Concorso di scrittura creativa in lingua straniera

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“White nights”

It was a cold winter night in Galway, in the Christmas period; imagine

streets decorated by light, hot chocolates,Christmas songs, comfy

grandmothers’ scarves and ‘80s film marathons...can you feel the

atmosphere? Awesome, we can start then.

I’ve always loved the winter season, since I was a child, because I used

to watch all those old movies on tv with my dad and host my relatives for

Christmas dinner. This season has always put me into a calm mood,

especially when there was snow, like that day.

I woke up that first day with a particular sensation, like that day would

have been just for me and for my pleasure; I love when things are where

they are supposed to be...yes I am a precise person, not because I like

being meticulous, but because of my Ocd. It stands for Obsessive

Compulsive Disturb and, for those who don’t know, it makes you do

every single thing in a maniacal order.Summing up, ‘you’re not the one

who has control, your disease has’ like my therapist enjoys saying.

Anyway, morning and afternoon passed very fast: I took a shower, read

a book, tidied my room in a methodical order and helped my sister

Harriett make some muffins.

She had been invited to a party at her boyfriend's house and so was I,

but I planned to reach my destination on my own and walk around

Christmas markets in Galway, with the hope to find some nice gift

inspirations.

In the early afternoon I prepared to go out with my messy bun, brown

jumper, grey coat and of course my boots; my parents and Harriett

decided to go to a lightshop to get some new decorations for our

Christmas tree.

At five o’clock I started walking towards the city centre, the sun was

starting go down and I was trying to pay attention not to slide on the ice,

while listening to Modern love, an american podcast that my friend

Isabella suggested to my hopeless romantic self; I smiled at that thought

and stopped for a second on the little bridge I was crossing.

The sun reflecting into the cold water of the river gave little pink and

yellow shapes to the water, which kept scrolling down in a satisfying way.

 

I started losing my warmth so I decided to pick up the pace; I had almost

arrived at the city gates when I heard someone calling for help near the

iced part of the river.

I tried to spot the person but I couldn’t see anything, and I stepped on to

see better, but it was a second: my foot sliding into the thin ice layer, the

water wrapping me up, breath took away, and then just confusion.

I tried to fight against the water around me and resurface, but my heavy

clothes kept pushing me down and down until my arms got too tired to

fight and my eyes tired of being open.

“Hello?”

‘I’m not drowning anymore’, was the first thought that popped into my

mind.

‘Am I still alive?’, the second.

One of my eyes slowly opened, revealing a tall figure in the shape of a

guy.

“What’s happening? There was someone calling out for help from the

river” I heard my mouth saying those words, but somehow I felt like I was

a trillion kilometres away from that situation.

“Everything’s alright, don't worry, you are safe now”

The guy in front of me relaxed his expression as soon as I sat down; we

were in a place I’ve never seen before: everything was lighted but in an

enjoyable way, almost comfortable.

“I am Dean, by the way, nice to meet you”

I smiled.

“Abby, my pleasure. Thank you for saving me”

“Oh, but I didn’t”

‘What?’

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know, you were lying here on the grass, pouring from head to

toes, I thought you might need some help. You know, it’s not exactly the

greatest time to take a bath”

I stood up and started looking around: there was no street anymore, just

trees, bushes and the calming mour of the river behind us.

I turned up to Dean, but he seemed confused at least a half I was.

“Are we blocked here?”

 

Dean nodded his head and for a second we locked eyes; we had both

adrenaline, but we weren’t scared, maybe because of the lights, I have

no clue.

“It is wrong, I have things to do and I haven’t planned this to happen”

I started losing control.

“Me neither, I was out fishing with my dad, when my fishing rod got

trapped into a branch that pulled me in; of course ice broke and i fell

down”

“You were the one who called for help!”

“I think it was my dad. Why did you say that you didn’t plan on this to

happen?”

There we go.

“I am obsessed with having control over everything, so when something I

didn’t plan shows up, I’m not the happiest girl alive”

“You don’t like complications”

“Yes, we can say that”

“How? I love them, you literally create memories by complications!”

I did not expect this reaction, but I like how he didn't think I was

possessed by a well-organised disease.

“What can I do mate? I was made like this”

“Ugh, I think you should let go your tension and learn how to live real life,

without planning it on a list”

Cheeky but so right.

“I’m trying to, but it’s not as easy as it may appear to tons of people: it is

so easy to say for y’all! Stop making planners, stop being so precise,

stop thinking too much about what you’re going to do but do it without

putting in so much effort. It’s not simple like in words, trust me”

His face became serious for what seemed an eternity, I could tell he was

carefully reflecting on what to reply.

“I am a complication, so do you regret meeting me too?”

