The David Duchovny's Italian Blog

X SALEM chap 5

2009-10-19T08:52:00.000-07:00

Harward
Sunday
03:14 p.m.

Increase Mather's studio is simple, owning only four pine wood chairs, a small table with bent legs and a huge section dedicated to books. A bookrest. this represents him completely.
I remember how afraid of him I was during my bachelor of arts.
He was not though and when we needed he was always there to help.
- Foxcroft, my dear, you will excuse me but today's prayer has gone on beyond its usual durance, it is never enough for my brothers just for me to talk to them - he walks inside the room from the door, like an apparition of calm and serenity, he stretches both arms to warmly welcome me, holding my forearms.
- What was it about today?- I ask him curiously, as we sit facing each other.
- Predestination. I have used the word of Luke and Paul, but some of us do not seem to understand Predestination to the fact that Adam and Eve were extremely corrupted and that the Original Sin cannot simply be forgotten with a catholic rite. We are still busy with this in these new lands, when we should start thinking about converting all the american savages. But let's talk about you, what news do you bring from that disgraced place? Cotton has just come back but has not seen you. And you have looked for me, because you have doubts...- he asks, full of concern.
- Yes, and I thank you for seeing me on a sunday. You'll forgive me for my being in a rush, but I ought to go back there as soon as possible - i apologise to the wise man.
- Tell me about the trials... have you examined the documents? the locations? - he wears his big glasses on his nose.
- Yes, that is why i am here. DO you think that the diabolic proof is enough, that is someone's accusation , to execute someone? - my voice thins down, as the old face of my teacher flinches.
HE reads through the documents I have handed him.
- WHat exactly are you implying? Cotton has reported back to me everyday with the news....he has been forced to talk to the people from a hill yesterday because they were impressed with Rev Burroghs' prayer just yesterday. Cotton has argued that the devil hides in the form of an angel. Was it not that clear? My son is convinced about the existence of witches in Salem - he answers truthfully, looking up from the papers.
- I know how much you love your son and how much you value his arguments... Cotton and I have always agreed on most things, besides being good friends. BUt something else is happening in Salem that has nothing to do with spells. Perhaps. For now, everyone in Salem is neglecting their occupations. - i try to instigate the doubt in the man.
But i ought to proceed along the way I had set myself initially, upon which i am conducting my research.
- Son, I hope you can be more exhaustive. Work is the only way to heaven. To neglect it is to miserably fail.- he nods to let me continue with my story having noticed the change in my mood.
- I will be. The evidence in the latest 12 cases of haning has been - i read from my notes - the accusations of the possessed, as I said; and the rare confessions of the accused; you know exactly that in a state of distress, to avoid torture, one may be set to confess to anything ...- i begin.
- That is correct...but perhaps the Lord shows us that through quick repentance one can condemn the body and save the soul...- he convenes.
- Another alleged piece of evidence: the demonstrated lack of religiosity of the guilty. Should the person not remember a part of the King James or not remember a prayer they were sentenced as guilty. Perhaps that was something to do with age..- I continue.
- BUt Foxcroft, this is still a plausible reason. If we do not remember the prayers, the Devil can catch us through the evil eye.-
- I agree, but...but these have been considered as fully incriminating evidence about blasphemous rituals. - i try to push him.
- Of what kind- he asks.
- Some men have diclared to have been tempted to fornication with ghostly figures of women, some of them of dubious reputation, of course, but I do not know if this should be enough..- my doubts are expressed to him in hope I could receive advice.
- Any other evidence?- he continues
- No, the usual: calamities afflicted upon the girls, possibly from a distance. Someone has been accused of causing physical damages or apparitions of strange animals. Or so have argued the possessed.- i add.
- Have you found magical bottles underneath the houses? Dried cats? Ritual marks? Or are we just following rumors? What about the evidence of anal excrescence on the three supposed witches?- he asks shy,
- NOthing of the sort, for now. I am still looking for concrete evidence, and that is why I am going back to Salem. I know you and Cotton have mentioned me to Stoughton for this reason. For the moment I have not found any pressing evidence: no bottles full of iron pins, no human hair, no horse skulls around the houses. No magical circles indented in the wood. All the evil seems to come from the form of jealousy towards the neighbour, rather than from magical rituals. Or perhaps from the girls' wish to be part of a group. This is demonstrated by Warran, who, as soon as the Proctors were arrested and she tried to back down was promptly accused by her friends. WHich is why she decided to accuse again. - I argue.
- Well, investigate, son, investigate. If these should remain the only motives to condemn a man or a woman to death then I will make my move, i wil speak to the other pastors and we will try to draft a document to draw order to the Court itself. It is better than 10 suspected witches escape death than to condemn and kill even one innocent woman. You have two months, I will start my sermons to sensitize the population in october. Drive out the evil, Foxcroft Moulder, and be always ready. We need to stop the loss of sisters and brothers. WE cannot allow Satan to win. May the Lord protect you. Send my regards to your mother and to the dearest William..- he stretches a hand on my head and then leaves me.
' I hope i can. they have even imprisoned a four year old girl and two dogs' i consider silently as I walk through the halls of the university to the exit when I hear a voice calling my name.
- Moulder! WHat now, you do not say goodbye?' Cotton's voice hits my ears from the left.
I stop and turn, seeing him coming from the back of the hall
- COtton... I have just been talking to your father..- i say as I walk towards him
- I knew you were here. I am happy to see you. Why have I not seen you yesterday on the hill, in Salem? You have missed a very good sermon. I have executed the sentence on Burroghs.- he amicably slaps a hand on my shoulder.
- Your father told me. You seem proud.- i ask leaning against the white wall.
- You seem hostile. You know my work, as much as I know yours. You know I feel I can detect evil molestation on the part of the spirits mostly when they are exerted by sinners. ANd Burroghs was a sinner.- he seems aware.
- On what basis has he sinned? Because he went to get strawberries in the fog and has disappeared for a while as his brother in law Cock has argued? - i remark.
- Moulder.. don't speak to me like that. you know like I do, that the Devil has resided in this New World beyond our arrival and I wander what village may be rid of its presence- he is actually convinced he can stop me from being curious and suspicious.
- I agree with you on that- and to this i swallow an image that goes straight thorugh my heart and through the eyes of my soul.
An obscure and obscene sabbath, at night, around a ritual fire...I push back the image and follow Cotton through the main hall.
My friend is taken by his explanation of the thesis.
- The strange occurrences of the invisible world in these lands have been deeply buried by the obscurity. But some of them have been preserved by the memories of honest and godfearing men, full of faith, that cannot be questioned. I trust the deputy governor and the other judges. The sacred words tell us about spirits that try to tempt the righteous ones - he continues but I interrupt him less than kindly, when we reach the bottom of a leafy oak.
- you are quoting from the history of the first Puritans, those who have seen with their own eyes - i add - .. the ghost ship in Connecticut in 1648?-
- Or as the case of Rebecca Grensmith, the witch, who 30 years or so ago...- but I ought to stop him again
- BUt she was not condemned to death!- i almost scream and then gather my composure again as he looks at me in surprise
- But...Moulder. Try to understand. This was an isolated case, the Lord was not trying our faith, like He is now. In Salem...we are facing at least 100 obvious cases!- he claims.
- What this is evidence of is only of Satan's capability to make us doubt of our own brothers and sisters. - I continue to argue
- you are right, this is an interesting theory, but we ought to drive out the evil in Salem: it is too close. WE cannot allow Satan to claim back the world we have taken back from his claws as we colonized these primitive lands. = after this, we stand in silence, for a span of time that allows us to think about our previous verbal exchange.
- Moulder you should marry. Maybe a young widow if you still want to follow family affairs. Unless I can convince you to become a pastor.- he smiles at me.
- Marrying? I ought to think of my parents, they are getting old. And my sister.- i answer guilty.
- You have already tried to have your sister back - he continues, knowing very well the occurrences within my family history - even my father intervened. Do you want to chase after her forever. You need to accept it. The Lord will enlighten you. - he urges me convinced.
- I can always move to the West. There exist a multitude of unknown tribes, perhaps I could find her there, grown up. alive. - i try to convince myself.
- I don't know if you should wish you find her there. Perhaps she has been convinced to live in sin, with those savages- his eyes look down, avoiding mine.
- You can always bring her back to the ways of Christ. - i try to say but a knot in my throat feels heavy.
- I know your determination, but the West. These are unexplored countries, I don't want to lose you. You could face huge dangers, believe me - he insists.
- WHy her, Cotton. Why not me? - I ask sincerely.
- I think we are predestined, that was her destiny. Your path is different. This is not your fault. Years have passed. I know you won't forget, but you ought to accept the Lord's wish. - he concludes.
I know I will never, ever accept that.
- Moulder. Leave these old stories behind and go back to Salem, to work. You made me curious, but I cannot follow your mind, sometimes you seem... blasphemous. Goodbye my friend - he concludes leaving me in the haunted pond of my tormented soul.

to be continued end part 5

Humans, Creatures and Little Gray Men by Elisa

2009-09-07T08:37:00.000-07:00

Title: Humans, Creatures and Little Gray Men
Written By: Elisa
e-mail address: eleryra@googlemail.com
Category: Relationship Fic, Post The truth Fic.
Time span or spoiler warning: Post The Truth, pre I want to Believe
Rating: PG13
Summary: “She understands, he thinks surprised, then he wonders why he ever questioned it in the first place. She is still Scully to him. She is still his one in a billion.”

