In the midst of autumn 1970, the stifling heat weighed heavily upon the earth, the scorching sun reaching its zenith in a cloudless sky. Henry Lemoine crossed the back door of his house, stepping into the small flower garden meticulously tended by his wife, Joséphine. This wife, whom he fondly referred to as the woman with the green thumb, possessed the exceptional gift of coaxing even the most recalcitrant plants to grow.
Since her marriage to Henry, Joséphine dedicated herself entirely to cultivating flowers, convinced that they had the power to brighten life and bring a touch of beauty and comfort to each day. The plants provided her with deep solace and a sense of well-being as she gazed upon them, as if their presence brought harmony and tranquility to her troubled mind.
Henry watched closely as his wife Joséphine removed thorns with a pair of scissors, her nimble hands skillfully maneuvering the tool. Then, with gentleness, she plucked away dead leaves using her fingers, tending to each plant with infinite tenderness.
Clad in white and wearing a straw hat, the peasant woman with sun-kissed skin breathed in the flowers with delight, letting their intoxicating fragrance fill her senses. Her agile fingers caressed the delicate petals with infinite tenderness, as if she were communicating with each plant in an intimate and profound manner. Despite the hard work, her contagious smile illuminated her face, radiating the joy and satisfaction she found in her garden.
A few meters away, Henry observed his daughter Anna running in a small white dress, her brown hair flowing behind her as she frolicked happily through the garden. Barely knee-high, little Anna rushed into her mother's arms, who welcomed her with tenderness, enveloping her daughter in affectionate hugs. Both of them smiled, their faces alight with happiness, and joyfully embraced, expressing their love and bond in this moment of shared tenderness.
Clad in white attire himself, Henry approached to join in this familial tenderness when the smiles of his wife Joséphine and daughter Anna suddenly vanished, their faces abruptly darkening as if an invisible shadow had just crossed their happiness. He stopped in his tracks, watching them with a hint of sadness in his eyes, a sense of unease settling in his heart at the sight of their sudden somber expression.
After a few seconds of hesitation, he decided not to dwell on their downcast demeanor and sought to approach them, eager to dispel the discomfort that had seemingly settled between them. Henry reached out his right arm to touch his daughter's head, but she subtly evaded him, her movement betraying a reluctance that troubled him further.
Powerless, his heart in tatters, the father watched his daughter move away, a mixture of sadness and confusion clouding his gaze. It was then that his wife Joséphine touched his hand, offering a semblance of comfort in this moment of distress and bewilderment.
His gaze briefly shifted from his daughter to his wife, whose saddened expression reflected a deep empathy with their daughter Anna.
- Are you okay? You look worried, murmured Henry, his drawn face betraying the concern haunting him.
- I'm just here to help. If something is troubling you, don't hesitate to talk to me, retorted his wife without averting her gaze, her tone indicating visible frustration.
- I assure you I have no idea why you're both so sad. Is it because of me? Henry asked uncertainty, his eyes desperately seeking answers in his wife's gaze.
- My Henry ! You have betrayed us, my daughter and me, declared Josephine with a voice full of emotion, her words resonating like thunder in the tranquil garden.
He crouched down beside his wife, utterly destabilized, and stammered, unable to find the words to express the extent of his confusion and sorrow :
- But what have I done to cause you such pain? he declared with sincerity, desperately trying to understand. Never could I betray you, the love of my life, let alone my only daughter Anna, he added, his eyes desperately searching his wife's gaze for an answer to this heart-wrenching situation.
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BLOODY CITY
Historical Fiction"Balan" takes us into the story of Henry Lemoine, a widower grieving for his daughter, who finds himself unwittingly drawn into a ritual with frightening ramifications. As he struggles to cope with his pain, he is plunged into a world where magic an...