Oh.

“...no, not really”

Silence.

“You know, my sister and I usually skate together at this time of the year,

and we’ve brought our skates, would you like to skate with me?”

After a couple of minutes we were carefully speeding on the ice, all the

time in this world blocked for us, when all of a sudden Dean curbed,

 

turned around and said: “I’ve always been scared of living an ordinary

life. All my life I’ve been chasing after adventures to escape the routine

of a normal existence; there are lots of people in this world who have

everything they want, but are so poor inside that they don’t even

remember what they really like. My biggest fear is ending up living like

them, between a stressing job in a stressing city lived by stressed

people. I may be considered different from the others because I run after

my dreams, the future that I want to build for myself, but in my opinion

being ourselves is the biggest goal somebody can achieve”.

In that precise moment I knew. I knew that my need to make plans about

basically everything wasn’t a disease, a virus, but was part of my brain,

my deepest insecurity manifesting, but with a more scientific and elegant

name.

I stood right there without saying a word, because I figured out words

weren’t enough to fulfil both our emotions.

I headed towards the shore, unhooked the skates and gently put them

aside; then I sat down on the grass, took some muffins out of my bag

and breathed deeply.

After the third muffin I noticed that Dean came lying down next to me, so

I decided to bring out what we were both thinking since we met, a couple

of hours before.

“Are we dead?”

 

I once loved

Throughout her life Karin had always been judged and almost always considered weird and

out of the norm. When she was five, the girl and her parents moved from Sweden to the US.

Since she often mixed up English and Swedish pronunciation, all of the children in

kindergarten made fun of her. In elementary school her classmates liked to tease her

because her parents never came to the events organized by the school, and at home she

was stuck with her cold hearted mother. Her father was abroad more often than not and she

didn't see him often, yet he was the person she was the closest with, that’s why she always

looked forward to seeing him. However, every time he came home and stayed for more than

a couple of days, the girl had to put up with her parents' constant arguments. She started

wondering why they had decided to get married in the first place. At the beginning she wasn't

even bothered by it, she thought it was normal since their relationship had always been like

that. But after one of her friends pointed it out, she too started to notice just how morally

wrong their interaction could be, especially in the eyes of someone whose parents were in a

healthy relationship.

Eventually, Karin decided to bring it up during one of her usual video calls with her father.

She didn’t say anything at first, because she still wanted to catch up with him before

potentially ruining the mood for the rest of the night. But once she actually asked him about

it, her father immediately went quiet and she regretted it right away. The expression he wore

on his face was priceless, and Karin would have probably started laughing if only that

happened in another situation. A few more seconds of silence passed, her father fixed her

with a troubled gaze and told her that it was an issue they shouldn’t be discussing by

themselves. After he said that they kept talking for another while before they both decided to

end the call. She then hung up and stayed there laying on her bed, empty minded. The next

thing she knew it was already three in the morning, but she couldn’t get herself to sleep no

matter what she tried. What her father said made her think a lot, and she would be lying if

she denied that she was utterly scared. Not even once he brought up his wife in one of their

conversations, so the matter seemed serious. When the girl woke up the next day her

mother had already left and she was kind of relieved that she could get more time to prepare

herself to face her. Her father wasn’t going to be home for another week or so, but from the

shouting she heard the night before, she guessed he already told her about their

conversation. Still, Karin tried her best to ignore the bad feeling she felt and to remain

focused on school. Although class wasn’t a place that brought her comfort, it could be a

useful distraction until she found a better option.

When her father got home, they didn’t talk about it for the first few days. And if the heavy

atmosphere was anything to go by, it seemed like no one really felt like discussing it at all.

But since her father had always been one for transparency, he was the one who practically

forced his wife and her daughter to come downstairs and clear things up. They talked for

about an hour before they all went to their respective rooms again. Karin had managed to

keep a straight face for the whole conversation, from the time her mother started describing

the undying love she felt towards her husband, to the moment she said how much she had

always despised the idea of having a child. Even when she told how she would have

probably aborted her if her family and her priest friend hadn’t talked her out of it, Karin was

surprised she could actually keep every single emotion she was feeling at that moment from

 

showing. After they finished talking, Karin went to her room without saying a word. And even

if she stayed in there for almost a whole week and skipped school, neither of her parents

said anything. Her father tried to talk to her at first, but seeing no point in continuing, in the

end he just made sure she didn't skip any meal and reminded her that he was always by her

side.