1. Endurance
As she sits on the cheap yellow folding chair on the side of the room, she looks at her legs as the robe she wears loosens up slightly and her skin is revealed. She sighs. She thinks she’s getting old. She closes the robe tighter against her skin and sinks into the chair. Just a few feet away she looks at the sleeping form on the bed and she secretly thanks her God for having spared her life. She doesn’t want to admit it but she secretly thanks Kersh too. She shakes her head and considers that in the bliss of the moment, she had forgotten that running away could have so many implications, unexpected consequences. The room is briefly lit by the light of a passing car, and then falls into darkness again. How must his mind work. Perhaps similarly. Immerse into oblivion, he experienced briefs moments of clarity, so rare and ephemeral, only to be thrown into deeper darkness and despair. He found his truth only to realize it was the very thing that would pose an end to everything. She cringes. Typical luck. He stirs in his sleep and she shifts on the uncomfortable chair. He looked so much older than when he had left DC. She wonders what he must have endured. He would not say. They had barely spent only a few hours talking to each other, with long intervals of silence, he would not share with her, he did not appear distant, he appeared tired, abandoned, as lonely as he ever did. Planning would be their next step. In the rush of the run, they had abandoned every chance at deep planning, and she had been happy to leave rationality and logic behind in exchange for his sleeping form on the bed, alive and breathing, resting. He is asleep on his stomach, and she finds herself smiling sadly as she places that image of him next to one of her favourite memories of her son, peacefully asleep on his stomach, breathing lightly in the silence of the night. She wonders if things will ever change for them, if the brief resemblance of normality they had so briefly experienced after William’s birth could be somehow regained in the future. Or if they will always be fugitives. Alone with their monsters in the dark, sharing the burden of the imminent prophecy, the weight of the terrible truth.
“ You couldn’t sleep” his voice sounds husky and she is briefly startled, he is now awake, and for a short while she cannot see his face, until he rolls around and sits on the bed, he looks behind his shoulder towards her. His chest is bare, his shoulders seem to sink, he looks more tired than before his sleep. He stands up and walks towards the window.
“ I wanted to look at the map” she says. She lies. She wanted to sit and let it sink in. Him. Them. The truth. The loss. Grieving. The big escape. Him alive back to her. All that’s been lost.
She sighs. He understands. He always does.
He leans on the window frame with one hand and looks outside.
“ Gibson…” he whispers.
“ He is going to be fine.” She says. And she knows if Gibson had been there to read her mind he would have known she wasn’t sure about that. That she was afraid. She was nervous. She had resigned to the truth but had left the consequences untouched. Gibson. Skinner. Doggett. Monica. Kersh. She lets out another sigh.
“ We need to drive up north.” She says. He shrugs his shoulder and doesn’t reply. She knows he has lost everything. His fight to the truth. He cannot change things. She knows he feels powerless. A man without a purpose. For the first time in his life he has no purpose no truth to seek, no profession, no aim, no target no conspiracy to expose. She knows he probably feels like he is living his life on autopilot, outside of his own body he sees himself. He is spent and it must feel like learning to be a child again. Learning new things, getting a new life. She has him. His presence. With a pang of guilt for being so selfish she wonders if she will ever be enough for him. She knows the answer to that, sadly. His nature, his being, his truth has now been revealed to him. And he cannot accept it. He will never accept it. She looks down, her hands in her lap look small now, had she ever noticed that before? He turns to her.
“ You think too much, Scully, have I ever told you that?” he says and walks towards her. She smiles quietly, softly and reservedly, he takes silent notice of her usual gesture, her signature smile. He sits by the bed and leans forward towards her to catch a rebellious strand of red hair between his fingers. He lets go.
“ What must have you seen, Scully.” He says quietly and for a moment she sees him leaving the bubble of personal pain to sneak into her own sorrows. She breaks eye contact and tries to calm herself down mentally, his words can still make her eyes water, she thinks, after so long, so much has been lost and he has never changed. Nothing ever really changed. She is still Scully to him. He tries to look into her, like he could read her mind, like he had perhaps seen Gibson everyday hiding with him. He does not have the boy’s powers but he never needed them. The contact is broken, she is not ready to speak yet, the world is still asleep to her and so is reality, their escape has yet to sink in, as she looks outside the window and the rain starts to pour over the dirty glass.

2. Awakening
His heart pounds so fast he thinks he might faint in the middle of the parking lot, right by the coke vending machine, as he leans against the dirty wall, hiding from the light and from the sight. He could swear someone followed him, and for a fraction of a second he sees it, the needle go through his vein, Scully crying behind the glass in the room with the observers as he catches one last painful breath before closing his eyes permanently… No, he shakes his head. No one has followed him, he keeps saying to himself that no one is really out there to get him, that if he believes that intensely as he has believed his truth for so many years, maybe it will turn out to be true, and no one will get to him, and they will be safe, she will be safe, she will be happy and smile again. The same wide and joyful smile she gave him one afternoon in her apartment before giving birth to their son as she laughed about his jokes on the pizzaman. His head sinks down in front of him and he thinks the adrenaline rush might make him throw up his tomato and cheese sandwich right there, but he fights back. She is just a few yards away, lying asleep in their hotel room, the 3rd this month. The 15th since they escaped almost 10 months earlier. The funds are running miserably low but finding a job with virtually no credentials is not easy. He has not been able to find anything yet. Scully was still looking in Vancouver, but they had both agreed that they could start off somewhere smaller, less visible. So they had started moving around again. Up north, then back down south, across south-west Canada. And today, today he thought this is where it ends. This is where they stop us. And for a moment his hand goes to his gun in a reflex and he thinks, never, ever. We will never give up for them. What a disgrace, he thinks, to think that she would give it all up, that she had already given all up for him, for them. He feels ashamed, secretly but cannot show it to her. Cannot say sorry for all that happened because in this story he is the fallen hero, the voice of the truth that falls victim of its own words, he is defeated and will not admit it, he cannot admit that the truth itself sent him to the gutter. He cannot admit that to her because it would signify to admit he hates the truth now. He does not want to be right. He thinks he is hiding pride behind false humility, he knows he is lying to himself and to her. But he does not want to admit defeat. Not to her. She has not said a word to him about William in months. In 10 months on the run she never mentioned the time they spent away from each other. Never mentioned all the feelings they had exchanged in short but strong emails read quickly in random internet cafès. She fell silent, another victim of his truth. Their son had left un unbearable weight over their shoulder. The proverbial elephant in the room. They never spoke about it. He lifts his head and looks across the road to their room, the light is on. He walks out of the shadow and steps towards the door, turns the knob slowly and for a second stops to enjoy the sound of routine. He hears the shower running in the other room and the tv is left on to keep company, he walks in and closes the door behind him walking slowly towards the bathroom door. He leans on it carefully and touches the white wood with one hand, trying to listen for sounds coming from beyond that. She doesn’t take long baths anymore. Not like she used to. She takes practical and quick showers. She doesn’t cut her hair that frequently either, so it has grown to her shoulder and she looks more tired and older but he would never say that to her, because she still looks stunningly beautiful to him. He closes his eyes and wishes he could say that to her again. Their shared intimate moments are condensed with tension and passion, but no-one speaks and she lets him run his hands on her skin, she lets his hands speak words of love that he cannot bring himself to, and he lets her lips heal the scars of isolation and deprivation, he lets her kisses warm his heart and set it beating again. And they look at each other again, for a long time in the aftermath of their intimate lovemaking, they try to speak but prefer to smile at each other shyly. Their relationship seemed to have gone through all the steps possible in all the impossible ways, they had a child together, mourned the loss and went back to shy passion. He sighs and sits on the armchair on the corner of the room, she opens the door to the bathroom and emerges in a cloud of steam, her bare feet are hugged by the creamy carpet of the room and she walks casually naked into the room, not having noticed him. He smiles to himself.
“ Keep going G-woman.” He says. She is startled, turns to him and blushes.
“Mulder. I thought you were out.” She says and walks to the side of the bed near him and grabs the silky pale pink robe. She sits next to him.
“ You were gone for long. What happened.” He looks down and she takes his hand. He looks at her now. He does not want her to worry unnecessarily. Shrugging his shoulders he brings her hand to his lips pensively and places a small kiss on the palm. “ Mulder? Is everything alright?” she asks, concern visible on her face. He looks at her and smiles quietly. “ We should go back to Vancouver, you could find a job there.” He says quietly. She arches one eyebrow and he loves it when she does that. “ I thought you said Vancouver was too dangerous.” She says. “ It is” he says quickly. “ But you are the only one that can get a job. And Vancouver is far enough from DC.” He finishes with a soft smile. She closes her eyes. “What about you.” “ What about me.” He says. She looks at their hands together. “ What will you do if I find a job”.
“ I will grow wild vegetables in the massive garden of the massive house you will buy for us with your big bucks, Scully.” He says and her smile is wider. He is happy to have been able to do that. To cause her to smile.
“ Mulder you make fake fish die. What makes you think plants will survive you.” She jokes quietly and he allows them to slip into the so familiar pattern of complicity. His left hand slowly caresses her chin and she blushes again. “ I have faith.” He says. Never underestimate the willpower of a man who has lost everything. He thinks. He looks at her. She smiles still. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. He looks at her hair now, it looks darker. She must have dyed it a few shades darker not long before that. How could he miss that? She notices his eyes on her hair and touches one long curl resting on her shoulder.
“ I grew tired of my colour.” She says.
“ You look good in any colour Scully. You should try alien green. Word on the street that’s the new black.” He grins. She looks happier. Maybe, he thinks, maybe if he can lift himself up from his misery, he can drag her with him as well. Maybe if he ran away from the darkness she would be his touchstone again. Maybe if he faced the truth, did not give up and fought for what they had left, maybe if he did allow them to take her soul away from him too, maybe he would have won. Maybe they would have. She sees something in his eyes and her lips close in a serene smile. She understands, he thinks surprised, then he wonders why he ever questioned it in the first place. She is still Scully to him. She is still his one in a billion.

