Library

"Why did grandma want me to come to the library of Mortsel?" I wondered. Obeying her simple demand, she whispered, prompted nervously. 

"Yes," the beehive entrance of the rebuild outrages small town edifice was a marvel. Granddad, clearly inspired by a sanitarian neatness, I thought mockingly. 

Yet, overwhelmed by it's simple modern urban softness illuminated interior, openness created by the large ceiling ongoing window sections, expressing  vision and wisdom for those who read. "A basic enough concept," sneeringly gaping around me.

"Oh, there you are," Theresa whispered, "grandma told you'd be here speedily; curiosity hasn't killed the cat, yet!" She chuckled, slowly uprising from the latest library acquisition, putting the book aside, gazing to the back-lounge wall, not even rendering me a glance. 

"Still hobbling, are we?"I thought silently. Even at the age of four I identified her, the most wrinkled fossilized erudite ever. She still is, apparently. I looked over my right shoulder, following her lead.

An immense back-wall panel glided open, exposing the biggest library vault, EVER, I thought, leaving me baffled, in pure awe.

"The pussy goes first," she says.

House 12

Getting the luggage out of the taxi, Cleo stared at the drawbridge. I was proud to show her this masterpiece of modern art, entrance to my families save haven, as it has always been. Look, starting to sing to us in tremble high notes... Grandma knows we're coming!

Hospital

"The mayor called, you should go home," the nurse said, "and the doctor can see you now, down the hall on your left," she continued.

"You've got a broken ankle," looking at the x-ray, not even looking up when I walked in the office, "rather nasty and complex," he added, hesitation, then stuttering, staring at my feet, "or not."

"Your wife, in her third month ... everything seems okay, the baby has no apparent injuries."  I smile nervously, as I was the cause of the car accident, not knowing how she would take my stupidity. Stubbornness actually, not able to stop when provoked.

Ferociousness kills when unleashed, but makes progress when reasoning fails. Thus, timing becomes of the utmost importance, a skill I have not mastered yet, apparently, honey. She got dressed, we checked out. I wonder where the rednecks remained, nurse naively staring at me, not being able to remember anyone else checking in last night.  

Sorbonne Tumbling two

Never expected you back so soon, before supper, take the week of, will you, you won't get a third audience, trust me.


The dean looked more serious, no need to explain. But I want to blame the chick, giggling away, showing her Sorbonne-tumbling-selfie-penis-shot, my penis. I tripped, the class-room-theater-stairs giving away, the depth of the abyss into fainting darkness, smashing face upon the student writing desk. Exam over, exit, ambulance ride, twice today.

Don't even know how I got to this Paris-midnight bar, heavy wood-nostalgia filled bent over, to squeeze in under the lowered dark-oak ceiling, accordion filling confined cel, myself surrendering walking together with a bottle of Johnny. And, oh my god, how could she, you're joking, not again. Abasing me in an overcrowded auditorium, wasn't enough, was it?

Her shiny black coal, reaching to her angel-wing shoulder-blades, hair, all too swiftly making way following her nodding nay-saying fairy, pail taint, exposing, the most intense radiant no inclusions revealing emerald green eyes. Warmest, softest, yet embarrassing heart-braking sensation hunching me out of my chair, hitting the oak beam, knocked out for the third time.

Cleo brought me the next morning to the emergency room. Smirking gazed how my war-spear being stitched, again, holding a cold-pack against my lumped skull. Well, I couldn't use a rubber in this condition, could I.

Never regretted this night, not even when I paid the dean another visit, three weeks later, to tell him, I impregnated the most beautiful student, the love of my life. The dean was in a meeting, it seemed, I was relieved of my academic duties!

Sorbonne tumbles

Starting out most prosperous, a teaching job at the famous Sorbonne, financial law, a subject becoming all to easy for me.

Loosing it all in just three consecutive occasions.

Opening speech of the academic year, never done before, an assistant, me, giving a exposé on the stock-market deregulations. Sure to impress, awaiting the erudite attendees to be seated, sipping away on a coffee, biting, tasting the sacrifice roll-like cardboard cup-side desiccating my throat even more."Yes, I would love another coffee," and, "yes, I would love another coffee." stammering on every syllable pronounced upholding the leaderships-pose, burnishing control.

Well, almost shitting my pants, literally. Clenching my rectum muscle, barely made it to the toilet. Hopefully nobody comes in after me! Maybe, another piss, just in case.

"Sixty seconds," clamored a high-pinched electronic speaker voice sending a shiver all along up my spine, fulminating. Did I just caught my prick with my zipper.

The dean, called me the next day in his chambers, still chuckling. "Never seen before, sunny, never seen before, and I've been around a long time, now. Did the emeritus professor stitch you penis beautifully? Now bursting out in laughter.

Yes, I made it to the stage, uttering one word, "hello", then collapsing in a puddle of blood sipping out of my pants. "What are the changes, the zipper hooked a vain," Francine, oncology professor, said, urging everybody to calm down while tying of the wound, exposing my genitals to the most prominent attendees.

F..CK, home AGAIN!

"No," Cleo yelled, "I'm pregnant." Seconds later a gun went off near my ear.

"Are you okay, honey?" Shivering and crawling, the scattered front screen broken glass scratching my hands, the obtrusive petrol fragrance first stinging my eyes, then cloaking, eclipsing the full moon. I was crying, mad as hell.

I recalled the rednecks at the traffic lights giving me the finger. Then, speeding the ancient Roman road, two-driveway wide, repaved recently, main access to Mortsel, a little village near Antwerp in Belgium, then crashing.

She was okay, but little did we know, the pendulum stirred, for the ninety-ninth time, again. Countdown has begun.

Only one thought emerged: "F..CK, home AGAIN!"

Prologue - Cleopatra

A sudden expected sharp thud of a knock on the door. Time slipping fast, decision urges, impounding all, no regrets because persisting to continue existing.

Ra
accept this offer
serving you
I'm willing
change fortune
and take me
Nea Isis

Cleopatra died. Not Octavius but an asp, ended the story. As for her children, what happened?

Only an inside in Cleo's last surviving pulse gives but a blink. Now, just one child survived, although erased from inscription and legend...

Until we pick up the actual tale, today... uniting the world ones again. For what, a king does best but to reign.