21/10/2011 John O'Brien 2

[WP Central]

Little Felipe’s pass from midfield was weighted perfectly.  The old leather football bumped across the ground kicking up dust and arrived, miraculously, right at Juan’s feet.  Juan nudged the ball with his right foot and pushed off with his left, darting sideways.  The manoeuvre took Carlos – who was two years older than Juan and by popular opinion by far the best footballer in the school – completely by surprise.  He thrust out a muscled leg in a vain attempt to catch Juan as he glided past, but Juan was already well out of reach and only had the goalie to beat.  The goalkeeper spotted the danger and rushed forward to close the angle.  He seemed to come at Juan incredibly quickly, almost blotting out any view of the goal behind him.  But Juan kept his nerve, glanced down, brought back his leg and blasted the ball as hard as he could.  He could not have timed it better.  The ball shot from his foot, like an exocet missile, passed right through the goalie’s legs and buried itself in the corner of the old, tattered net suspended behind the goal.  Juan did not even have time to celebrate – his team mates were all around him and soon he was face down in the dust with all of them on top of him in a great pile laughing and shouting.  Even though Juan was at the bottom of the pile, and his face was in the dust, he had a big grin on his face.  It was the first time he had smiled for a long time.

“Juan!”  It was his mother’s voice.  She had left the door of the old Ford Fairlane open and marched across the sun-parched park to where the boys were playing.

“Juan!” She called again.  She was cross.  Juan wanted to stay and bask a little while longer in his glory, but there was no escape.  He gave a little wave to the others, grabbed his school bag and trotted off to meet his mother.

“You are a mess!”  She said.  She licked the end of her fingers and tried to wipe the dust from his face – a habit that particularly annoyed Juan and one which had no noticeable affect but to smear the dust into lines of sweat and dirt.  He tried to lean away from his mother’s hands, but she was much too strong, and repeated the manoeuvre until she had convinced herself that it was indeed making things worse rather than better.

“Come on then.”  She said.  “We’re late – you were supposed to meet me at the school... and I find you here, playing football.  Get in there.”

Juan hung his head as he got into the back of the dusty old Ford.  It was a hot afternoon and even though all the windows were down, the car was baking.  It smelt of hot plastic, sweat and his mother’s perfume.  As soon as he sat down, the back of his legs stuck to the seat.  His mother started the engine and the car rolled away from the park and onto the road that would take them out of San Rafael.

“Why can’t I play football with my friends?”

Juan spotted his mother’s blue eyes in the mirror as they glanced back at him in the rear seat.  They were an odd mixture of anger and sadness.

“We have explained to you many times, Juan, it is OK to have friends , it is OK to play football... but you must not get too close...”

[WP Central]

Juan felt the frustration rise in him, "yes mama you always say that but you never explain why! I just don't understand , why am I not allowed to invite my friends home and why do you never ask people round?" 

The sadness in his mother's eyes intensified and she sighed softly.

"Juan my son, querido, I know this is all hard for you to understand but you must trust papa and I. You live in a nice house and you have plenty to eat.....do we not buy you all the books and games you want too? it is not so bad is it?"

Juan stared out of the window at the sun baked landscape rushing past the car and fought to find the words to explain how lonely he felt at times and how much he yearned to have proper friends that could come over to play. Their house was beautiful to be sure, although looking at the battered car his mama drove you would think they lived in a slum and Juan had always been cautioned by his parents not to talk about his home whilst at school. Just as he was about to voice his puzzled, resentful thoughts his mama spoke........

 

Bev Humphrey

Write Path Founder

[Anne-Lise Robin]

"We shall not discuss this again". Juan remembered hearing this speech over and over along the years. When they arrived in England after leaving sunny Mexico, his life seemed to echo the dark grey clouds engulfing London. Juan tried to remembered how the sun felt on his skin, how he used to play in the arrid field behind the house. Life used to be filled with sunshine and delicious moments spent with his friends and family. He could not recollect why they left so suddenly. Something happened, a sinister something that escaped Juan's memory. Since arriving to their new home, Mama had turned from a senorita to a dull housewife and he could barely remember the last time he saw Papa. Juan could see Mama was avoiding voicing her fears and anguish but he had to know.

[Sorrel Anderson]

'Mama?'

'I'm busy, Juan.'

'But mama, I need to talk to you, I...'

'JUAN. Just leave me alone will you, please? I told you I'm busy and all you can do is pester and pester and...'

Juan ran out of the room and his mother ran after him.

'Juan, I'm sorry, come back.'

But Juan had already left the house and was running, with his football under his arm, up the road to do the only thing that could help him forget.

[Caroline Roche]

As he ran along, Juan thought about the life he had lived.  About the many name changes he had.  He couldn't even remember what his original name was anymore.  The continual change of school and change of passport.  The packing in the night and the flights over the border, another country, another school, another name.  What secrets were his family running away from?  And where was his father?