A month passed, and Karin’s life had seemed to be back to normal. Except it wasn't. Maybe

it looked like it to her classmates or to her friends, but her parents knew how she was feeling

after knowing the truth. She rarely spoke to them and never left her room, even if it was just

to have a decent meal. Seeing how bad the situation had gotten, her father told her that he

was going to Sweden during the summer, and he asked his daughter if she wanted to tag

along. The girl immediately accepted, she would have done anything to not spend the whole

holiday alone with her mother. She was also glad she could finally go back to her motherland

after so long, even if it was for such a short time.

After they landed in Sweden, the first days passed by unpacking and cleaning the house.

Even though her father lived there during his stays in the country, he probably didn't bother

keeping the space neat. Karin didn't bring much stuff with her, so it didn't take long to settle

her things in her childhood bedroom. Back when she was a child and they still lived in

Sweden, she didn't usually spend much time there. She mostly stayed with her grandparents

while her parents were at work. So, even if that room was hers since she was a kid, she

didn't have any memory connected to it.

During their stay her father’s friends often invited him over, and he often brought Karin along

with him. And since all the families they visited were all very nice, the girl didn't really mind.

But every time she saw how all the members of each family got along well and loved each

other deeply, she couldn't help but feel kind of jealous. She would have done anything to

have a relationship like that with her parents. Only in one of the households they visited she

did always feel welcome. Maybe it was because of the similarities between that family and

hers. The owner of the house was a single woman with three children, two boys and one girl.

Both her sons lived in the States with their father, while her daughter Mejken lived with her in

Sweden. The two of them had a really good relationship, just like Karin and her father did.

And maybe that was why she never felt uncomfortable while visiting them. Neither of them

asked anything about her mother or about her family in general, and that was something she

really appreciated. Among all the teens her age Karin met through her father, Karin

particularly liked Mejken. In fact they got along especially well, and right after meeting for the

first time, they soon started to spend time together. The girl somehow knew that what she

felt for Mejken was infinitely different from what she felt for her friends back in the States.

They were much more close, and they understood each other perfectly. The thought scared

her at the beginning, but after she talked about it with her father it felt like a huge weight was

lifted from her shoulders. What she was feeling was totally normal, something she could

have shown to the world with pride, if she wished to. Despite being more comfortable with

that idea, Karin kept pondering about where her feelings could lead to. Only when the end of

the holidays was approaching and she had a clearer image of what she really wanted, did

she decide to talk it out with Mejken. They discussed the matter a few days before Karin’s

flight to the States, and everything went well. Mejken said she wasn't ready to face the

consequences of their hypothetical relationship, so they decided to take it slow. They were

 

extremely happy and even after the melancholy of Karin’s departure, nothing changed

between them.

After a year of not seeing each other, the only thing Karin could think about while hugging

Mejken at the airport, was how glad she was of accepting her true self and being able to

stop hiding behind hurtful lies like she did in the past.

 

And we fell and rose like the Moon and the Sun

 

When I was a child, my mother used to tell me that the Moon was jealous of the other stars of the

sky because they had their own light but she didn’t, she was different so she tried everything to be

accepted. She found a solution: the Moon started to reflect the light of the sun, so that also she

could light up the earth. The problem was that she wasn’t always in the same position and neither

were the Sun and the Earth, so she was always different but she didn’t like it.

I have always been interested in astronomy, I was reading another book related to the subject

leaning on the counter of the “Art Café”, the cafe where I worked. It was around 7 am and I was

waiting for the people to sit at a table and ask for the usual as if there was nothing else in the menu.

People are ordinary, they are habitual, the are static. The logic that people follow is: “do what people

do, follow the mass, be what people expect you to be” and this only because being yourself in a

world of pawns is difficult and scary. If everyone is the same as the others than there will be no

choice, no alternative, you won’t be able to think with your own mind because others did it for you.

The first costumer came into the café and I had to abandonee my book.

When I got home to my small flat in Oxford, it was late and I was very tired but I still had to study. I

was what the society expected me to be. I was a model student, a model worker, a model daughter.

I was trying to drink my coffee while reading about the brightest star, Sirius, when Alice, one of my

best friends, called me: she wanted me to go out with her that evening to this new pub everyone

was talking about, but I had to study so I declined the offer. “Oh, come on Aruna you need to have

fun, be a normal twenty-one-year-old girl” Alice said. Those words broke me: why wasn’t I normal?

“I am normal” I replied. “I didn’t mean it seriously keep calm, so are you coming?”. She was a rich

English girl who lived in a big detached house with her rich entrepreneur parents, she has always

had everything in her life. I declined again and hung up the phone.

