This is an outrage. This is insanity. I told the director weeks ago that there was somebody else; again and again I told im that somebody was fumbling with my bones – but he wouldn’t listen.
I knew he was special the moment he arrived. Eurasian male, definitely an adult, that’s all we knew for sure when the delivery came.
A blue plastic box with foam padding, and when I took the first layer off and saw his skull I was barely able to hold my excitement back. That’s something you read a paper about, not something you ever see yourself, not something that you get to have in your own museum!
The others, of course, didn’t realize the treasure. They knew he was unusual, but it’s not their specialism and so they don’t remember a thing they were taught at university – if they were ever taught a thing – and so they don’t understand. Completely white. Bright white, like your grandmother’s best Sunday china. Every single one of those bones looked like a piece of porcelain, just not as smooth and shiny. But even the skull and even the teeth, fully white without a single spot of gray! Continue reading →
When the light disappeared from behind the curtains it didn’t matter whether our parents were next door or not, it was only Ranyo that made me feel safe. He hugged me goodnight and afterwards he lay on the top bunk with his head dangling down the side of the bed. Every night he watched over me until I fell asleep and only then my brother went to sleep himself.
I don’t have many memories from my early childhood – I mean the ages 3 to 6 – but most of them are memories of Ranyo. He showed me how to make paper airplanes, he taught me to count from one to ten, and he was the one that told me about the treasure chests filled with toys in our garage.
I could not have imagined a better brother than Ranyo. He shared everything with me, even the secrets that I was not supposed to know. Once he showed me how to open the gummi bear drawer and afterwards we sat on the top bunk and ate little cola bottles and sweet green and red cherries until I felt sick.
Ranyo went to a different school than I did. He had to leave earlier than me and so I rarely saw him in the morning. But in turn he also finished earlier and nearly every day he stood on our front porch when mom and I arrived home. Only when it rained he hid inside the house, usually on his bunk with a teddy bear or two in his arms. Continue reading →