3. Loss
She sits by the back yard of the flat they rent in Vancouver, on the outskirts of the city. It’s cold and the day is drawing to an end quickly, the winter takes its toll on people, and her heart feels pangs of ice stabbing through. She cradles the mug of coffee in her hands and her long dark red hair dangles in front of her, past her shoulders like a warm blanket, she looks at the waterless fountain in the middle of the communal garden, then at the closed windows of the other flats around. She wonders if they will ever have the privacy of their own home. The silence of the freezing December afternoon embraces her, and she thinks about snow in DC, how little of it they ever saw, how briefly they could enjoy it, just for a few hours in the night before it would be cleaned away to make the roads safe for drivers. She closes her eyes. Snow. She remembers the feel of the white hard snow of Antartica against her barely covered limbs as she reached out for him to keep him warm and alive, silently praying, the snow almost blinded her sight with its ruthless candor. She opens her eyes and sighs, it might snow soon. She clings on her woolen sweater and sips from the white mug. In her right hand she holds a small and apparently innocuous piece of scrap paper. The city lights seem so far away and she wonders what would he think of her if he saw her there, holding that piece of information. What would he think. Skinner had informed him of her choice, and it almost feels like so much time has passed, when he left her alone to fight the end of the world. She silently chuckles. How funny must that sound like to strangers. Monster-chasers, that’s what they had been for so long. And now they were fugitives. She looks at the numbers on the paper numbly, she tries to keep it that way, detach herself. Just numbers, she thinks, they are just numbers. She looks at the fountain again and wonders what had his reaction been when Skinner told him. Had he cried? Why hadn’t she asked anyway. She sighs. Looks down and a chill runs through her spine. She feels ashamed now. She stares at the paper and her heart leaps, she shakes her head in sorrow, not now. You don’t need this, she says to herself, neither does he. He is upstairs, she thinks, taking a bath, watching television, reading the paper or sleeping. So much routine in his life these days, he looks tired, bizarrely content to be around her, she is flattered, she secretly wishes she would be enough, and she thinks about three years ago, about their first nights on the run. About not being able to sleep unless he had her back. Unless she knew he was safe. She thinks about all the things she had not told him. She has had him back for three years, yet so little has been discussed about things that could make or break them. Never a word about the time he had disappeared, not much reference to the months he had spent hiding in New Mexico, she still hoped she was the only one he trusted, but his dissatisfaction with the truth might have contaminated the milestone of their relationship. He was afraid to share his fears with her, maybe that cigarette smoking son of a bitch had been right after all. he was afraid to ask. To ask her to let him in, to talk about their son. About her choices, about her time alone. He was afraid to share, to give in, to admit defeat and to abandon himself to sorrow. She did not want him to. And perhaps, to believe that the truth was still out there was the best for everyone in the face of the upcoming storm. 2012. She sighs and thinks about their son, what will he look like in 2012. She looks at the numbers on the paper and a warm hand leans on her shoulder. She turns her head to meet his enquiring gaze, he sits on the concrete next to her. She smiles softly.
“ A rerun of Men in Black is on, Scully. Thought you should know.”.
She stares at the lifeless fountain. “ I have been wondering.. – he starts as he plays with his hands in the cold – “…maybe it is about time I start working on my monograph.”
“Your monograph?” she asks and her hand closes in a fist, hiding the piece of paper.
“ Yeah” he says “ Yeah, you know Humans, Creatures and Little Gray Men, how about that for a title, uh?” he leans closer to her and she enjoys the warmth emanating from his brown sweater.
“ Do you intend to write fiction, Mulder?” he smiles,
“ No one will believe any of what I write about is true, Scully, I might have to specify it in the first few pages…you know…This book is inspired by true events, really, cross my heart. “ he places a hand on her knee.
“I could write about us, you know. About all of our cases.” She raises an eyebrow.
“ I am not sure people are that interested in the mediocre lives of two underpaid FBI field agents, Mulder.”
“ Oh, but I can include some spicy details. You know, to appeal to all audiences. I can think of a couple of times..” he says playfully, she elbows him lightly and he chuckles.
“ I think it’s a good idea.” She says after a long pause. She worried about him. About all the time he spends on his own. About the time he spends without a purpose.
“ I guess that would keep me busy.”
“ I guess so. Enough to keep you away from your recent hobby of extreme cooking.” She says and smiles.
“ Hey, my chicken fajitas à la Mulder is superb. It’s not every day you get a deal like this. Smart, intelligent, good looking jobless man trained for body-to-body combat cooking impressive dishes just for you.”
He put one arm around her shoulders and she keeps looking at her surroundings. He can hear her think. She tries to smile as much as possible.
“ Are you going to tell me what you are hiding in your hand?” he asks softly, squeezing her left shoulder. She looks pensive. She lets her hand unfold and the piece of paper remains there. He doesn’t pick it up. He wants her to explain it. She worried he wouldn’t understand.
“ It’s a phone number.” She says simply. As that was the world’s worst kept truth. The chilly breeze brushes through his brown hair and he tentatively takes the paper in his hand, brushing her palm with his fingers briefly. “ Agent Doggett gave this to me the day you…the day you were sentenced. He said he was not supposed to. But that if I ever needed to know, needed to know …William was okay, I could…use this.” She says. As she stared at the phone number of the family who had adopted their son. He remains quiet and observes the paper. She wonders what he must be thinking. “ Why now.” He asks. She shakes her head. “ I don’t know. I guess it’s sinking in now. I guess I miss him, I guess.” She looks down. “ I didn’t think I was going to call him. I don’t think I could do that to him. But now that I know the truth…I wonder if we…. I don’t know. I don’t know what to think about anymore, Mulder. Our son will see the end of the world and we won’t be there with him.” She finishes so quietly. She wonders if this was a good idea. Sharing this much with him. He wants to hold her, he thinks about how many dramatic moments in their lives required solemn words, words of comfort and courage to lift them from the darkness. He desperately wants to tell her the world won’t end. He wants to tell her they will see their son again. But he knows that is not the truth and cannot ever be the truth. She looks down. They both need so much to hope, but words of faith and love fall silent in the December night, and she holds on to the piece of paper like a lifeline. If this were a movie he would hold her and promise everything would be okay. But she knows, as he holds her shoulders to shield her from the freezing cold, as his lips rest on her right shoulder in silence, that there is no script for them. Not tonight. Not ever.

4. Belief
He feels nervous, he finds that funny, that he could feel nervous about someone else. He wonders if it is common of married couples or long-term couples to feel nervous about each other’s endeavors. He glances at his watch and looks around himself, scanning the coffee place for her. She’s not here yet. He casually scrubs the stubble growing on his cheeks and looks down at the menu. He feels more comfortable about being in public now. It has been four years since he ran, he wonders whether his case was now closed. He wonders if they thought he and Scully had actually died in the blaze at the anasazi ruins. He looks at his hands, they look coarse and rough now, maybe too much time spent in the garden, too much time spent exercising with weights in the back yard to keep fit. He laughs. Not much space for joining the local gym when you are a federal fugitive. He chuckles to himself again. From federal agent to federal fugitive, he remained in the shadow. Not even a surname in a letterbox. He simply didn’t exist anymore. In more ways than just one, losing his battle to the conspirators, he had lost a piece of himself long before the death sentence, long before the trial, long before running away. He never fully comprehended the extent of the consequences of that little detour off life and into death. He shakes his head. Could he ever understand. From the table closest to the glass window he spots her, walking steadily across the pavement with a pace that is uniquely hers. And for a moment he sees the woman who thirteen years before had held a gun to his face in some hidden refuge for ice research. She looks older now, she looks so much different that not many people would be able to recognize her. Something in her, yet, remained fundamentally unchangeable. The soft expression she assumed when she stroked her face, the frown on her forehead whenever he explained some paranormal phenomena of interest to him, the defeated half smile she would grant him as if to say I know you are nuts but I still trust you. He cherishes this. Each year has marked her within so much more deeply than he could tell about himself, maybe, and he cherishes her ability to remain just Scully to him. He looks down at his paper. Maybe he should tell her now. He considers. Maybe he should ask her. He looks at the advert on the paper and wonders how he can make it look casual, make it look less obvious, as if he had not spent the past months thinking about it. Images play within his mind, of his beautiful son, and he remembers the joy of receiving those rare emails from her containing pictures of him. He closes his eyes and for a moment he can see her and hear words pronounced by her long ago. And the scene materializes itself in his head, he sees his old apartment, he sees her walking back and forth in front of his couch, too nervous to sit down and rationalize her request calmly, he sees her and remembers the way the evening artificial street lamp lights lit up her auburn hair as he tried to concentrate on her features as she asked him to be the donor for the IVF procedure. He remembers feeling numb for a few days. He remembers running a lot. He smiles. He had wanted nothing more than to be in her life permanently and their relationship had started to unfold slowly and when she had asked him, before becoming physically involved, he had been scared. Scared of what failure would have cost her, and them. He remembered Emily and how he had bluntly told her he was afraid of what this little creature could signify to her and what her loss could do to her. As she had stood in front of him telling him that the IVF had failed, her hopes shattered and her faith scarred, he had felt ashamed for ever questioning it in the first place. He breathed her sorrow and pronounced words of hope he truly and deeply believed for once. Now, years down the line, he felt a different man. He was afraid to ask. For reasons other than Scully’s reaction. He was scared of his own reactions. He too feared the possibilities. He feared failure, he feared that the void the loss had left behind had scarred them permanently. Her heels tap on the hardwood floor and she sits next to him.
“ You don’t look awfully paranoid, Mulder.”
“ Glad I have actually changed that.” He says as he hands her the menu. She moves her hair behind her shoulders and looks at the menu. “ Did you manage to finish the chapter you were working on, Mulder? You were up all night.” She lets out the second part of the statement in a quiet whisper, as if acknowledging his presence or lack of in their bed was still something new and secret to them. He lifts up the side of his mouth. “ There is something deeply complicated in explaining how chupacabras operate, Scully. It requires time. ” He says shaking his head. *Maria!!! Maria!!!* She smiles, at the memory, perhaps. “ So..” he clears his throat. –“ how did the interview go.” He says. The long legged blonde waitress comes to take Scully’s order of coffee, cream, no sugar. He smiles at his theory. Some things never change. She looks at him. “ Fine. I think. They said the lab has vacancies I could fill. They said there might be in the future the possibility to teach some classes to external universities using our facilities.” She finishes.
“ That’s good.” He says. And maybe he sounds unsure because she raises an eyebrow towards her coffee and silently sips the black liquid. “Yeah.” She says finally.
“ You are not happy?” he asks simply.
“ I am. It’s a start, Mulder.” She says. A start. What a thing. A start at their age. He finds this tragically amusing. He sips his latte and remains pensive.
“ What’s that?” she asks and pulls one magazine from the pile of daily newspapers he buys every morning. Her eyes linger on the laminate cover page, her hand grazes the title and he notices her eyes water. “ Where did you get this.” She says. He smiles sadly and leans closer as he always does when they share a moment only the two of them can comprehend. He reads outloud “ The Lone Gunmen: Special Edition. The Secret Books of the Presidents. From the Sacred Graal to the treasure hunt for the Mayan lost world. July 1998” He finishes softly. He looks at her. She seems to go through images in her mind, memories, moments. She looks down. She wants to tell him about them. His best friends. How they sacrificed themselves. He holds out a hand and she holds it, looks up at him. “ There is something I need to ask you.” He says quietly. And her eyes lock on his. She scrutinizes him. Looks through him to find the answers. He knows he very seldom is direct about asking things to her. He knows answers are not very straightforward with them either.
“ If I said that I knew things have been hard for you since William I’d be lying. I don’t know.” She is quiet now. His lips become thin when he focuses on the words, he keeps them pressed against each other and looks at the napkin by her left hand. She looks focused, she frowns slightly and he looks into her azure eyes. “ And I know things aren’t exactly as you envisaged your life 10 years ago. Well not even 5 years ago for that matter.” She looks down. “Mulder..” she tries to reassure him and urge him to talk on. Her hand poses on his left wrist and an image flashes through his mind of another diner in another time, as he read his sister’s diary and she companionably listened to his interpretation of her tired words. She is still the same Scully. This reassures him. He feels a warm feeling emanating from between his shoulder blades, maybe this is what comfort feels like. He can’t tell. He can do this. He can ask. This is Scully.
“ And this may not be the right time to ask. But I wonder if there will ever be a right time, Scully.” He looks at her with intense fascination.
“ Mulder, you’re scaring me. I don’t understand what you’re asking” She says and her frowning becomes more accentuated
He takes her hand and nods reassuringly.
“ I am not sure either.” He looks down at her small white hand in his dark tanned one. He takes a deep breath and pauses to think of the words.
“ A child, Scully.” He finishes quietly. Her brows arch upwards in surprise. Her chin shakes now. Damn it, he thinks, sadness was the last emotion he wanted to evoke. He thought by asking her he would ask for a truce, an end to the silent emotion war raging between them in years.
“ Mulder. I can’t. You know I can’t.” she says and it sounds like she feels hurt for his forgetfulness. He shakes his head.
“ We already had a miracle, Scully. Who’s to say we can’t hope for another one.” Her eyes burn him now, she purses her lips in pain.
“ William was not a miracle. Not in the sense we want it to mean. It wasn’t God we were supposed to thank, Mulder. You know that.” She finishes firmly but quietly.
“ Scully the IVF had failed, he was a miracle.” She shakes her head.
“ From a barren mother and a father experimented-upon more times than a lab rat? Mulder. I have seen what he was capable of doing. He was my child. I loved him dearly. But he was no coincidence, no natural conception. And I can’t. I just can’t bear the thought of failing him again.” She finishes quietly. He looks down.
“ I asked you never to give up on a miracle Scully. To believe.” He leans closer and her eyes water now.
“ I have believed the lie, Mulder. I know the truth now. This is why I gave him up. They would never give up. They would never believe he was normal. I am as certain of this as you are of your truth. I cannot conceive a child. And I do not want to fool myself with the pretense that if I believe a miracle hard enough it will happen.” She finishes quietly. His hand moves up to wipe her tears off her cheeks.
“ I just can’t accept that.” He says quietly. “ I refuse to believe that.”
She shakes her head. “ I don’t have the strength to believe this anymore, Mulder.”
He holds her hand to his mouth and smiles to her lightly.
“ Then I will believe for the both of us.”