The next evening, I went to a restaurant with my dad; my mum died when I was 10, that was

probably the most hurtful moment of my entire life. Me and dad, after her death, couldn’t stay in

the same house anymore, everything tasted like her, so we moved; when I started university, I

moved again and I rented a flat nearer. We were sitting at a table in the corner of a luxurious

restaurant, we were talking about school and work. “So, Aruna how’s school?” asked my dad. I was

studying law at Oxford but I didn’t choose the course, he chose, he said that it would be useful for

my future career, easier to find a job. “It’s fine, right now we are studying civil right, I’m working

hard” I answered. “Good, and where are you working right now?”. He actually didn’t care so much,

after my mum’s death he married another woman and they had two children. “Dad I told you a

million times, I work part-time in a bar not far from here.” He showed me his sons’ pictures, ignoring

how much I was hurt by that, he didn’t have one single photo of me, but I was still his daughter,

wasn’t I?

Anyways, by 11 pm I was at home, I went straight to the balcony; I wondered if my mum could still

look at me and see how I was wasting my life. When I was little, she was the only person I could talk

to and even after her death she still was. “Mum - I cried – what should I do? Why is everything so

complicated?”. Suddenly someone answered me: “Well, those are very intricate questions but

maybe you just need to see things from another point of view.”

I looked at my left and saw a boy, he was Elia, my neighbour. According to my friends he was odd

and I agreed. Ha was everything but ordinary, he applied to my university and he was a philosophy

and modern languages student. “That was private moment!” I realised that before I had shouted

 

questions to an inexistant person on my balcony, which has no walls, only after those words slipped

through my mouth. Either way it was too late to apologise since I had already left.

As I got in my bed, under the blanket, I was still thinking about his words: maybe just needed to see

life in a different perspective.

The next day I went to university because I had a lecture of German law; then I went to the library

with my friends to study, we were talking about the following day: we wanted to go out for lunch in

a restaurant near the university. “Why don’t you bring Josh tomorrow?” Sarah asked. Josh was my

“perfect” boyfriend, the type of boyfriend who is liked by the parents. “You know, I don’t think it’s

a good idea, we’re having some problems” I answered; actually, everyone knew that he wanted to

break up with me, indeed Sarah asked that with the only purpose to annoy me. “What a pity, he’s

so funny” she smiled, the most fake smile I’ve ever seen.

I didn’t even know why I was friends with them, they were cool and everyone wanted to be with

them, so hanging out with them was a sort of reward for everything I’ve done in my life, it was the

proof that I was exactly like the others.

What Sarah didn’t know was that the day after we broke up. “I can’t handle you anymore” Josh

shouted; I burst into tears, he couldn’t leave me, he was one of the pieces of my puzzle and if he

left then all the other pieces would break away. “You tried so much to be like us but not enough to

succeed” saying this he walked through the door and left my flat. I called Alice because I needed

moral support but unexpectedly, she said: “well he is not so wrong...what I mean is that you copy

us and you’ve always done, you are just an empty soul who need to be fill with others personality,

you’re just a white page. Now I need to go, bye”. My life was gradually crumbling, everything I knew

didn’t exist anymore. To give me the final blow, my father with his perfect family sent me a photo

of them at the zoo smiling, I wasn’t part of the family.

I couldn’t breathe, my lungs didn’t expand, they didn’t let the air in, it was like being underwater,

my body refused to let the oxygen pass through the trachea. The sugar wasn’t reaching the organs,

the blood wasn’t flowing, it was still motionless at the moment when my whole world fell in front

of my eyes without giving me the possibility to save something. With my heavy breath and my

rushing heart I reached my bedroom still thinking about how I saw my life slipping through my

fingers as if it was water, as if I’ve been living in balance on a wire with 100 meters under without

being aware of that. My thoughts were running too fast and my mind couldn’t process them all, I

had headache and the only thing I wanted to do was crying. Before I knew, I was lying down in my

bed and my pillow was becoming wet because of my tears.

I woke up in my room and I still had headache and my eyes hurt because of the tears. I remembered

the feeling of yesterday night, the loneliness and the sadness. I remembered the panic I felt. I had a

panic attack and I didn’t know who I was anymore, I wanted to break all the masks I wore during

the past years and be whoever I really was, not a pawn anymore. I changed. I changed friends, I

found out that Elia was actually a lovely person and his friends were wonderful, they didn’t judge

the others, they were just themselves and that’s why my old “friends” didn’t understand them and

called them “odd”. I changed course at university, from law to physics and philosophy, which was

what I really wanted to study. And I changed my mentality, indeed I finally stopped doing everything

just to make people proud and began to make myself proud. I was a person, a real person with my

own personality, my own thoughts and my own intelligence. What people find hard to understand

is that you don’t need to be someone else to be happy, you can make your own happiness just by

being yourself.

