Lost in Alpha's eyes

1 - Death is closer than you think

It was a beautiful sunny day. No clouds were running through the sky. My white linen dress was flopping in the pleasant breeze that nearly carried my wide straw hat away with it. Standing on the balcony, I could see far and wide all over the grounds of our summer residence with French-styled garden and precisely mowed lawns. The whole garden was empty in the scorching heat of the sun. At the very far end of the trimmed bushes, perfectly planted flowers and endless yellow pebbly paths, there was a deep dark forest. The sound of trees and their leaves in the breeze was calming to the heart and soul. The whole place was oozing with the lazy summer feeling of the 11 am warm morning.

    I leaned on the recently mended railing of the balcony and smelled the fragrance of hot summer air blended with the forest smell of humid earthy moss. My wavy brown hair was falling through my naked shoulders and touching the bare skin of my arms, tickling them when the breeze lifted the ends off of my elbows. Great day for a picnic at the far end of the garden.

    "Ariadne!" Hearing my name disturbed me from my thoughts about seeing the landscape in front of me, wondering about how it would feel just staying here in this moment for my whole life. I yanked around and saw my younger brother running towards me in his blue and white striped T-shirt with dark blue shorts. His navy hat wasn't properly seated on his head and was jumping from time to time. A wide smile formed on my lips as I opened my arms wide to catch my dashing little brother. His blond as if nearly white hair was ruffled from his running.

    As he landed in my arms with a thud, a wind gust came and took away the hat until then tightly sitting on top of my head.

    "Icarus! You're not supposed to run that fast! You know that the floor still needs to be redone. It has many holes and bumps." I let go of him and fitted the tiny hat on his small blond head tightly, so it wouldn’t fall off. He clamped the hat down with his small child's hands and started lecturing me: "They are going to bring the picnic basket soon! I can't miss the food!" He pouted.

    I laughed from the bottom of my heart. There was no way this kid would ever want to miss anything that had to do with food. Whenever he was around, no one could be serious. This eight-year-old boy always brought a light mood with him to the room. His blue eyes looked deep and wise but his face screamed Mischief! The blond hair added to his childlike features and made him look like a small angel in the Sistine Chapel standing in person in front of me.

    I picked up my hat from the stairs leading down to the garden and hopefully brushed off all the dust and dirt that could have gotten on it.

    "Mother and father are coming?" I asked Icarus while putting the hat on my head again. But Icarus was already on tips of his toes trying to see if they were bringing the picnic basket even a few seconds sooner. They should come through the two-winged huge old door that needed to be repainted white again, the same way he came from a while ago.

    "No, they are busy with business." He wasn't interested in it at all. His sole interest was food.

    "So it's going to be just the two of us?" I carefully and silently moved behind him.

    "Aunt Margaret is going to accompany us in the garden a few minutes later." His gaze was fixed on the wicker basket covered with checker cloth.

    I slowly put my hands around his sides and suddenly tickled him. Child's laugh echoed throughout the whole garden and residence as he was trying to get out of my torturing tickling grasp.

    "Miss, mind your manners." Agnes reprimanded me the moment she got close enough to not shout. My brother turned towards me with his face red from all the laughing in this heat. Like a blond tomato.

    "That's right, miss. Grandmas should mind their manners and not touch young gentlemen and cause them such discomfort and cause a scene!" His deep wise blue eyes were looking at me. One could get lost in them anytime while trying to find the meaning of life. Sometimes his words just did not match his looks and height.

    "Excuse me! Sir, a grandma? I am 24 years old!" I looked at him with serious eyebrows but my eyes were laughing. He gave me a smile and a little cute giggle. This was one of the reasons he could get away with just anything. Knocked over a centuries-old Chinese vase? Cute giggle. The book pages got eaten by one of our dogs? Cute giggle. There was no way we could be mad at him. His giggling and laughing were even better than music to ears. In fact, it could make a person laugh with him as well even if they were having the worst day of their life.

    "Is our young master hungry?" I winked at him.

    "That's right. I might not look like it but my stomach has been playing all Beethovens for quite a while." He replied with a very wise tone.

    "Then let's get going, young master." Michael, carrying the basket with the cloth, gave an incentive for us to get moving down the arched staircase. We were going to the Eastern side of the garden as big wide trees were planted there hundreds of years ago. They were providing cool shade every summer. A great place to enjoy watermelon as well. Icarus was holding my hand, shuffling his small feet next to mine on the yellow pebbly path we took to get there.

    Agnes and Michael carefully laid the checkered cloth on the ground and set up the place while Icarus was reciting new poems he had learned during his morning lessons, walking with his hands behind his back in front of me. Learning poems and reciting them during events was a tradition for all men in our family that was handed down for generations. The breeze was gently caressing our faces and the cool shade of trees soothed our warm skin.

   "As I walk to the tree, 

the tree back in the faraway end, 

I talk to thee, 

my dear friend."

I've heard this poem quite a few times. But somehow, Icarus had to recite this one every time his lessons began and were ending. So he never changed the tradition either, he started and ended his reciting to me with the same poem. I even knew it by heart by now. I was reciting it together with him in my head...

And if you find me strange,

let's not meet again,

for we would not speak about our loved ones.

I will not change,

not in a million years when,

you have decided to not read my letters anymore staring into a couple of suns.

"Your sun and mine are completely different,

mine lies in the darkest part of my soul,

there, back in the faraway end,

under the tree with a buried scroll..."

"All set up!" Agnes called us and disturbed the peaceful poem about the hidden secrets of the one, who wrote it. Icarus ran towards the blanket all happy and bubbly to have his share of food and I slowly followed. I was looking forward to our lavender lemonade. With just a bit of lemon juice, it was the best thing one could have in hot summer in this residence. The house itself was cool, actually, really cold inside. While outside was usually too warm.

    "What is on the menu today?" I asked while settling down on the blanket and sipping a bit of the lemonade from a glass bottle. Icarus was already happily munching on a few sandwiches Michael prepared for him, sitting not too far away from me. The shade felt great. I looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful day.

    "We have..."

    A flash followed by a loud boom. Suddenly I couldn't hear anything. The air got filled with a burnt scent. Sound of shattering glass could be heard. Centuries-old bricks and stones were landing on the perfectly clean lawn, destroying the neatly lined up bushes and breaking tree branches. The picnic basket got blown away.

Icarus...