5. Rebirth.
She closes her eyes as the sun bathes her, arms crossed at her chest clad in a dark red top, she lets the summer heat warm her bones.
“ This is not fair, Scully.” His voices reaches her and she smiles without opening her eyes. A little cutout piece of normality, she would like to take a picture of this moment and burn it in her memory, but she knows she doesn’t need to. It will remain within her. As she leans against the white ford fresh from the car dealership, she opens her eyes and brushes her hands on her faded jeans , she looks at him as he walks up the steps of their new home. All windows are open to let new air and sunlight go in and she enjoys the view as he reaches the front porch and drops two cardboard boxes full of unidentifiable objects, books most probably, on the wooden planks of the patio. He brushes the dust on his dark jeans, leaving dark marks like streaks from his fingers across his thighs and knee areas. He reaches to the hem of his dark green tshirt and quickly pulls it over his head, waving it in front of himself like a banner before throwing it on the chair by the decking. He wipes sweat from his forehead and she smiles at him amused, he has not changed, he is so casual with his occasional semi-nudity. She is glad the new home allows them to enjoy a degree of privacy they had almost forgotten could in fact exists. She looks proud of them, for so much has been lost, so much has been sacrificed, so much drama had turned their existences into a hero-like fantasy story, and still they could enjoy small moments, insignificant at first but fuller than any big discovery in their angst filled drama. She smiles at him, moments like this are so underrated, she thinks. She walks towards the house and he leans on the white fence. He looks down at her from the railing. She looks at the scar on his shoulder, he notices and gives her half a smile.
“ In some States you could be arrested for public indecency, you know.” She says playfully and moves her weight on one foot.
“ Well I’ve been accused of worse.” He says and she shakes her head smiling. She cannot believe it. Six years and a half down the line and the case was closed, cold. She sent a silent thankful prayer as she closed her eyes for an instant and was rewarded with the warmth of the sun, as the breeze slowed down for a moment only to pick up again as she opened her eyes. He looked amused, mesmerized by her. Could he tell? Could he tell that for once in a long time this was as close as she ever got to happiness? And true to form, she didn’t care.
He holds one hand to the solid wood of the front wall, pats it proudly and looks at her.
“ Am I betraying my cool exterior if I say now in a decisively girly voice that I am dying for a glass of ice tea, Scully?” he says and her smile widens, he must be in good spirits too, he very seldom is these days. For all she can remember of the past six years spent on the run his humor and sarcasm have been ever present, but not very often have his remarks been underpinned by the sweet undertone of contentment. She is a little proud. And part of her is also scared that this will soon vanish, that the happiness of the moment will be replaced by paranoia, angst and routine in a few months. He looks down at her, detecting her faltering.
“ What’s the matter, don’t like the woodwork?” he says and she thinks that whatever the deal, she had better not question the moment. She seizes it then, smiling at him she walks up the stairs, counting them mentally as she goes, she counts all that has been lost and one by one those steps grow in meaning, achieve full consideration and at the same time are slowly passed, as she encounters those which follow in her path, she looks up and he stands at the end of the staircase. She smiles at the metaphor, it seems like everything leads to him. She remembers one afternoon sitting in a Buddhist temple shaking with realization, sorrow and fear that the very same understanding of her life had irremediably led her to him. This has not changed. All paths leads to this very moment, he had said. They do indeed, she thinks, and all other choices were wrong, her voice echoes in the backroom of her mind. She reaches the end of the stairs and he looks pensive, as he detects the faint thought trail in her eyes.
“ Well, Mulder, I don’t know…” she says as her hand mimic his early gesture and she holds the wood of the small column at the side of the door “… it’s a fine piece of ash alright.” She says and she is rewarded with a full toothy Muldersmile, a personal best, she thinks, score one for me, thank you, goodnight.
“ I thought we would go for something smaller” she says, as she looks at the house.
“ So it has two spare rooms, big deal. Consider one of those my spooky studio. Somewhere you can eventually lock me up when I lose my mind, Scully.” He walks closer and puts one hand on her shoulder, she arches an eyebrow. “ Besides…. – he continues casually as he leans closer to her and his forehead is now brushing hers. - … who knows we might need one of those rooms at some point.” He finishes quietly and although the subject had very often been avoided in the past, they had made a silent deal of not letting this be an issue, of not letting it tear them apart, of allowing it to seep to the surface but never hurt them directly of never being an item of attack one of them could use on the other. Perhaps of letting it rest as a silent hope, a distant belief in the powers of change. He seals the deal with a quick brush of lips as the electricity washes over them like it always did. She smiles against his lips and caresses his cheek with one quick touch. No, she thought, there is no point in questioning this.
“ Say, how about giving that ‘ice tea’ thing a try, would ya, Scully. A man has needs.” He says as he takes her hand closer to his lips. She enjoys his occasional romance, a small piece of Mulder she has the luxury of experience every once in a while. Combined with contained Mulderhappiness, relative calmness and peace, she does not dare to wonder the reasons, dares not leave her thoughts wander in paranoia and darkness although she knows the time will come for that too. She smiles, for now, and pulls him inside the threshold of their home.
“ Who knows, if there already is ice tea in the fridge it could be love.”
She smiles to herself and the end of the world can wait just for now.

X Salem IV

2009-07-13T08:14:00.000-07:00

July,

9:48 a.m.

Nurse's Residence outside

The shovel dug on the soil behind the small house…

-What do you think you'll find, pricker?- Langly asked, breathing heavily, leaning on the handle of the shovel, while observing me along the perimeter of the wooden walls of the small house.

-Instead of being so curious, keep helping me..- I answer without interrupting the rhythm.

IF we remain on the surface, I think I we might be able to see some
inscriptions if there is any.

They are usually circles, with a small flower inscribed inside, magic symbols, sometimes they might be actual spells, inscribed upon the walls,rooted deep down to the foundations of the building.
they can be good or evil, depending upon the formula used, upon the
astrology and upon the intentions of whomever created them.

Froikee is one foot away from me, he takes my place when I straighten up again.

He looks at me crossed under a big hat, as he begins to dig.

-Near the foundations…don't go too deep and stay close to the wall,remember. As you go on, I'll go around the building- I tell him

- Don't worry, I will let you have a look at those texts… Aren't you
afraid of going to hell, Melvin? Those scripts have been compiled by sinfull atheists.- I continue amused.

-Could I damn myself on anything better?- Frohikee replies, speeding up his work.

After one hour, we have finished the same activity all around the Martin and Good's houses.

Houses which have been abandoned by the families torn apart, without any graphic presence of spells.

We side Scullee's house, and I lower my head, guilty of allowing one of Eve's daughters to distract me.

The same procedure is going to be applied to the houses of the 'afflicted', starting from Parris' residence.

The small allotment where I have firstly encountered Scullee has already become a place for good and lovely memories.

Far from the loudness of these trials, far, she and I, in my deepest
thoughts…

- Enough! You are treating us like slaves! Your immoral texts won't be enough to compensate us for this work! – Langly erupts, tired and hot.

- I am sorry, my friends, we can stop now, I haven't found anything I was looking for..- I admit tired placing my hand on my hips, smelling the fresh soil, looking at the bright blue sky.

We spent the entire morning digging and looking, but nothing has been fruitful.

- What are you doing? Are you doing the Devils' work now?- Parris's squeaky voice makes us jump.

- Reverend, my name is Foxcroft Moulder, sent here by Oyers and
Terminators to investigate Salem..- I reply annoyed, but he stops me
angrily, his face red.

