pegwin
Member
- Joined
- Oct 14, 2023
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- 50
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- #1
it's me.
assens, denmark. min hjem.
23rd december, 1997; the day i started existing, right here. it's sort of weird that unlike most people, i don't actually remember much about my birthplace or early childhood. even though i partially grew up in denmark, i actually barely ended up speaking danish; not sure how and why but i think it's just that i never started kindergarten in denmark or that my mother wasn't that good at danish herself, if my memory serves right.
i guess it was a comfortable life, until my father was involved in a 'horrible' crime apparently. i never knew the details on what my father did, it's just that i never saw him again after he was incarcerated for his crimes. the problem here is that my mother used to work part-time(?), where she barely contributed to our family's income. unlike my father, he was our main income. with him gone, we couldn't even afford living in assens anymore.
one day, my mother decided for some reason on that day in particular, that we needed to move out now, no further questions asked. so as the oblivious four year old me i was, i simply didn't question it. and in roughly two hours, we packed up and left, to somewhere else.
groningen, netherlands.
july 12th, 2002, i came here. we had stepped out of the old run-down 'taxi van' that had transported to our new home, in a completely foreign country.
mother said, "here it is."; an old brick building, extremely old infact, few bricks were missing and nature was just starting to reclaim it's land back. the door was moist, as if the aftermath of the drive's rain still lingered within the area. mother scrambled around within her purse, hastily inserting the steel key into the lockset with an uneasy expression on her face. a curious smile planted onto my face as the wooden door creaked open, taking in the warm air of the inside as mother too, smiled and faced towards me. she said "it will be okay.", it will be okay, i thought too alongside mother. the taxi driver was carrying our luggage towards our front doorstep, and then he drove off.
what only remained were us two, a danish family in shambles. the warm dutch wind welcomes our presence as we both went in, then the door shut.
calm before the storm
the morning of the XXth april 2004, i slept away in the comforts of my bear themed blanket, the soft cushiness of the old mattress that i have slept for the majority of my time here surrounding me like a big hug, mumbling something to myself in dutch as i slept away.
the moment of peace has only just departed, i was awoken by distant screams of terror in the distance, explosions ringing out in the far distance. i curiously arose from the bed, still donning my pajamas as i crept closer to the window, glancing outside. smoke and ash ascends to the clouds above as two unidentified spacecraft shoot down a beam(?) onto below, before i could process what is happening, mother ran into my room, eyes wide open from what she has saw or heard about the outside, gasping for air as if she had ran a marathon.
"we need to go." crazed desperation in her voice as she latched onto my wrist, pulling me away and onto the basement. tucking me away under a wooden table as she attempted to re-assure me. "it will be okay, stay here." she momentarily left me alone as she ran upstairs, slamming a door shut as her attempts to lock the door were heard from above.
shouts, screams, grunts, human architecture crumbling into rubble could be heard under my last line of defense; the basement and table. the noises never stopped, they were loud and sounded close.
the worst seven hours of my life.
the old world abolished; the new one takes its place
we were the unfortunate ones to survive the aftermath, we hunkered up in our basement as dust settled outside. is it over? yet, despite the uncertainty resonating within my soul, i had a gut feeling that everything will be okay.
two weeks have passed, plastic bottles roll around the concrete floor of our basement, steel cans devoid of any sustenance are stacked ontop of eachother, a symbolism of our suffering below the ground. the sound of something heavy thumping emanates from outside, inhuman clicking blends in alongside the various thuds in the city ruins above. before suddenly, a loud slam echoes throughout our ""home"", one thing's clear: someone's here.
mother shoved me into the nearest isolated corner, shuffling between the claustrophobic walls as the thumping became the loudest it has ever been; causing the fragile wooden furniture to tremble as if it were made out of glass. it then suddenly halted, silence filled the air, an uneasy tension growing within the basement until a bright green light flashed onto my darkness-ridden eyes, we were found.
mother yelped, i shouted, they kept their silence. mother was hit in the scalp-area with the stock of some unknown extra-terrestial weaponry, their cries for help have been zipped shut, as they plopped down onto the floor, motionless. it switched its attention onto me; the sobbing youngling hunkered into a tight corner, it did not hesitate to do the same thing to my mother, the sobbing grew louder as it prepared.
and then it stopped.
and then it began anew.
i awoke within a cramped musty concrete cell, an unignorable headache lingers as i regained my consciousness and began observing my surrounding, one thing's clear; mother is gone.
the echoes of screams and shouts pass by every second or so, their cries for help going unanswered before their pleads eventually went dead silent. i didn't know what to do in this situation, i merely kept my mouth shut and waited.
and waited.
and waited.
and waited.
and waited.
Then, the whole world changed.
Then, they arrived.
They mended my soul, rebuilt me anew, shined the light on who I was.
My will to live was refueled, driven by those who I once oppressed, murdered, silenced and annihilated, from all walks of life. They knew my past struggles and assisted me.
And in return, I assisted them.
I endured through harsh conditions; an abandoned underground base in the Alps, a run-down moist swamp, an isolated outpost within a frozen forest, at the edge of Geneva surrounded by concrete blocks, the war-torn streets of Geneva.
Throughout all, I stood by their side, eagerly giving aid.
April 26th, 2071.
The soft April breeze washes throughout a lushy forest; leaves swinging loosely as the continous wave of warm wind flies through. A gravel path in the midst of being overtaken by Mother Nature stands on the fertile soil, the path itself manuevers through the thick maple trees, formed like a current in a river.
The long egregious journey ends within a matter of a few minutes, a short jog more to say. Infront of you stands a plot of land, its territory marked by a set of old decaying granite fences, a large frame stands out amidst the identical rods of stone, almost inviting you in a cozy garden entrance. Yet, the objects that find themselves encased by these borders contrast the facade that its fences hold.
Multiple sets of differently shaped gravestones are organized on this plot of land, moss attempting to take ahold of mankind's tribute to the dead; the graveyard has been untended to in days, weeks if not even years. Perhaps a whole decade or so. Hundreds of stone slabs tell multiple stories of individuals who prospered or suffered on this planet.
An ordinary slab of granite secured onto the soil stands strong against time itself, bearing only a few signs of decay. The gravestone reads as follows:
IN LOVING MEMORY OF:
Dr. med. Psy.D Daan Berg
23rd December 1997 - April 26th 2068
BELOVED PSYCHOLOGIST AND CARETAKER; ALTHOUGH MISGUIDED, HAS DONE GOOD.
A thin black plastic card is placed on the soil where this man is buried. The black coat of paint has begun wearing off decades ago, as the grey plastic itself began to reveal itself. This appears to be an old identification card, bearing the symbol of a bygone empire. Another symbol is plastered right beside it, it is difficult to make it out, but it seems to be an an acronym: CP.
The name on the card reads:
C24:i4.UNION-734
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