Author: Nanoyo (Clément Rosseel)
Original language: French
Source: Le Dernier Mangeur d'Âmes (chapitre 3) - not yet online
Used with permission. All rights reserved.
Burkina Faso - July 2011
"Bitch!"
The word echoed in Arthur's head. He'd never before heard his father insult anyone. He might have a temper, but he'd never expressed it through insults.
"I'm sorry you boys had to hear that. I just feel so betrayed by that bitch. I mean, how could she do this to me? Well, let's not talk about that any more, I'm happy to see you at least. How's school?"
Let's not talk about it? He'd been the only one talking about the divorce Emma had filed for, legitimately from Arthur's point of view, though he understood his dad's anger.
Several months had passed since the divorce had been filed and he'd learned to disance himself enough to analyse and understand...
Still, he hadn't yet managed to accept and live with all this conflicting emotional tension. The whole thing completely exasperated him, finding human deceit at the heart of his own family, where anything could be used to exploit and profit one at the expense of the other. Luckily for him, he'd distanced himself physically as well.
Since August 2010 - nearly a year after the ritual at the Burning Trenches Cemetery - he had bluntly announced to his mother that he was going to study far from home. With all the knowledge of his fourteen years, he'd demonstrated point by point that he had it all planned out, from the school itself to where he would stay. Everything was organised already, and few arguments seemed valid enough to counter his plan. Besides, his mother had been far too fragile and disturbed to argue at the time. She was in no state to convince him to stay. In fact, this new absence was the sudden change that convinced her to change, too.
In April 2011, she had made the decision and stuck to it, tearing her and Pierre apart. Things had been turbulent ever since, and today rage enflamed their father's words. Fred and Arthur had joined their father for the month of July, in Burkina Faso. It was the hottest month of the year, but also the most beautiful, with plants and animals flourishing in their brightest colours. And yet, as soon as they'd arrived, Pierre had talked about one thing only.
The divorce.
He'd heard the word often on TV, but until then Arthur hadn't had to deal with it. He'd tried to believe that it didn't matter to him, but it was just a vain attempt to repress the feelings it provoked. Mixed feelings that affected his occult habits in odd ways. Anger, anxiety, fear, despair all took up emotional space and directly affected his strange power. It was like it turned on without warning, making it difficult to close his eyes at night. Meditation hadn't helped, and his disrupted sleep worried him even more.
Dreams and nightmares had always haunted him until he'd learned to control them using meditation. A deep enough trance allowed him to keep a certain amount of control on his subconscious mind. Arthur had even tried guiding some of his more interesting dreams to make them better. He especially liked the erotic ones.
It had been fun for a while, but now they were becoming uncontrollable again because of the flood of outside emotions. Each night was more intense, bringing a flood of past or present images. Memories that scared him because they were not his. It would be difficult for a while, but Arthur had to take control again or else go mad. The only solution to that seemed to be to accept what he was going through, or at least, to try.
"Be ready for tomorrow, we'll be tracking for a few hours but I promise it's worth it. We'll be right next to the reserve," said Pierre, hoping to change the subject after realizing that it was must be painful for his sons.
Fred, his eldest, looked tranquil as usual, which reassured him. He had his nose stuck in a History book.
"No change there at least," Pierre thought, watching him. The same could not be said of Arthur, who worried him. Since his arrival, his youngest had been cold and distant, and his eyes showed his inner conflict. Pierre thought that his efforts had calmed that a bit. They just needed a good night's sleep to get over the journey to finally make the most of where they were. They would make for Diapaga, a tiny village next to a big nature reserve. There, at least, far from all these western problems, Pierre and his sons would be free.
Burkina Faso was a fascinating country that smelled of spices and where the accent sang of a calm life. They were far from the highly developed energy of western society where time was an enemy you had to chase. Here it was necessary to take time to realise that there were no problems, only solutions. Still, Uagadugu, like most African capitals, was a little deprived of this particular atmosphere, and surrounded by slums.
The outside of these cities was what Arthur was interested in, another world of ochre colours mixed with the red earth he'd always associated with the Africa he knew. Since his childhood, he'd visited his father in Africa with the rest of his family. This time was different; he'd only come with Fred. His sister had developed some sort of phobia of the continent, and decided to stay with their mother in Europe.
One action film and a few beers later, the evening was up. By the time the two sons went to bed, their father was snoring already. But Arthur felt anxious. Fear of sinking into those dreams wouldn't leave him alone, so he did his usual ritual, placing a few pieces of paper and a pen next to his bed and preparing himself to write down everything he'd seen. He'd been doing it for a few months. Sometimes he found himself writing the incredible stories of passing souls who often just wanted someone to share their experience with so that it wouldn't be lost. Arthur had concluded that the human soul only lingered after death in order to pass on its heritage to the living.