Ja... nu är jag klar med min engelskanovell... och här är den:


He woke up that morning because of the fact that he could really tell that it was morning. He could see a light, which was strange, since all the windows had been blocked a long time ago. You see, he is not really used to seeing the morning light anymore. But this morning, strangely, that was what woke him. He sat up in the room and looked around him to locate where the light had come from, and that was when he noticed that the door was open. He did not need any more time to think about what he was about to do, he just stood up and ran away from there, through the lit up corridor, and the shabby living room, and then out through the front door. He did not see the scarred man anywhere near him, so he just kept on running. He ran and ran through the big but very compact forest, and didn't stop until he had to catch his breath.

He stopped, and looked around him to see if the scarred man was there, but he wasn't, at least not in his sight. Now he felt secure to walk calmly, instead of running. So he walked, and looked at all the things around him, the trees, the flowers and the rocks on the ground. When the forest started to thin out a little, he looked up at the sky. His eyes were almost blinded by the strong light from the sun. Since he had lived in total darkness a long time now, he reacted almost like a mole coming out of the ground for the first time. He saw nothing. His eyes had started to get used to the darkness, but were no longer used to being in the light. He had to sit down. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, and tried to see if he could notice any shape or movement, but he couldn't. After a while he started to use his hands, to feel things on the ground, and tried to move forward using nothing but his sense of smell, hearing and touch. He did not do very well, and that was why it was good that his eyes were starting to see again. Slow and sure he started to see shapes, and soon he had gotten his sight back, almost fully, and now he could start walking again. He stood up, started to walk, and decided that he would not look up at the sun again any time soon...

He kept walking until he reached a meadow, where he stopped for a minute. He had to take a moment to feel the freedom, just take it all in. he used his nose to take a deep breath, feel the smell of liberation; liberation from the years of captivity, being kept by the scarred man in that small, shabby room. He had stopped counting the days a long time ago, about the same time his beard had grown down to the same length as the position of his lower ribs. By that time he had come up to two years, four months, two weeks and a day. And by that time, the scarred man had started to block the windows, one at a time every day, until the room was pitch black. You couldn't even make out any silhouettes, everything was in total darkness. Until the day the scarred man had gotten bored.

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He laid down on the meadow, and put his hands in the grass that was spring fresh to feel how it felt to touch it. He let his fingers go through it time after time, and felt happier than he had ever done since the day he got captured. He laid there for a while, and then he had to continue walking again; he did have a destination to get to.

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His family was probably waiting for him still, he thought, or at least that was what he wanted to think. They had always been such a loving family, and he had been a loving husband and father. He wanted to believe they would never forget him, and that they would wait for him as long as it took, but deep down inside, he knew that that was just a silly dream. But now when he was on his way back home, he hoped that they hadn't forgotten about him, that when he reached the doorstep and opened the door, there they would be, waiting for him, and welcoming him home again. The vision of them standing there at the door was what kept him going.

                                                   *                    *                    *

He saw one lonely flower in the middle of the big meadow, and went over to pick it up. He bended over, till it looked like his spine was going to snap, and moved his bony arm towards the tiny, blue flower. Then with a small twitch he broke the stalk, and picked it up so that he could smell it. For something so tiny, it had a strong smell, he thought for himself, and then put it in his pocket. He got a kind of a rush, got a little dizzy, blinked his eyes and put his arms out for balance. The dizziness didn't last that long, and he could keep moving.

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He had never really seen the scarred man close enough to have recognized his looks; all he had noticed was the scars. They appeared everywhere on his body, they looked like they must have come from something very agonizing, but you couldn't really tell what it was. They had said nothing to each other, well; of course he had begged him for mercy a couple of times, but he had never answered, or ever said anything to him. He had completely no idea about why the scarred man had taken him in the first place. He was never the one to say or do anything bad to anyone else. In fact, he was a good man, wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone. He wanted everyone to feel good, just like he did, and tried to make people feel better by greeting them on the street, or helping them when in need. The thought that anyone would have anything against him never crossed his or anyone else's mind, ever.

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How it happened was strange. He had been walking home from work one day, and had tripped and fell on the pavement, right in the middle of the street. It was late, so nobody was there to see the accident or help him up. The next thing he knew he was laying there in that dark room, but at the time light was still able to seep in from the windows, and he could see that there was a rat running back and forth on the floor. Then he saw the door opening, and the scarred man came in, raised his foot and stomped the rat to death. Then the scarred man left the room again, and locked the door...

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He felt blissful when he reached the street on where his house laid, later that day. It felt like it was almost not true, like he was going to wake up any minute now and feel unhappy, but he didn't. He kept walking down the street, knowing that he had almost reached his destination, and finished his journey back home. While he was walking there, he had almost forgotten about the life he had lived for so long now, he had almost forgotten about the smell of the room, and the scarred man. He felt like he was just walking home from work yet again, like every other day in his normal life, waiting to come home to his family and eat dinner, like he always did. He thought about his wife's beautiful smile, and the laughter of his little girls. He had waited to experience that for such a long time now, he couldn't wait. And now it was time. He reached the front porch to the house, and walked up to the door. He lifted up the doormat to find the key where it always had laid, underneath it, and unlocked the door. Everything went almost like in slow motion, every move of his hand while unlocking the door, and when he reached for the handle and put it down to make the door open. He closed his eyes when he took his first step towards his old life, the one that he had longed for so long, a step into the house that he had wanted to come home to for such a long time. That step made him fall.

The next time he woke up, it was not because of any light. It was because of the distinct pain in his leg. He opened his eyes but could see nothing. It was pitch black. It was then he realized he was back again, back in the room he had woke up in the morning before. It had only been a dream. He sat up and started crying. Then he noticed something falling out of his pocket, he put his hands on the floor and picked it up, the tiny, blue flower. He put it to his nose and smelled it again, this time he smelled it so intensively that the smell went away into his nostrils, and got stuck there. He started getting dizzy again, and fell into a deep sleep.

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The scarred man opened the door and picked up the flower from the floor, and walked out again, through the lit up corridor, and the shabby living room, and out the front door. He kept on walking to the backside of the house, where he threw the flower in a garbage can standing on the ground, and walked into a small room, that seemed like some kind of chemical lab. He took on a pair of gloves and a gas mask, and started mixing chemicals. When he was done he put the chemicals in a syringe, took a planting bulb from a sink inside the room and walked outside again. He walked through the forest and out on the meadow, and started digging a small hole in the ground.

A bird's wings fluttered in the sky, up over the treetops, over viewing the forest, the house, and soon also the meadow, where the scarred man sat on the ground. As it rose higher up in the sky it could see the street, and the small little house that was the only one lit up in that neighbourhood, and when it rose even higher above the ground, it had a view over the tall concrete wall that surrounded the wicked world outside of the outside world. 


skriv gärna vad ni tycker om den... :)