- How dare you look for evidence in my house! My daughter and niece are haunted by devilish women and you come here and look for… what are you evenlooking for?!! In the name of God, I am ordering you to stop immediately!!-his hysterical tone does not distress me nor my friends.

Calmly they pick their tools and preceed me, walking away from the man, while I remain there to talk to the Reverend.

- Mr Parris, you cannot talk to me like that. I have been authorized by the Court itself! – my voice thunders on his small figure.

I am dirty, soil, sweat, maybe even manure…I feel a lot more 'clean' than him.

I stare at him for a few moments, in his small angry eyes, then I leave him with himself, without saying anything else.

To be continued

Xxx
19th August
Tavern
08:22 p.m.

Today they have hung more witches, or alleged ones. Amongst them three men and Reverend Burroghs, who had for years served in Salem.
I have not joined the group upon the hill, I stayed in my room, to think, after another morning spent looking for evidence.
After a few hours I have heard a number of doors close, silently, and from that I gathered everything was over.
I understand, with the screeching wood of the door, the sins of those who go against their brothers.
I have spoken to many citizens of the village and of the town, they didn’t trust me at first, but knowing who I was, their testimony helped.
Most of them I found were quite angry, not very trusting and almost against each other.
Most of them answered my questions on their doorstep, others let me in, those were the most merciful.
They were afraid of my bizarre questions, some of them didn’t understand why I would talk about magic rituals and the occult, maybe some suspected my involvement too.
Sunday mass was quite useful too.
As Parris read the sermon, last week, some members of the community got up and left the place of worship.
I knew of some grievances against the Reverend, but I wouldn’t expect them to be so heavy and evident.
Tomorrow, non God’s day, I will be back in Boston.
I have sent for my Harvard teacher news that I want to meet him, I have to urgently speak to him, so tonight I will take leave of the Deputy Governor.
After my reports with the Curia, many weeks have passed and I have not met Scullee.
The village seems to be convulsively mad, instead of crying for the dead, everyone blaming each other.
It looks like a delation fever has swept across the village.
I notice the judges split, I believe the situation reflects their decisions.
They speak with each other, with worried looks and angry thoughts.
The Deputy Governor sits with Sewall, immersed in an acrimonious conversation, their voices running high at times, although I notice that they are not arguing, they are agreeing with each other.
Salem’s prisons will not be enough, the new defendants will need to be moved to Boston..in an atmosphere of hurt and hate.
At a wide table, sit Oyers and Terminers.
They are more relaxed, and talk about the Lord’s doing, sure that everything will be over when they are taken away.
Tonight I have invited for dinner those who have helped me to dig, hoping I could make amends for wasting their time.
Two of them arrive and, must it be because of our shared love for ahem French libels, when I arrived I felt so lonely, however their faces were enough to make me smile.
I have often seen them, and after the first time, other than for useful news for my reports, I have found their company pleasant.
- Hello Moulder, ready to leave?- Melvin says to me, walking in late and already finding smoking beans on our plates.
- Sure, God willing – I answer, asking them to sit next to our neighbours.
- Just between us, you are doing a good thing leaving, if I could I’d do it…after Captain Alden’s arrest..I fear…I really do. – Ringed says, drinking from a beer jug.
- Lower your voice, Langly, behind you are some people who don’t hesitate to judge. I will be back. I am not done here. I need more elements, and I am determined to find them..- I warn them, smiling subtly.
- I know, I know I must be careful . Have you talked to Parris’ slave? – Ringed asks, eating his coriander and beans soup.
- No but I know she practices Obeah*, which is normal for Antille’s Indians. - I admit.
- They are all atheists, it’s obvious. – Melvin says, biting a roast turkey leg.
- Listen Frohike: The Scullys…- I stop and he’s almost chocking on a bite of turkey, I hit his shoulder, across the table
- What? What’s wrong?- i ask, amused by his funny face, looking across at his blonde friend who’s looking down instead, almost shy.
He replies to me- I have asked Kate to marry me, years ago…- he breathes and coughs. - and?- I worry about the answer
- Nothing. She rejected with absolute certainty, wanting to stay with her mother, growing up to serve the Lord with her mother, and her brother’s children. I could have offered her a comfortable life. But she never wanted. She doesn’t want to get married . – he looks sad, beyond belief.
- And her sister, Melissa?- I ask, trying to hide the satisfaction in my eyes, which I am not sure I can do.
- It was terrible to see her die, but she was a witch…- he replies, touching his forehead in a cross twice.
Langly imitates him quickly, then ordering another roast chicken from Samuel.
- I am not sure…- I say with a low tone.
- Shh, are you insane, pricker? Sure, if you say that…- he says stretching on the back of the chair.
- I have studied every single decree of these trials, I have seen those girls with my own eyes squirm and cry, claim that Rebecca Nurse was haunting them, but one day…I was in Parris study as usual and I could see the hall. I saw Abigal Williams take nails from her sleeves and hurt herself…she did it to herself, do you understand?. What if they were all doing this to themselves, if they were faking it? – I try to give an explanation.
- I know Stoughton reconsidered the outcome on the Rebecca Nurse’s trial, poor woman… Sarah Nurse, her daughter, she claimed the same about the nails, that Abigail was lying to the court, she shouted it, different times, but the Deputy Governor didn’t want to accept the evidence! But to what purpose? You did not see any physical evidence on other witches?- he asks as he turns pale.We are all embarrassed now, thinking about it.
- If we were to admit that these girls fake it, you’d have to admit that they’ve been killing innocent people. Imagine the consequences. The Deputy Governor’s power would shatter.- i reply very quietly, almost disgusted then I start again
- I have not been allowed to see the physical evidence. I know some material has been kept away…- I see some sort of morbid curiosity in Frohikee and Langly but I try not to notice
- The Devil’s nipple, that’s what they call it. The witches use it to feed the Evil, that is why it is hidden. – Ringed continues, but I interrupt him, being more interested in other cases.
- I’d like to meet the prison guard, could you take me to him? I could interrogate Tituba in prison. The official ways take too long. But personal acquaintances lead you much closer- i ask them, finishing my turkey leg.
- Consider it a done thing, on Saturday nights he doesn’t work and usually comes here. You may have seen him already, you’ve been here for a while, I will point you to him.- they accept, with Melvin’s words.
We keep chatting, about the north wind which could bring about good fishing.
- Moulder…when was the last time you saw Kate Scullee?- Frohikee asks.
- Why are you asking?- i try to maintain a cold tone, uninterested, hoping I can hold it.
- My neighbour’s sister bragged about the fact that William and Charles Scullee hate you – he informs me, lowering his eyes.
Just their names hit me and I think he must have realized it.
- I..I …she…she has been my first contact with the community…She has directed me to you and so I’ve done… I…I have only seen her again when I talked to her mother, in their house. – I stutter like a guilty child.Melvin’s inquisitive look stops me from thinking about her further.
- Swear on God’s name that you have respected her. She has been seen walking by the shore with you. – he accuses me.
- That was days ago! That’s when I met the widow, and then…sure, I can swear it..if you…I have not seen her in days! I understand you don’t know me very well, and that you may have followed the rumors, but I have respected her, I fear the Lord and I am an honest man!! – I am honest and I feel uncomfortable.
My friend has the power to make me feel like the worst of sinners, uncovering my wrong doing in thoughts and imagination.
I feel like the flames of Hell are laughing at me, waiting for me.
I am losing lucidity and the coldness required to continue to investigate.
Most of all, I would never let Scullee lose her respectful place in the community because of the distrust my work causes.
- This is not about me, she is not even thinking about me – my friend explains – but I want her beyond suspicion.. She’s already suffered a lot.- his tone is sad, he makes me think about the many balances I have managed to ruin since my stay here has started.
If my eyes had enough strength, like two wild horses, I would have taken her away from that brute, authorized to touch her, to say hello to her in the morning and say goodnight to her in the evening only by the blood in common.
Below the frame of the door stands a man, with curly brown hair and a peculiar face.
Melvin looks at him as he walks in and nods towards him.
He welcomes with big gestures of his arms, without explanation.
- Here is the man you wanted to meet. Jeffrey Spenders. Drink with us. Let us introduce you to the pricker from Boston- he finishes.

xxx

an hour later,

I am on my own, with me, in the tavern, the host and the table of the two main judges of the town.
I stand up and walk towards them.
- Gentlemen, forgive me, but I must leave. I will be on my way to Boston tomorrow.- I begin.
- When will you be back?- Sewall asks
I don’t have the time to answer back, as the Deputy Governor talk sto me.
- You have done a good job, so far, without a doubt. When will you be back. – he asks again
- I believe I can be back by Tuesday…- I start but I am interrupted again
- Are you going back to your mother? She has never really recovered, has she – Stoughton asks without being descreet
- That is so. – I answer restless, then I try to gather myself and I formally say goodnight.
I walk upstairs to my room and prepare a rucksack to take with me, leaving the heaviest bag behind.

To be continued

X Salem III

2008-11-07T07:07:00.000-08:00

Part III
The night embrice Salem and I continue to read about Melissa Scullee's trial.
A rummaging coming from the external stairs informs me that some members of the Tribunal are going back to their rooms.And again, the place falls silent.
The light of the fourth candle shakes, so I light another one.