 

“So, Aruna, are you in for tonight?” asked Andromeda. Me and my new friends that night wanted

to go to a pub. “Yes, of course”. We said goodbye even if we would see each other that evening. Me

and Elia walked together to our condominium and as we approached, he said: “do you know what

do our names mean?” I shook my head to say no “My name means sun and your name means moon,

love in Japanese”.

In the end the moon realises that she can’t be like the other stars because she is not like them; no

one is identical to someone else, everyone is particular and beautiful the way they are.

 

THE RACE

I did it because everything I used to see around me was like a glaze. I couldn't see

something that wasn’t a perfect polish covering the truth. People had this perfect

appearance, the nicest clothes, nicest hair, nicest voice volume that even scratching and

digging that coat of soft perfection it was impossible to find something that was rough and

concrete: anything was done with the only purpose of looking good, not even a wild

obsession for the aesthetic led that. Though it may seem strange, their feelings, their

thoughts and their other inner qualities seemed even more contrived as their souls were

dressed in plastic. I remember spending hours staring at them, at their lives, and always

wondering why they had to be that flat and sterile - until I looked at myself.

I considered the situation from the outside, while we were all waiting for the race to start: I

was just like the others and I had nothing that could create the impression I was different. In

short, I had been a hypocrite all of the time, and I hated myself for that.

Hence I’m here, in the middle of the track standing still and hearing the disappointed voices

around: they seem really upset because I "failed them" but I have never been happier.

In three minutes the race was going to begin, the teacher appointed to referee was at the

finish line with his arm up and as soon as he put it down we would detach our hands from

the tar and our legs would fight against the friction just to run faster and faster until one foot

overtakes the finish line. I could perceive their desire to win, it was like a voice in their head

was telling them they needed to succeed and I felt kind of sorry for them; they were actually

pitiful, with their hair up in drawn ponytails and their skin-tight leggings, praying to be first.

I began to convince myself that their obsession with being like the others, the wish of fitting

in with the popular wasn’t different from this race: in the same way they chased beauty and

appreciation they were now chasing a medal.

It was the most pathetic feeling of my life the moment when I realized they - or better we -

were trapped in this, we are not the only ones to blame I guess.

The race commenced and I ran as speedy as I could just to be meters ahead of them and

see them overtake me once I stopped, as I pointed before, in the middle of the track.

They didn’t notice at first, they were too busy thinking about surpassing the others, about

having the eyes of everyone on themselves - as usual - with this race they were just

following their craving to not be left behind: it actually didn’t matter if they weren’t the firsts,

the goal was to be a step in front of someone else, the aim was just to keep running and

never let something stop you, not a mate falling nor your personal tiredness; just keep run

after a perfection you not able to get.

I stopped. They were all in a rush and I stopped. I just told my muscles they didn't have to

move anymore and I started to feel the blood flowing into my whole body, relaxed - what a

peaceful sensation feeling the air tenderly slapping my hair instead of punching my eyelids

while I try to go against her. I gave up and rejected all this stupid concept of dashing for

something I don’t even want.

I now see their expressions while they put their bodies past me, they are confused but this is

going to last only a tiny stint, they can’t get the reason why I made this silly decision, they

don’t see the point in doing so.

Yet this moment lasted for a really short time and now they turned their heads to the finish

line again and they’re running, a little bit less worried because they know someone who isn’t

them is going to be the last.

 

I watched the landscape around me and for the first time in a long time I noticed how truly

beautiful the faces of people are, and it really pisses me off learning that the destination of

the race is to become all the same, that we have to be in a rush all the time just to kill our

inwardness. No different features, no different laughs, no different clothes and no different

thoughts, so that we can be more easily manipulated. I reject all of that and I refuse to keep

running.

I lost the race, as expected, but I have no regrets. I don’t want to live my life in this toxic way

where everything is just a step I must reach. In this life where people see competition as the

only aim of life, I want to dump this mentality and enjoy my journey, whatever it’s going to

become, for the respectable reason that everyone has a distinct path to follow and I loved

taking time to walk mine. I think I chose to claim my diversity and everyone should.

 

Roloway, the sheep that became a monkey

 

"If I had known that being yourself would lead me to this point, I would have preferred to

remain a sheep" thought about Roloway crying and trying to remember the events that had

brought her to that moment. Roloway lived in a small village in the Liquintos mountains.

Families of wolves and sheep lived here for generations. Roloway lived in the house next

door to that of Bianca Sheep's family, who had always been her best friend. Growing up

closely with Bianca, Roloway had convinced herself that she was a sheep. But on her tenth

birthday she realized that she was neither sheep nor wolf. "But what am I then?" she asked

her mother desperately. “You are a monkey, Roloway. We are lucky that you and I are able to

live off the fruits of nature, like sheep, but are also able to be agile and strong like wolves ”.

