defeat the enemy and courageous enough to face such a dull future that meant to happen to me and my people… Yet it’s true that I turned into a kind of monster and I feel guilty to deal this way with the Devil. I definitely can’t come back to my home and face my relatives. However I perfectly know that I couldn’t escape that faith, given the threat going on back then. It was my destiny to exchange my life with this new one and I accept it. I hope they’ll understand that I won’t be able to see them again, because I’m willing to hide that curse from them. And I hope this way, that they’ll keep a good reminder of me. 

The vampire : I must admit you are valiant. From the very moment you drank this cup onwards, you didn’t belong to this world anymore in the same way and couldn’t go backwards. You were aware of it, nethertheless, you didn’t change your mind. Come on my fellow, don’t yield into the temptation of falling into sadness. You can keep a fulfilling life the way you used to do and yet being a vampire at the same time if you wish ! Both can work altogether, you know. For instance, look at me ! I don’t give a shit about all of these tales related to morals, ethics, human beings and so forth, and I’m damn good in my shoes ! You should walk around the world along with me and we will be satisfying our irresistible bloodlust by protecting these so-called little vulnerable kingdoms. Let’s have fun here !