Juan sat down and started to sob.  He was so fed up with it all.  Nobody ever told him anything, just what his new name was going to be.  Suddenly a shadow fell over him, and Juan looked up to see a stranger standing in front of him.  The stranger was wearing ordinary clothes, and yet Juan felt that there was something different, something menacing about him...

[Adrian Thompson Laisterdyke UK]

"Hello your highness", the stranger said. "It has been a long time since I was priviledged to be in your presence. It is nearly time...". Juan ran, but the stranger was faster. He grasped Juan's wrist, and at the same time pressed a button on what looked like a mobile phone. Juan's world vanished in a swirl of darkness.

Everything was black. Juan wondered what was happening, and why everything was dark. When he concentrated, he realised he couldn't move his arms or legs, and his eyes were bound. His ears, though, weren't, and someone was talking near him - urgently, and trying not to be heard. "We have him...Yes, he seems well, but I don't think he knows anything about his past...no, or his future either...yes..yes...of course, sir." A hand reached across his face, and light flooded in. As his eyes got used to be new brightness, he looked around - and saw something the like of which he'd never even dreamed of... 

[Tamsyn Murray]

The room around him seemed to be made entirely of gold. Light glinted from every surface and forced Juan to raise his hand to shield his eyes. Even the bed on which he lay shone with golden hues, although the sheets were soft to the touch. And what wasn't made of gold sparkled with what he guessed were diamonds. It was enough to blind a person.

"Where am I?" he croaked.

The man beside him bowed low. "Welcome, your highness. I most humbly beg your forgiveness for bringing you here like this but it was the only way."

Juan sat up, blinking. "Who are you? Where is my mother?"

"You will have many questions, some of which I am permitted to answer, others that will have to wait." The man's gaze was both serious and sad. "But know this - no harm will come to you here as long as I, Sergio, am breathing."

Juan could only stare in bewilderment.

"Now come," Sergio said, his tone growing kinder. "There is someone you need to meet."

[Lynne Coppendale]

Juan stayed where he was. No way would he just follow this… this… kidnapper! Smiling or not, this man had just snatched him from the only life he could consciously remember and dumped him in a golden, blinding, room. He may have felt lonely but he had always felt safe, in this place he had not even the benefit of that!

“You’re scared, I understand, you were so young when you were taken from us.  Have you no memory of us at all?” Sergio asked concerned. Juan decided he was very good at his job and, despite himself, he felt himself warming to this man.

“No, none at all” Juan mumbled. Feeling a sad weight and threatening tears that he had not expected.

“It has taken us so long to find you. Constant moving and, of course, the change of appearance of your…. your… carers, meant you constantly slipped through our fingers. Your parents never gave up hope you know? Never, they looked for you each and every day, their rule was overshadowed by your loss. Now, as their time to rule comes to an end it is fortunate fate that has resulted in us finding you at last”

Juan tried to digest this information. Ruler… Kidnap…. Different parents? As a strange woman of indeterminate yet, Juan guessed, middling age ran into the room crying “Alberto” all consciousness left Juan’s body.

Lynne Coppendale.

Danum Academy Librarian

[Carol Williams]

When Juan came to again, he was again in a blindingly bright room, though this time it was silver, with the furniture studded with jewels. He groaned. He’d been through this before.

The woman who had rushed towards him now waited quietly by his side.

“I’m sorry, Alberto”, she said in a soft voice. “I know this is too much for you to take in. We will talk later, and you will understand your past. But now, you need to meet someone else, and this cannot wait.”

She helped Juan to his feet, and led him to a heavy carved wooden door. It swung open slowly, and as they entered the room, Juan noticed first of all a huge table, laid for a banquet. But the food was strange, fruit that he had never seen before, brightly coloured fish, and bread in strange shapes. Who was all this for?

Then his eye caught a large ornate throne, with a man sitting on it. The woman, who he supposed he must now call his mother, gently steered him towards this. He wondered what he should say, until he realised the man was staring into space, with no recognition of anything in his eyes.

“This,” she said sadly, “is you father”.

Carol Williams
Nottingham

[Allison Painich]

He is dying, and soon you will be named king, ruler of this country.  Your home country.  That is why we searched for you day and night.  We never gave up hope.  When we hired your nanny after you were born, we thought she was perfect.  She cared for you and loved you just as I do.  Never in our wildest dreams did we think she would take you, our only son and heir to the throne.

Everything was happening so fast.  I couldn't even comprehend the words, the noise, clammering in my head.  My life had been a lie?  The hiding, haircuts, new passports, new homes, new cities all began to make sense.  No wonder I could never have friends. 

 

Just a crazy as all of this seems, I was whisked away.  Bathed, goomed, and given proper clothes for the ceremony.  Wait??  Aren't I too young?  What should I do?  I am not even sure where I am.  It didn't seem to matter. 

 

I was the chosen one.

 

Allison Painich

Monroe, Louisiana, USA

Carmel Hill Write Path Coordinator