Roloway was unable to appreciate the words of her mother and she decided to go to the

wise tortoise Tete, who had always lived in the village and gave excellent advice to those

who were ready to listen to it. "Tete, you are a tortoise, but did you know that I am not a

sheep?" the tortoise, giggling, replied: “Of course I know, Roloway. There is no doubt: you

are a monkey. You are neither a cowardly sheep following its own flock, nor an arrogant wolf

that detaches from the pack. You are special. ” When she came out of the tortoise's house

the little monkey felt terribly confused and she naively believed that no changes would be

made to her life: after all, until then she had always been a monkey without even knowing

about it. In fact, the next morning it seemed as if nothing changed. For this reason, Roloway

quietly mounted her bike and she went to school as she always had. She wanted to talk to

Bianca to express her fears and insecurities, in hopes of getting reassurance from her friend.

But when she crossed the threshold of the classroom she found herself in front of Lila, the

she-wolf. She was known for the fact that anyone standing in her way would only receive

hurt. She, together with the wolves Gigi and Nella, acted like the overlords in the class. But

Roloway had always ignored her: she was never interested in playing with her. "Hi Roloway,

I heard you are a liar." "What do you mean?" Roloway asked confusedly in response.

"Rumor has it that you have claimed for 10 years that you are a sheep, but now it turns out

that you are a monkey" Lila said with a grin on her face. "I didn't pretend to be what I am not,

I just never knew what I really was", said Roloway. The she-wolf did not respond to the

monkey's findings: after all, what she said was indisputable. “In any case, I think a monkey

like you shouldn't be here with us wolves and sheep. You'll never be part of a herd or a pack,

so there's no place for you here." That said, she forced her out of the classroom. Left alone,

the poor little monkey burst into desperate tears. Where did she go wrong? She was a

monkey, but could she be blamed for that? As she wiped away her tears, she saw Bianca

walk out of the classroom. "Roro is everything okay?" her friend asked worriedly, seeing her

in that state. “No that's not all right! What have I done wrong to be treated like this!? ”. “My

friend, the wolves are just jealous. Who has ever seen a monkey here? You are different and

this makes you special!”. Roloway felt happy and relieved to hear those words and to see

that someone was still able to understand her. However, at the same time, a question from

her spontaneously arose, insinuating doubt in her heart: "Why didn't you express this

thought in front of the Wolves?" she then asked Bianca. As soon as she did, the sheep's

smiling face immediately went out. The statement she would make following this question

made her feel extremely embarrassed: "How can I contest the words of a wolf?" Bianca said

almost in a whisper and hoping her best friend hadn't heard her. At that point, Roloway

realized that Bianca had chosen not to defend her, that one of the most precious people to

her had thought of herself first, before her. In the end, what did she expect from her? Bianca

was a sheep. Slowly the monkey became convinced that she was wrong. If it wasn't worth

defending her, did she mean it was nothing? If she had been told she was wrong, then it had

to be. She then began to show up less and less at school: by now her class had become a

 

court of law, and, coincidentally, she was always her own defendant. She couldn't take it

anymore. She returned to Tete the tortoise to tell her about the situation. “My dear Roloway,

avoiding the problem solves nothing. If you stop attending school you will make those pests

that are your classmates believe that they are right! You don't have to worry about the

opinion of others, only about your own.” Roloway didn’t know what to say. “See Roloway,

each of us wants to conform to society. To do this, you will sometimes behave like a sheep,

other times like a wolf, but never like yourself." The tortoise was right. The next day she went

to school proudly. Once in the classroom she said to her classmates: "I am a monkey who

for years believed I was a sheep. Perhaps because I thought and behaved as one. But that

was not the case. I don't care to be your friend, nor to be your enemy. I only ask for respect

and to be recognized for who I am." It would have been wonderful if her classmates, after

she expressed her feelings so sincerely, finally understood the little monkey. Unfortunately,

this was not the case. Lila, Gigi and Nella began to divulge that, whoever stayed by

Roloway's side, would turn into a monkey, as well as that fleas were passed among the

animals of the village. Little by little they all began to ignore her. The wolves made up all

sorts of rumors about her. While the sheeps, fearful of being excluded, avoided any contact

with the little monkey. Even Bianca left Roloway alone. They had grown up together yet,

faced with the choice of becoming an outcast, or acting like a friend, Bianca had taken the

simpler path. One evening, after another day of glaring and whispering, Roloway went out

for a walk and came to the fertile fields of Liquintos, she sat down on a rock and looked at

the moon. "If I had known that being myself would lead me to this point, I would have

preferred to remain a sheep" thought Roloway crying. "Don't cry little monkey," she heard

someone say in the distance. It was the tortoise Tete who, having seen her go away towards

the fields, had followed her. "It is not easy, is it? Being honest with others and with yourself I

mean. It means taking off all masks and standing there, virtually naked. You are not your

own creator, you cannot choose who to be: the answer to who you are is manifold. Where do

you come from? What are the people you love? What have you been through or who have

you known? The important thing is to believe that being yourself is wonderful, that although

there are billions of other beings in this world, who in some aspects may be better than you,

the only thing you have to believe in from the bottom of your heart is this''Tete waited for

