somewhere on my way by Anna N. Schnieden (best ebook reader for pc TXT) 📕

I may well have been killed, better to spare my classmates and the others.

 

“It was my dog, Ms. No Water…You guys said…something meaningful…What is the problem?” Me.

 

They did not say anything, Ms. No Water walked toward me before the meeting was over and said, “Good luck”…Good luck for what? I thought what worse event could have been planned than chasing a dog with a lot of disorders of specific symptoms…evidently!! Next day, they gave us some clothes from 2600 B.C., when mummy making began in Egypt, and some charcoal for our faces…I looked like an ordinary homeless person, but that did not satisfy the seniors, we had to act like we had autism, and why I was warned “Good luck” from Ms. No Water.

 

“You! Skinny one! Don’t go yet. Here, wear this.” Senior 3, Mr. A+.

 

 

It was a small signboard with the words that had only one meaning “Kiss me if you dare!” Told you, it was the right place for me! They sent us to a market behind the university and while I was sitting there, I heard someone say,

 

“Don’t worry. No one dares! Besides, you don’t have…mmmm…you know…boobs and all.”

 

 

Aha…What the…when I looked at the owner of the voice, he was a freshman just like me. I could not see his face, nor could he see mine. He started…mostly barking, complaining about how silly the tradition was, how Ms. No Water did… so mean, and blah blah. After about half an hour, my ears were black and I needed to say something to shut him up.

 

“What major are you?” Me.

 

 

“Product Design. Why?” The freshman, who later was known as Mr. Moody Be Good, and he became the best friend of Moonlight and me.

 

“You’d go home to mammy, daddy, and cry.” Me.

 

 

“Can’t. Daddy is in heaven with sexy angels. Mammy is busy with work and her psychopathic husband.” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

“Then suck it up, and shut the fuck up…Please.” Me.

 

 

That did actually work very well because he was gone. Sometimes, the seniors painted my face, my hair, and gave me…fake boobs along with a big yellow ribbon on my head, and sometimes…most of the time, I got all-in-one made over. I was quite popular for my seniors since my first education of art was “How to paint a dog,” and all the home welcoming week, I was very glad that I painted the dog!

 

The fingers and the colours on both sides of the dog were slightly off, and every time when the good dog was around, I smiled.

 

By the time I was a student of art, I had already transformed from a regular young girl to Bob Marley’s sister, and never minded what people’s eyes saw, I liked being Bob’s sister and it was easy. I did not need to brush my hair or clean my hands after painting class…for energy-saving. “We must think ahead,” those were Professor Daddy’s words. I actually cleaned my clothes, it just had…too many colours, therefore, it looked…contaminated. My seniors thought I was a maturing problem with unnatural sophisticated development!

 

 

 

The last day of home welcoming all week, I was told that I must not miss, otherwise I would be called “Idiot.” It was The Name Day, the day we were given a new name and the name must be named, based on our anomalous characteristic phenomenon. When I was named, my original one was disappeared for five years, and everyone, including the janitors, called me,

 

“Why Balloon?” Me.

 

 

“You don’t have…boobs. You don’t have…ass, that’s it.” Mr. A+, who was AKA Mr. Charmer Watch Out!

 

After the name’s time, I went to see Professor Daddy; he was not only my major attendant but also my major professor. When I reached his office, he was reading something, so I made some noises by breaking something atypically freakish, an unpredictable clay-work, he called Art, and it was on the bloody floor at the corner of his office…door!!

 

“Ooh…Shit. Sorry, sir. I didn’t see it. I hope it isn’t expensive.” Me.

 

 

“No, and watch your language! Ah! Finally, someone broke it. What do you think, why did I put it there?” Professor Daddy.

 

“Sir…I thought it was your…clay-work?” Me.

 

 

“It was. Now it wasn’t. And I don’t need to answer the question every time when someone saw it!” Professor Daddy, with no emotional heartbreak.

 

“Question…sir?” Me.

 

 

“What the hell is it? That was the question…Ha, not anymore.” Professor Daddy.

 

“You need to see me, sir?” Me.

 

 

 

“No. You need to see me! I told you to come and see me when you’re done…crazy.” Professor Daddy.

 

“Sorry sir, it was no way to get here without being caught.” Me.

 

 

“Aha, I see, the home welcoming. By the way, I saw the bloody dog of yours! I have a work- position in my office if you’re interested.” Professor Daddy.

 

“I’d come and clean your office after class. You don’t need to hire me, sir, it’d be an honour!” Me.

 

“What…you…! It isn’t this office, doll’s head. I meant an architecture company…but, no way you can get in the office building….looking like….What are you now?” Professor Daddy.

 

“Lucas Cranach 1472, sir, his work was decorative.” Me.

 

 

“Yes…yes, you like him huh…weird! Clean yourself a bit. Here is the office’s address.” Professor Daddy.

 

“Sir, I only know a little of draft…what else can I do?” Me.

 

 

“Let’s find out, shall we! You’re a fast learner. You’d survive Mr. Hardly. Unless you want to stick with your dish-job.” Professor Daddy.

 

“Mr. Hardly?” Me.

 

 

“Well. He is a skillful draftsman with a very…demonstrating neat teaching.” Professor Daddy.

 

“Thank you so much for an opportunity, sir, I won’t let you down!” Me.

 

 

“Yes, I get that. Well, good luck with Mr. Hardly. You’ll learn a lot from him. Oh, don’t stare at him too long….hmmm…better not at all. Do you get that? Professor Daddy.

 

“O…K!” Me.

 

 

Working at an architecture company made more money than cleaning dishes. We were exactly, as Moonlight had said, “We have each other, that’s all we need.” Sometimes, many times, we did not have enough food, but we were passing physical and mental characteristics and tried to maintain our sanity as much as we could. Since I worked for Professor Daddy and his partners, things got better, not much, but better.

