Flashback. Clueless Scene.

She was sleeping. Most of the passengers were watching a movie. Her mind too. The scenes were preparing for something special. Unique in time. The man that found her high heel shoe, was reading a book. His nose was itching. His hand touched the spot. Left side. The feeling remained. Not paying attention to it, was the best choice. For now. The book invited him to another world. The air was full of surprises. Anything could happen from here. Giving birth to wonderful chances. Her legs, an expression of feminine beauty. Long legs, fine lines. Her hands resting on her belly. Her belly was attractive. Of course it was. She was stunning. Gorgeous. Woman.

She slept yet was active. Subconsciously. Stairs appeared. She felt heavy. A door. Opening. She was not scared. He was with her. She felt his presence. He took her with him. Wanted to show her something. It was fine. She agreed. In the living room a boy was playing with his toys. The mother was cooking goulash. The scent filled the whole house. A young girl was playing with her dolls. Her voice excited. Long blond hair. Like an angel. The young boy was full of life. Adventurous. Dreaming of castles and being a king. The girl felt like a little queen. With her dolls right beside her. Serving her majesty. Imagining how she would enjoy the royal scenes many years later.

A scene that would not wake up many souls. It all seemed normal. Nothing beyond the usual way of living. The mother called her children. Dinner ready. The girl ran to her mother. She was hungry. The curls of her hair joyfully dancing in the air. The boy kept on playing. A second call. He watched his sister and his mother. Then he joined them. He knew his mother would punish him. If he would make the mistake to not obey her during the second call. The father had died long ago. The boy did not remember him. Too far. Too painful. To give it attention. The goulash was yummie. The vegetables cooked with love. The meat a divine source of energy. To play so much more.

Her mind remained a while in this scene. There was a reason for it. Scanning why. In the corner of the kitchen a photo. It was the father of the family. Bright eyes. Stunning smile. His eyes were moving. What! His eyes were alive. He was observing his family. Making sure that they were doing fine. She knew his secret. His soul entered the picture the day he died. Fitting in. It was their secret. When she had to make a big decision, she looked at the picture. His eyes would reveal the right action. The boy looked so similar to his father. Same personality. Same style. The girl was a sweetheart. A little angel shining light everywhere. Lovely. With starry eyes.

On the table a document. Closed. The boy saw it and wanted to make an airplane. Little boys adore that. The mother was putting the plates away. Seriously. Focused. His creative brain at work. The last wing to build. Super speedy. Art work. He was already smiling. Saw the paper in the air. Flying around. Light. Weight. Dreaming further. His sister watching him unfolding his plan. With admiration. Then the mother saw what the boy was doing. 'Do not touch that document!', she yelled. She grabbed it. Angry. The boy felt bad. He had no intention to do something that would cause his mother to behave like this. She took the document. Read it again. It was hard for her. Maybe the hardest thing to go through.

She went to the sleeping room. Put the document under her mattress. The best location. The children never entered her room. It was hers. Only. She left the room. The document moved. Without her touch. All by itself. A pencil on the floor. Document and pencil united. Words added. Ready. Magic completed. There was something with this document. She was aware of it. During her sleep. She tried to figure out what this meant. The scene in the kitchen lost its power. Turning into a picture of long forgotten times, kept in black and white. Colors faded away. As if they went back to eternal sleep. Eyes closed. The boy turned around in his bed. A painting of Paris on his wall. His adventurous soul connected to the painting. The passengers were in a good mood. One hour left. Before arrival. She opened her eyes. In slow motion. 

By Liesbeth Leysen

Part one: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@liesbeth-leysen/another-day-in-paris

Part three: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@liesbeth-leysen/haunted-by-the-unexplainable 

Part four: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@liesbeth-leysen/running-rivers