Roloway to rise her face and look at her. The tortoise wanted to make one thing clear and

firmly stated "I don't want to be anyone but myself. So Roloway, hold on and if you don't find

people here who understand you it doesn't mean you won't find them elsewhere. The world

is vast and varied but we have to face the challenges that life gives us. And one of the most

difficult is being yourself at any cost" Roloway had to make a choice: she could walk away

and not face what she was or stay and be herself. But I can't tell you what the ending of her

story is. After all, it hasn't been written yet. I don't know if Roloway ultimately decided to take

an easier path or to stay in the village to struggle to be recognized by others. For now, think

about what you would have done in a similar situation, in the meantime I'll make a choice.

Sincerely, Roloway the monkey

 

ENGELSFLÜGEL

Gabriela ist ein perfektes Mädchen. Die ideale Tochter, die beste Freundin, die Schülerin, die alle

Lehrer gerne haben würden. Immer hilfsbereit, lächelnd, großzügig - sie erfüllt alle Kriterien, die

einen Menschen als perfekt auszeichnen.

Doch Gabriela ist unruhig, sie fühlt sich nicht ganz glücklich, kann sich aber nicht erklären, warum.

Es ist ein wunderschöner sonniger Tag, der Frühling steht vor der Tür und Gabriela möchte

unbedingt am See spazieren gehen, ein ruhiges Plätzchen finden und sich in die Stille und das Buch

vertiefen, das sie gerade liest und das sie auf „Drei Schritte zu dir” festhält.

Sie verlässt das Haus und findet nach einem kurzen Spaziergang den perfekten Ort, direkt am See

unter einer wunderschönen Trauerweide, die sie zu beschützen und vor der Welt zu verstecken

scheint. Gabriela atmet tief ein und genießt das angenehme Gefühl der natürlichen Verwöhnung.

Sie ist in ihre Lektüre vertieft, als sie Geräusche aus dem Wasser hört. Zuerst denkt sie, es könnten

kleine Fische sein, aber sie sind zu aufdringlich. Also kommt sie aus ihrer Unterkunft, um

nachzusehen, und was sie sieht, macht sie sprachlos.

Vor ihr stand das schönste Geschöpf, das sie je gesehen hatte. Ganz in Weiß gekleidet, mit leerem

Blick, einem großen, perfekten Gesicht, spitzen Händen ... kurzum, der schönste Junge, den sie je

getroffen hatte.

Er ist in seine Gedanken vertieft und wirft kleine weiße Kieselsteine in den See. Er hat sie nicht

bemerkt und sie will ihn nicht erschrecken. Also schleicht sie sich auf Zehenspitzen zurück in ihr

Nest und macht kleine Geräusche, damit er sie bemerkt. Dann kommt sie wieder heraus und geht

mit dem Buch in der Hand auf das himmlische Wesen zu.

Der Junge dreht sich um, sieht sie an und zeigt ein entwaffnend süßes Lächeln. Er hat stechend

grüne Augen, die durch sein dunkles Haar hervorgehoben werden.

Er stellt sich vor. Sein Name ist Gabriel. Unglaublich. Derselbe Name.

Gabriela stellt sich der Reihe nach vor. Sie lächeln über das Zusammentreffen ihrer Namen und sie

erzählt ihm von ihrem Spaziergang und der Wahl dieses Ortes, um eine Weile allein zu sein.

So beginnt eine zarte Freundschaft, die nur aus Treffen an der Trauerweide besteht, bei denen sie

sich Geschichten erzählen, lesen oder einfach nur nebeneinander liegen, ohne etwas zu sagen.

Gabriela ist beeindruckt von der Leichtigkeit, mit der sie Gedanken und Gefühle mit diesem Jungen

teilen kann, über den sie nur sehr wenig weiß.