 

First I was copying papers, sending letters and learning draft-plan. Mr. Hardly was a neat teacher just like Professor Daddy said; he liked to yell (reminded me of the powerful sound lady…the mother) He liked to let me know how stupid I was with his super physical surround sound systems! He did not want everyone in the office to miss a thing; I thought Mr. Hardly probably liked Aerosmith! He also liked swear…words and gave me a new name daily; the most used words were doll’s head, roof hole, and a stupid cow when I was an actual stupid learner.

 

I did not enjoy being exposed, as I was not deaf and did not want to be a superstar, however, Professor Daddy said,

 

“It’s good for you.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“How is that super dodo sound is good for me? I’m probably going to be deaf before my graduation.” Me.

 

“Well. Think this way. You learn new words for swearing every day. He’s quite…imagining guy. Don’t you think?” Professor Daddy.

 

“That’s just what I need, sir!” Me.

 

 

“Ok. He’s what he is. This is nothing to do with you. You learn as much as you can from him with your brain, not your ass. Balloon, there are a hundred million people who haven’t

 

 

had a job. You should be happy. Besides, you’re learning things, which school isn’t providing. He’s right. You’re doll’s head.” Professor Daddy.

 

He was absolutely right about Mr. Hardly; I had learnt a lot of techniques and how to think before I designed something. He told me, “A good designer needs an analytical brain, think ahead of how it’d work and how it’d be cleaned. Stupid cow like you probably think only how to make it pretty!” And that was how he taught me, Mr. Hardly also had…intoxicating lover, Mr. Jack Daniel’s, and every time when Mr. Hardly was with his lover, he liked to howl…like Dances with Wolves, oh, with 4 feet downed. (About “don’t stare at him”…you don’t want to know. Something to do with his…nose?)

 

After my first year as art student, life was…getting weird and weirder. There were 35 students in my class and only 5 girls; everyone seemed to get along just fine including me. While I was in a drawing class, enjoying my imaginations, one of my classmates knocked my back with his drawing pencil.

 

“Knock knock! Hey Balloon. We’re going to Drunken Flower tonight. You wanna come?” Mr. Cross.

 

“Oh. I don’t drink.” Me.

 

 

“You don’t need to. It’s just a social time with classmates and some seniors, you know. You always disappear after school. They think you don’t like them.” Mr. Cross.

 

“Ok…Sorry. I didn’t think about it. Sure, Drunken Flower it is.” Me.

 

 

That was Mr. Cross who I liked talking to. He mysteriously had an unconventional uncommon imagination! He was an expert in rituals and he collected peculiar artifacts. He also had a pure, naked, beautiful heart like I had never seen, and everywhere Mr. Cross went, he always carried his suitcase (an 18th-century European-style suitcase). I was so…curious about what was inside the suitcase. However, the Drunken Flower…night’s conversation was…responsibilities. The Drunken Flower bar was not a classy bar; it was cheap and built of bamboo. So many geckos and numerous bugs of different species, you would not feel alone, if you were alone…in there.

 

 

 

“So many geckos. And so many…buggy?” Me.

 

 

“They’re nice, Balloon! You see, geckos eat bugs and bugs clean up almost everything on the Earth. We’d appreciate them. Don’t you know? More than a million described species, insects account for more than two-thirds of all known organisms!” Mr. Cross.

 

“Wow. That’s…stunning!” Me.

 

 

“Hey. It isn’t a joke. We’d protect them and keep them safe! I don’t kill mosquitos. Even though they bite me.” Mr. Cross.

 

“Well…not all mosquitos are actually bloodsucking. But with some types of mosquitos, the females are bloodsuckers. Therefore, they are dangerous vectors of diseases.” Me.

 

“Come on, Balloon. Really. How can you kill something that lives long only a few days? It’s sad to wait for quite a long development just to live for a few days, don’t you think?” Mr. Cross.

 

“I’ll be sad about mosquito’s development, if you’re dead in the process of WE ARE

THE WORLD!” Me.

 

 

“Don’t worry. I’m not actually human. Do you want to see something important? Something I was born to be. It’s my destiny!” Mr. Cross.

 

Wow, I was impressed by the word “destiny.” That was the first time I was thinking about destiny, but before I was going to lose myself into my brain, Mr. Cross moved his right hand to his suitcase and that was something I had been waiting for quite sometimes. Inside the suitcase, there were…handmade wood crosses in different shapes, a giant black nail, a something he called a bowl-skull, which was made from a 29-year-old human male, and a holy water bottle.

 

“Mr. Cross. What are these…for…exactly?” Me.

 

 

“Ok. These are crosses in different descriptions. It represents the generic meaning of ‘To Intersect.’ Due to the simplicity of the design in two intersecting lines, cross-shaped incisions make their appearance from deep prehistory; as petroglyphs in

European cult caves, dating back to the beginning of the Upper Paleolithic, and throughout prehistory to the Iron Age. Also of prehistoric age are numerous variants of the simple cross mark, including the crux gammata with curving or angular lines, and the Egyptian crux ansata with a loop. That why they are different! This is a black nail and it represents evil spirits. And this one is a bowl-skull from a 29-year-old man. Pour the holy water in the bowl-skull. Then place it in the middle of a room. It summons evil spirits. And when I see them, I use these crosses to stab them. Can you keep it secret, Balloon?” Mr.

Cross.

 

 

“Ah, huh. I won’t tell a soul. I swear on…??...oh, all those miraculous artifacts.” Me.

 

 

“I’m the one of Fallen Angels. And my destiny is to serve Lucifer. Those spirits are upsetting the balance of the earth. My job is