Alexander Kry'kev, 34 years old, Salem Village,
Swore in front of Wait Still Winthorp, john Richards, John Hathorne, on the 13th day of May…
That a month to this date he was sleeping in his locked room and in the light coming from the fireplace, Melissa Scullee appeared to him, at the feet of his bed, wearing a long black hat, with a strange yellow bird on her shoulder. Fearing for his life as he experienced a strong pain to his throat, he tried to hit the apparition with a fist, however she disappeared.'
' Extract from Edward Jersey's deposition '
As Still Winthorp asked whether Melissa Scullee attempted to charm him into committing indicent acts, the man replied with a yes, specifying, however that he did not submit to her charm, and by praying ever night, he never heard her tempting voice again at night…'

These depositions remind me of the misoginy of the Witches' Hammer, still in use by the catholics as a basic taste for their trials against the devil.
I put the documents down, checking the chronological notes I have previously copied from the ecclesiastic registers.
Melissa Scullee was Kate's older sister, I realize by the christenings' dates.
According to the witnesses, Melissa was a witch, capable of appearing and disappearing according to will, to torment in figure or voice strong men afraid of God, as Phillip Padgett's deposition suggests too.
This reminds me of the Bishop's case too, in some particular instances.
I wonder whether they have really appeared to them, the alleged witches who were executed. Or whether it was only their very strong imagination to have evoked their ghostly figures, in men who can only desire in sin, and in such a manner have decided to give vent to their desires and temptations: describing it in front of a jury.
Executing the alleged temptresses?
To make temptation so extreme, to give the guilt to someone else, makes your conduct a lot less sinful.
To eliminate the very beign who evoked luxury and lust, to liberate themselves from sin.
Satan tempts and the man refuses, but cannot avoid the images.
The Lord's own Son, did he not have to overcome temptation himself in the desert?
The spirit of Evil tried him and He remained pure.
But not every member of mankind can remain pure to evil, as a second nature.
Againt Melissa, some accounts suggests she used to torment in the form of a black cat.
I look, in my bag, for a book I have taken from Oxford.Some Philosophical Considerations touching on Witches and Witchcrafe, by Glanvill.
Conscience tells me I shouldn't, he is an Anglican, but I shut it up, looking for the part of the book I am interested in.
He was still a man of faith, I conclude.
I read until a passage I remember clearly.
' Beforehand to presume that things ( of witchcraft) were impossibile, and the to conclude that the fact could not be proved…' this is Glenvill's critique of Hobbes, the godless philosopher.
' …we can only perceive the weakness and imperfection of our knowledge and our learning capabilities, not the impossibility of such performances.'
Human beings have the right to insist about the impossibility of anything, I wonder mentally.
Magic, according to Glanvill, is possible so…but only as functional argument against Hobbes, who in turn, believed the Roman Clergy used belief in spirits and ghosts, to keep the people ignorant and to manipulate it. Avoiding a personal and individual political growth.
Us protestants grew stronger, away from Rome's power.
And what if here, in Salem, ignorance were united with the most horrid fears, with envy?
What if Evil had used the weaknesses of those girls?
If he had used a Caribbean slave to do so?
Was it enough to cause all this?
Is Satan here, amongst them?
Why, for what purpose?
The fire that happened a few years ago in Boston, the death of so much cattle, could they have cause fear amongst these good citizens and fishermen, as obscure divine premonitions?
We are still standing here fighting apparitions and ghosts, or are we fighting the power to intervene on another human being, as our Lord allows us?
Lucifer has his reign, and this is new territory.
Our Lord left us to our personal fate, which he chose Himself, at the beginning of Times.
Because of our original sins, impossible to erase.
I lower myself onto the bed, thinking of how much Scullee must have suffered, when looking at her sister, she had to witness the rope tied around her neck, looking at her for the last time with watery eyes, to say goodbye one last time, a privilege I, myself, was not granted so many years ago.
A thin arm touches my face in the dark,
A woman, with her mouth and eyes sawn with a black wire, blood on the side of her mouth. A face so familiar and at the same time foreign to me.
Her dead hands tighten around my nec, and her mouth vomits black blood.
Her hair is like infernal flames.
A loud sound similar to teeth grinding, clouds my hearing
Her finger are so strong, so thin and cold.
I try to free myself and my throat but her blind eyes keep me in place.
I choke, and the air feels like death.
Black blood drops fall on my face, I am terrified, and I jump at every cold and devilish drop which fall on my face and infiltrate my mouth and my eyes. A hole in the black ground seems to ingurgitate me, I know it is for me…I jerk from the bed, sweat pouring down.
Evil invited me to a nightmare, I condlude, trying to catch my breath, I find myself again the small room, still lit by the small candle.

The following day
Salem town,
Scullee's house
06:35 p.m.

- My daughter was not a witch, she just made one mistake, to trust little Abigail and Mary.. She played with them…She cared about all our neighbours, she was very kind to everyone…- sobbing, Margareth Scullee tried to regain composure.
I have not been here long, here, immersed in this family's pain.
She sits at the table, Kate stands next to the fireplace, calmly drying up her tears, without looking at us.
Another woman, younger, folds an Army uniform with practical hands. She sits away.
- Have you got any more children, Ms Scullee?-
- Yes, two boys. Their late father's pride. Both in the Royal Army. Tara, here, she's William's wife. – she answers drying her eyes with her apron, pointing at the lady sitting quietly in a corner.
She doesn't look back
Fruit appears from a bowl on the table, a white cat licks his fur, next to the door.
- I am so sorry, I hope … - she gets up.
- I pray to God everynight that no one can end up that way. They didn't even allow us a chrisitan burial ceremony for her..- she says disappointed.
- God bless you..- she says and leaves me, through a small door, with her heart full of uncertainty.
Talking to her did not inform me of anything new-
I should find out what kind of contact the possessed had with the withces.
I walk towards the open door and look up to Scullee.
Tara, who had not spoken yet, whispers something to her, getting closer and then leaves too.
- Did you know my sister? – she ask, following me outside the door.
The mischievous cat plays with the hem of her skirt, and follows us lazily.
I answer her positively with my eyes.
It was good to see her again, after last night's nightmare, I didn't think I could have dealt with her sad and hard look. I didn't think I could cope with it. Instead, here between her familiar things and her family, has chased away the coldness of my nightmare.
We walk towards the path to the sea.
- She loved the Lord and His Creation, she thought that living this life, full of sacrificies, would make us better.. but it wasn't like that.. The only sin she's ever done was to not to be smart enough to avoid people's evil rumors…- she folds her hands on her apron, considering the path we embarked on.
- Tell me, what kind of connection was there between her and the people who accused her?- I ask quietly, afraid to ask too intimate details.
I have not known Scullee for very long, I understand however that she has received a very strict religious education, but this thought does not prevent me from looking at her when I ask her questions.
The blue in her eyes reminds me of peacock's, the shiny blue of their regal necks.
We shine in the summer light and dust.
- She pushed them away when they asked for her hand… She felt free, maybe too much..- she answers, after a small pause, distracted by an annoying insect flying by.
- And what about the possessed girls?
- All I know is that one time, she found them in the woods, she condessed they had tried a spell…maybe they saw my sister who tried to explain to them thye didn't need spells to know the future.. I think maybe they tried to make her pay for her honesty…accusing her of the very thing they are guilty of…- she adds angrily.
- Can I ask you what you were reading yesterday?- I am starting to worry for her that all this talking about the possessed girls could be too dangerous.
- Increase Mather's sermons, the ones about the comets of a decade ago. In foster's print..- she says innocently.
- I know the topic very well. Heaven's Alarm. So you know that supernatural apparitions to a believer must be…- I begin but I am interrupted.
- ' God operates in a supernatural way on the wolrd, refusing to use the ordinary course of natural law…'- she quotes
- So supernatural is used by God as means of 'occasional' activity in the wolrd.- I conclude.
- Yes, but the apparition of a comet, just like ten years ago, should not be read as a signal by God that innocent people should die because of mad people's accusations. – she says indignantly
I am surprised by this woman's smartness, by her competent intellect.
If I picture her immersed in her reading, I feel secure, she make me feel like she never leaves anything unsure and vague.
- Obviously not. It doesn't say that. But it poses the roots for the belief in the supernatural, even within the divine creation. – I try to divert the conversation
- I cannot believe that. I prefer to believe Newton's 'Mathematical Principles', you know, the new member of the Royal Society. He tries to give a natural explanation, to every physical event. Why could we not give a Newtonian explanation to what appears to be witchcraft?
- Are you aware that what you are saying now could very well incriminate you too? – I tremble, hearing her extreme theories in such a small and sinister corner of the world.
A woman interested in science should be feared more than a witch.
- Of what – she looks at me, and I understand she is seeking to know whether she can trust me or not.
I try to do the same, I would love to trst her, I would like her to understand that…
- Alchemy.. you know better than me, that it is dangerous to investigate the Nature, only God has the plan for his Creation…Why are you so interested in men's science? Is your faith not enough?
I am not trying to make her stop, I would like it if she could speak forever to me.
I would listen to her for hours.
- Be calm, you are the first and last person I speak to about this. I believe God has allowed us to understand, beside feeling, the Nature around us. When our fathers arrived here, they found a bizarre and hostile world, which they were able to tame with their work, guided by Go. Natural or scientifical theories on nature could serve to avoid superstition. I wish science could take away our fears, to live happily in God's faith. ' I belive to understand, I don't understand to believe', Anselmo wisely belives – when she speaks, I could damn myself in her
Her eyes are so tempting.
She is similar to a net, a cobweb of silk and velvet, wherein I could…I want to lose myself.
A labyrinth where I wouldn't look for a way out, and her, my mythological Arianne could get lost with me.
- Be careful, you are falling into those theories which believe Satan is a silly story for weak women. And you can't afford that. You are a Puritan: you believe in God therefore you believe in his nemesis too- I say
- I know Satan tries to take hold of the human soul, but I also believe in the unconditional action of the Divine Grace – here she is again, she goes back to being a contradiction, skeptical and full of faith.
I am surprised how this woman could grasp all my thought is this way, that she could contrast me in the most certain theories!
I feel my suppositions shake, and my faith doesn't seem to be this strong anymore…
- What about your sister? You said you think she was innocent. But her infallible destiny was already written, as is everyone else's…you are aware of the impossibility of changing it…we are not free – I try to soothe her pain, but I don't feel like I am able to.
- We are not free, it is true, but this awareness makes us worthy. Our work makes us worthy. She has always acted for the good…Melissa is in God's heaven, I know that, because this comforts me immensely. Through my prayers I feel her happy, with my father and the Omnipotent. God does not intervene so to do bad. You know that better than me, you had the opportunity to study. I received a puritan education and found myself interested in some books and sermons I found while working .- she is so sure of her faith, at the same time she is so sure of her will too.
She could be a dangerous woman.
I have met dangerous women, when I was a young student, but they were only tempting, daughters of Venus, followers of luxury, they tempted me and I fell.
But with her… she has an active mind, like mine..
Her body is hidden and I shyly blush before my thought.
It's her mind the dangerous temptation
I should start the conversation again, I should confuse myself with quotes, sayings, theories.
- You know, sometimes I thin catholics are better off, with their free will. This freedom of will could explain how those girls could have accused your sister by their own will instead of being pushed by the Evil. And that the Evil could be destroyed through you Newtonian science. I would love it to be that way. If this hemisphere God does not want to interfere and leaves everything to Evil, then could science destroy Evil- I have her attention now, we stop, warm by the walk and by our theories.
- Evil is necessary, from the contrast Virtue rises up. It will never be defeated. Catholics are quite superstitious, don't you think? – she pauses – Are you going to tell what I have told you? Are you on their side, pricker? – she challenges me, look bluntly into my eyes, beyond the measure allowed to us.
- I am on no one's side. I trust no one. I believe in God, not in men. – I say dryily.
- You are being bitter…- she says sweetly.
- I am because of my past. – I admit to her, maybe for the first time in years.
We remain quiet and start walking again, reaching the top of a cliff with a view of the village and the town, as if they were bonded.
- Look..Seeing it from here, Salem almost looks like a nice place to live in . – she invites me to look at the beauty, but with a sad tone.
- True – I convene without being very convinced
How can this be?
How can one feel so attracted to someone one doesn't know at all?
I sit by a rock, distant from where she stands, looking at the sea below us.
With her arms around her midriff, she is almost lulling herself.
I feel tenderness for this woman, for her family hit too hard, and I understand I will not be accomplice of the Oyers and Terminers..
She flinches a little when she realizes I have moved away.
I see her getting closer, hugging herself in the wind rasing her dress.
She sits and looks down, on the grass she's playing with, and I can see her fingers bend and intertwine with the grass. She awaits.
Is she waiting for me to tell her about myself? For me to give her my trust, but how can I?
I am the last of the men…or is this my imagination too?
- I am surprised by how you trust me…a strager. – I admit confused.
- That is precisely why I trust you, you are away from this place, you belong somewhere else. – she says
- Is it so – I say unhappily
- What is wrong?- she wonders worried
- It's nothing. Some old memories. – Maybe this place makes me feel so homeless, but I am starting to feel out of place.
It is true, I don't belong here, I don't belong to anyone..
God cannot placate my pain…I swear inside myself.
- By serving God I have learnt to listen…- her voice appears suppressed, hidden.
Her pale skin shines pink.
- KATE! Come back home immediately!- a scream makes us jump and break away from our intimate thoughts.
She gets up serenely and explains
- That's William, by older broche. The head of the family. Calm down now. – she says convinced, not afraid, talking to me first and then to him.
- Isn't Melissa's reputation enough? Do you want to compromise yourself in front of the whole town with this Bostonian? Our father would have never approved of your behavious! Do you want to burn in hell? – he roars
She does not look up, absorbing his screams and shaking violently from side to side.
But not me.
I get up quickly and get closer to the siblings.
- Leave her alone, you're hurting her!- I try to convince her
He angrily looks at me and the shouts his words at me
- Don't you dare stick your nose in this! You are here to catch the witches, not to get involved with our girls. LEAVE NOW, or I'll tell the deputy governor!!- he threatens.
- If you prefer, we can deal with this right now, me and you – I roar back
I am shaking by the need to hit him.
We stay there, breathing against each other, for a few instants.
- William stop! Think about mother! And about the son God is about to give you! Let's go back home. – she clams him, and he lets go of her bruised arm, she drags him away from me.
- If you fancy any other information, you city-bound bastard, come looking for me!!- William Sculle screams, as his sister tries to drag him away.
I have met almost all the members of the Scullee's family.
My anger does not calm, when I see them walk away talking.
My destiny? Always the same: creating troubles and not being able to get out of them.
My curiosity, my boundless passion to look into the abyss.
This will take me to eternal damnation.
Have I shared chaste issues with a woman only to allow myself to burn with desire?