Jetzt ist es Sommer, die Schule ist vorbei und Gabriela kann endlich mit ihren Freunden Spaß

haben, freiwillige Arbeit leisten, ins Schwimmbad gehen und ihren Freund Gabriel an der

Trauerweide treffen. An diesem Nachmittag geschieht jedoch etwas anderes. Gabriel stellt ihr eine

Frage, die sie sehr überrascht: "Gabriela, wer bist du wirklich?" "Was für eine komische Frage! Wer

will er, dass ich sein soll? Ich habe ihm viele, viele Male von mir erzählt", denkt Gabriela. Und als

ob Gabriel ihre Gedanken lesen könnte, fährt er fort: "Ich meine: Du hast mir so viele Dinge über

 

dich erzählt, aber es sind immer Dinge, die du für andere tust oder wie andere dich sehen und was

sie von dir wollen, aber wer bist du wirklich? Wer ist Gabriela wirklich?'

Gabriela zögert einen Moment, dann werden ihre Augen feucht. Sie braucht dem sensiblen Jungen

keine Antwort zu geben. Ihre Augen sagen schon alles. Sie weiß nicht, wie sie diese Frage

beantworten soll, und vielleicht ist das der Grund, warum sie oft so traurig ist und nicht so

glücklich, wie sie sein sollte.

Wer ist Gabriela?

In dieser Nacht kann Gabriela nicht schlafen. Ihr Kopf wiederholt die Frage in einer Schleife: "Wer

bist du, Gabriela?" Und tausend Zweifel, Ängste, Wünsche und Träume fallen in sie ein.

Ein paar Tage lang trifft sie Gabriel nicht. Sie fühlt sich nicht bereit, ihm in die Augen zu sehen. Sie

hat immer eine seltsame Energie in diesem Jungen gespürt, als ob er sie schon ihr ganzes Leben

lang kennen würde und viele Dinge über sie wüsste, von denen sie nicht einmal wusste.

Als sie ihn wiederfand, stellte sie ihm die Frage: "Gabriel, wer bist du wirklich? Er antwortet sofort

mit unendlicher Sanftheit: "Dein Schutzengel". Die Antwort bringt sie zum Lachen und versetzt sie

in gute Laune, obwohl er ihr nicht geantwortet hat.

In den folgenden Begegnungen wird Gabriel ihr gegenüber immer fürsorglicher und hilft ihr zu

verstehen, wie wichtig es ist, man selbst zu sein, sein eigenes Ich zu schaffen, indem man es liebt

und versteht. Es ist gut, anderen Gutes zu tun, aber zuallererst müssen wir in der Lage sein, uns

selbst Gutes zu tun; andere zu kennen ist wunderbar, aber wie können wir das tun, wenn wir uns

selbst nicht kennen?

Während dieser langen Gespräche spürte Gabriela jeden Tag mehr, dass sich etwas in ihr

veränderte, sie hatte das Gefühl, dass sich der goldene Käfig, in dem sie gelebt hatte und der ihr von

anderen im Laufe der Zeit gebaut worden war, allmählich veränderte und verblasste. Jeden Tag

lernte sie etwas von diesem Jungen mit dem Herz aus Gold und baute vor allem die neue Gabriela

auf, die mit den anderen, aber auch mit ihren Bedürfnissen, ihren Ängsten, ihren Träumen und

vielem mehr liebevoll gestaltet war.

Sie mochte die neue Gabriela. Sie mochte dieses Mädchen, das gerade dabei war, ihre

Schmetterlingsflügel zu bauen. Sie fühlte sich frei und unendlich glücklich.

Die Zeit verging und der 31. Dezember kam. Gabriel und Gabriela stehen zusammen auf dem

Hügel über ihrer Stadt. Die Lichter spiegeln sich im See, und es gibt eine ganze Reihe von

Weihnachtsbeleuchtungen. Es ist ein wahrhaft magischer Abend.

Gabriel schaut sie aufmerksam an und fragt sie, was ihr Wunsch für das neue Jahr ist.

Gabriela lächelt ihn an, wie sie es noch nie zuvor getan hat, und ihre Antwort kommt ohne den

Schatten eines Zweifels: "Ich möchte das große Abenteuer annehmen, ich selbst zu sein. Und lebe

es".

Kaum hat sie diese Worte gesagt, füllt sich der Himmel mit Hunderten von Feuerwerkskörpern. Ein

traumhaftes Spektakel.

 

Sie spürt etwas Seltsames auf ihrem Rücken und dreht sich um. Was sie sieht, macht sie sprachlos.

Zwei wunderschöne, leuchtende Schmetterlingsflügel haben sich entwickelt. Sie dreht sich zu

Gabriel um, und was sie sieht, macht sie noch fassungsloser. Er ist wunderschön und hat zwei

schillernde Engelsflügel. Er hatte ihr also wirklich geantwortet!

Und schließlich umarmt Gabriela, befreit von ihrer Konditionierung und ihrem Käfig, Gabriel in

einer liebevollen Umarmung, und gemeinsam heben sie in den feuerfarbenen Himmel ab.