X Salem II

2008-11-07T07:06:00.001-08:00

Part IISighing will not help me to get rid of this obscure feeling that followed meever since I found out I had to leave Boston, I feel estranged all of a sudden,i've never felt like this even when I left to study in oxford.This time, i'm only a few miles away from home... but which home?Who am I fooling, I have no home.I call home a place where my mother locks herself in her room and my father istoo busy with his commercial projects.We don't pray together anymore.I should probably go and look at the Rev's archive, first of all.I get dressed and ask Samuel for directions.- Sir, you should really avoid wandering around. This place belongs to theDevil. I never go out, and neither do I allow my wife and my children to go outin the streets...after all that's happened in the Tribunal...who can assure methe Black Man will not take us all? – the father seems even more scared thanhis child, he warns me, as he is tidying up the rooms, in the light of theearly afternoon, between the smell of the clean dishes and old spilt beer.- Be calm, I am here to find the Evil, and the sooner we'll do that with thehelp of God, the sooner you can go back to the streets. Good day. – I leave himalone, to dry pints with an unconvinced expression on his face, which followsme as I turn my back.The shadows look longer, we are almost in July.I am not wearing a hat, that's not too important, i've never cared that muchabout propriety.I walk closer to the Tribunal, from which come shouts followed by the DeputyGovernor's voice requesting silence.I enter from the side door, the contrast between dark and the outside light doesnot allow me to grasp much of what's going on beyond the table, in front of thelibrary.When my eyes adjust to the dark, I realize i'm not alone, in Parri's studioroom.

Parris's study,
05:38 p.m.

- Who are you? – a petite young lady asks me, looking angry with her infinitely
sad blue eyes.
White walls separate us from the Hall, which i occasionally peep into, beyond a
light cotton drape. The hall is made of dark wood. I look at faces, sad looks,
tears, before looking back at my inhospitable guest.
I am rendered speachless by her stubborness and angry attitude.
I clear my throat and introduce myself.
- Was he not happy with the witnesses? He needed a pricker.- she sharply
answers, as soon as I said my name.
- Madame, I do not know how I should address you, as you are here...- i try to
explain but I'm confused, trying to explain to her I still don't know who she
is.
- My name is Kate Scullee, Salem's Scripture Reader. – she finally answers,
lowering her head covered in a black bonnett.
- Are you irish?- I ask, her surname sounds strange to me, I knew some catholics
lived in these colonies, but I did not know they would convert to our faith.
- I am, sir. Protestan, however, sir. I surely do not support the pope!- she
adds proudly.
I realize she holds a libell in her hands.
Incredibly thin hands, I notice.
Her profile is delicate, her nose is proportionate and her red lips show a melancholic twist. Her neck was long and fine.
- Could you tell me why you are here and not in the hall, with your fellow citizens –
I hold my hands behind my back, waiting to find out more.
The distance between us is heightened by the simplistic furniture of the room.
- Those are not my fellow citizens anymore, they are barbarians possessed by the devil- she says with a whisper.
- What do you mean?- she keeps me wondering, with her veiled behavious.
- Nothing, Mr. Moulder, forget that and forgive me, I have been rude. Where you looking for something here? Do you need my help? – she seems to correct her behaviour, without showing to be much convinced by her move.
- Yes, thank you. I would like to see the Reverend's registers. I have been granted access by the deputy Governor. – I add, as if I felt out of place, stepping forward towards the desk.
She steps back, without looking at me.
- I am sure. Here they are – she stretches her arm above the table, handing me some volumes.
With my eyes, I ask for permission to take a seat, and she accepts with a nod, moving away towards the small window, without any curtain, opposite the desk.
I open one of the volumes, the one with births and deaths.
The yellow paper shows me names, dates, sums of money.
Parris is a reverend who's been well treated by his community, apparently.
I go through the sums and consider every single piece of data which may be considered interesting.
Meanwhile, she fits the scarf on her head, her eyes never meeting mine, she goes back to her book.
- Would you like to have a seat?- I ask after some time spent together but always In silence.
I smile at her unwillingly, but I suddently understand I have asked too much.
I castigate myself silently for that.
She looks at me, as if she had not heard me, and leaves the room, without a word.
I try to read those volumes for about half an hour, I look around, and from the small window of the study I see Scullee outside, so I finish off my notes on my notebook and decide to go to her, almost fervent with curiosity.
The cold walls of the study is replaced by the hot atmosphere outside, in the garden, warming me immediately.
I turn my head towards her figure.
She sits on an ash bench, her face looks concentrated on what she is reading, she doesn't realize I am there, walking towards her, without sitting. I respectfully remain distant.
- Please forgive me for what happened before… I have been impudent, please understand I have only just recently come from Boston and…- I begin saying sorry for my despicable behaviour, but she interrupts me immediately.
- Are you all like this in Boston?- she asks, without moving her eyes from the pages she's reading.
Her hands betray her tone of voice, they shake against the leather book cover and the pages.
Her voice, however, does not tremble.
- What do you mean? You mean impertinent? I don't think so...- I reply, shifting the weigh of my body from one foot to another.
She makes me feel restless, this woman is a stranger.
A seagull flies low and distracts our attention with its song.
- I mean so used to be right.- she asks back, she raises her head, looking ahead.
- Please forgive me once again for my impertinent behavior – I realize I might have been a total idiot in making such remarks about her origins and also smiling to her in that indecent manner.
- I don't feel offended. Often you ought to look beyond appearances. – She calmly responds.
- Do it now, then. – I invite.
Her eyes move to me, questioning.
I have just realized how beautiful she is.Simply beautiful.
Some red locks have escaped the cap she is wearing.
- I mean, please allow me the opportunity to explain. I need some help. I don't know anyone around here and you are the only one, it seems to me, that really doesn't like folliwng the trials. – I explain, without irony.
If she behaves so differently and independently from the rest of the community, maybe she could help me with some of the trials.
- It's sad. – she raises her eyes, towards the fields, far away – this village was happy, we used to honour the Lord, work hard the fields He created… now everything has changed. – she finishes bitterly.
- - Please explain to me what has changed. – I attempt to ask
She has made me curious, about why she goes against the collectivity, what else does she hide?
- Sir, with all due respect, do you come from the Moon? You hunt witches, for Heaven's sake! You should have seen one or two…still swinging against the wind up on the hill – her accusation warns me slightly, however I catch a hint of infinite sadness in her voice.
Her expression has hardened.
She suffers.
I worry I might have offended her again.
- Please don't leave now. I really nedd your help. – I propose, but I see her get up and walk towards the wooden fence.
Without touching her, but almost running after her, I try to make her understand how disappointed I am about her leaving.
- What kind o help – She asks without turning back.
- Knowing and questioning those who are involved in this. If you could help I'd be grateful – I propose sincerely – I need help, please don't leave me this way. – I insist.
- Who do you want to speak to? Do you hold any suspects? Any other accusations? – God forgives me, I may have made her curious, as much as she has made me?
- Not at all, I am only looking for the truth. But I need to understand some things. – I ask, hoping.
Scullee walks back towards me, she looks at me modestly.
- Not today. We will meet here, tomorrow, at the same time. When everyone else is at the House set to destroy someone else. I will take you to my mother's house. To understand. To know. Today, however, please go to the bay, ask for Melvin Frohikee and Ringed Langly, they will be able to help. – She leaves me, without any further word.
She helped me, with the names of two people, whom I am immediately going to look for.
The reason behind her choice remains obscure, but for the moment it is enough to know where to go, to the bay.
For the moment.
We walk towards different directions.
I turn my face towards her only once, only to catch a glimpse of the back of her neck, uncovered from underneath the dark cap, as she looks down to avoid the sun in her eyes.
The air is now hot, the fog has arrived, announcing the proximity of sunset.
Far away, the waves of the sea keep me compay..
What a weird place, Salem, I say to myself, and my thoughts go beyond the boundaries of the houses:
In the east the Village, made up of farms and fields , The Town in the west, where people fish and trade with the rest of the Americas and of the old world. While dust and stones begin to cover my black leather shoes, I try to imagine what it would feel like to be one of them, and not a foreigner, but then I realize: had I been leaving here, I would have already realized that we are just accusing the women…maybe in a factious way? Could the accusation be sectarian too?
Why are all the alleged witch from the Town, until now, or from the periphery of the community?
The strong smell of freshly fished sea food invades my nostrills, suggesting me even before noticing, that I am quite close to the port.
Some sailors, some fishermen, a boat and the Royal Navy Soldiers governing the biggest ship, the submerged confusion of a port that has to survive.
I step closer to the bench that separates the boats floating on the soft low waves crushing slowly and calmly.
I approach a short man whose eyes appear divergent and whose skin appears to have been marked by too much sun. I ask him if he can help me and I introduce myself. He's sitting by, trying to amend a broken net, on a bunch of dried ropes.
He raises his head and asks with a needle in his hand
- What could a pricker possibly want from Melvin? – he winks at a friend, tall thin and blond, who was adjusting the contents of some baskets, on a boat nearby.
- I was sent here by kate Scullee, she told me…- I try to say, and him, almost smiling replies
- It's okay. I am Melving, and this is Ringed.. Ask whatever you want.. – the smallest man admits, shaking my hand, leaving the ropes to fall besides his feet, as he gets up.
As I open my conversation I explain that I need tools and men to excavate.
They propose themselves as helpers.
- if that's okay for you, when could you come to help? I would need you as guides.. the fact that you are not there…- I point at the tribunal with my finger and they nod at each other.
- Forget that place. We have other things to think about. You decide when.- Frohikee accepts.
- Are you sure that you have all the authorizations you need? If you didn't…it would be the same, we can get to anywhere you want. – the blond one says, after listening to me with a great deal of attention.
- Kate sends him, Ringed, donàt worry. This is all that matters – Frohikee suggests him.
I quickly organize everything with them and go back to my room, to the documents that have been given to me in the morning.

Xxx

Some hours later.

A woman's name, accuses od necromancy, particularly hits me, after a deep reading of the documents.
' Melissa Scullee is accused and suspected of perpetrating witchcraft, against all rules of the Statute, in this case we need to intervene:
In the name of their Majesties, King William and Queen Mary, we will imprison and trial Melissa Scullee; we will keep her in custody until the Law has tried her and judged her..
Salem Village,
May 1st, on the 4th year of our Royal Majesties William and Mary, anno domini 1692'

X Salem I

2008-11-07T07:03:00.000-08:00

Title:X-Salem
Author:Anasilv
Disclaimers: copyright by FOX and CC.
Rating:4all
Genre:AU,case file, little shipper,M&SR
Summary: Massachussets 1692:the witches’s trials
Notes:. The ‘notorius’ names have been intentionally vary,to adapt its at the age.
Thanks:TO ELYSA ,THE GREAT TRASLATOR!!!
2004/2007
Salem,MA
June 1692
08:12 p.m.
House of the Gatherings*

- Now that Saltonstall has given up, do you think we should call up another judge?- William Sthoughton asked in a rough voice, massaging the bridge of his nose, looking up from his documents.
- Deputy Governor…we thought that…maybe it would have been better to contact a pricker* instead…- Peter Segeant attempted, in his nasal voice, knowing very well that at that stage, maybe the presence of an expert could not help them much in deciding the fate of the defendants.
However it would have been a futher guarantee that it was a serious matter, to have an actual expert in witchcraft in Salem.
- Are you thinking of anybody in particular? – the deputy Governor asked him again.
- Yes…I would say so.. Before leaving, Corwin mentioned a name…. It seems that this was a close friend of Cotton Mather's, they must have studied together.. – Seargent rummaged through the documents on the table which had just been approved by the members of the Jury. He reached out, with a reassuring look, to one particular document containing a name.
- Deputy Governor, here is the name…- he raised the yellow piece of paper in a convinced matter, towards the elderly man.
Sthoughton gripped it firmly, and frowning as he was reading, he did believe they had made a good choice, however, the man did not speak out about his beliefs.
- Peter, if all the members of the Jury agree, under the law of the Omnipotent, send a messenger to Boston, with news of the convocation.- he asserted.
- We should really sign it, at least 3 of us as members of the Tribunal…- his shy interlocutor reminded him.
- Fine. Ask John Hathorne, I believe he might still be in the other room.- And with this he stood up. – You will find me in our accommodations. Please do notify me as soon as you have any news.- he spat out the tobacco he had been chewing till breaking its big grains.

The light of the candles, suspended on the hanging lamp, shone upon him and conferred him the sense of authority which was so important to him.
His age and his experience suggested him that this was not going to be easy nor short.
However he knew that they had to be inflexible and ruthless.
Saltonstall's abstention to vote had surely surprised him. It shed doubt upon all the work of the persecution. They could not afford to be weak or insecure, not at that point.
The night was beginning to fall upon the village, he adjusted his hat on the wig, in a protective manner.
He begun to walk towards what was one the tavern, owned exactly by the very first woman who had been condemned to death. After her death, the tavern was given to Samuel Woulters, who had turned it into the headquarters for the members of the Court of the Oyer and Terminer.
Many of them came from Boston, or Arden, and, regardless of the considerate distance with the capital city, they had agreed on settling down there.
Some prisoners would have ended up in Boston, because Salem's prisons were not enough, they would have been properly escorted by the governor's guards. Their number was destined to grow with each prosecution.
Too many prisoners at the bar, too much work for them to postpone it, going back and forth.
Too many accusations, too many young ladies to be saved from the Black Evil.
The silence of the dark and low houses with square and rigid roofs wrapped him.
His mind was filled up once again with Abigail's screams, with the irony in Bishop's look. How much contrast, under the stars that God had created, how much evil, how much discomfort.
It had to be eradicated. And they knew how.
They were the colonizers of these western countries, and nobody, not even Lucifer, could claim them back.
He was ready to do anything in his power to keep on dominate them, in the name of the Puritan Community.
He would have not let a tepid person such as Saltonsall ruin or be an obstacle to his path of purification.
Some days after
10:45 a.m.

I have accepted the task given to me by the Deputy Governor.
I have just left my horse on the road to the tavern, after travelling for sixteen miles, and all I could think was what I was going to face.
I know the Judges are inflexible, but I wonder still, what could be the use of remembering me?
Some of the guilty have already been judged..
Could my work be used for other prosecutions?
I am going to meet wit the members of the Jury to find out what my task is really about.
The village seems naked: The House of the Gatherings, small houses sinisterly allocated around a big empty lay of barren land.
Paths half covered by summer grass.
The young pines try to hide some houses.
The gossips I hear in Boston aren't the best, but I can't base myself on gossips to be right.
The village seems to be deserted, when I pass through it, I think they might all be in the House , waiting for this morning's trial.
The horses were still tied to the carts, with long chains for the prisoners, they had been there before me, but I have not met anyone yet.
Some soldiers are lazying and playing around, I ask them the road to the tavern, where I know the headquarters are.
I look up, beyond the river, at what everyone calls 'the Hill of the witches'.
A simple hill, quite far from any house, which those people have chosen to be the place where the execution takes place.
I am way too far and way too low, but I can see some black pieces of cloths waving with the wind, in the clear and bright light of the morning, amongst the tree tops of the hill.
I knock at the entrance door of what I believe is the cabinet for the meetings of the Court, to what I understand was a separate building from the tavern with an independent entrance.
I am asked to come in. I breathe, filling up my lungs with wet tobacco-smelling air.
Sitting in circle, stand 8 men of different age, at a low table.
The windows are open, a sign that the hot season is about to arrive.
The morning light shines upon their faces, tired and wrinkled, under the white whigs.
Their pride, their power reaches me but I feel immune to it.
In the name of God, they have been chose to assist as judges to this trial, amongst the most resolute and old members of the community, to me however they are still too serious, too rigid, always trying to control us..
In front of their eyes there are papers and documents…
- And you are Foxcroft Moulder, the pricker, I imagine. – one of them says to me quite coldly, sanding up and shaking my hand. – My name is Samuel Sewall, let me introduce you to my colleagues. To your right, William Stoughton, Bartholomew Gedney, Peter Sergeant, Wait Still Winthrop, John Richards, John Hathorne, and Jonathan Corwin. You stand before the oyer. – I stay standing respectfully, as I finish my round of hand shaking.
I could as well not distinguish them from one another, so much they look alike in their expressions, in their gestures.
They look petrified in their white faith.
- We are aware of your preparation, you are friends with Mather Jr – Gedney sighs, moving uncomfortably on his chair..
- Thank you. We studied together in England.- I explain.
- Are you already a priest Mr Moulder? It is our usual procedure, to evaluate your stidy.- Corwin asks, without even looking at me.
-No, sir. And I don't intent to become one..- I know this will not get their sympathy, but I can't help it.
- Your father.. does he still work for the Governor of Boston?- This time it si the Deputy Governor asking.
- Yes, Mr Stoughton, he sends his greetings..-
I have known this man since my youth and I do not trust people my father trusted once upon a time.
I know they are ready to ask me something, so I wait.
- Please sit down.- I accept the invitation by Seargent, taking my seat on a dark oak stool with short round legs.
- We have chosen you for your fame...alongside your studies. We are now in the process of going through with the trial, but if you could help us understand what Satan has done and is still doing with your investigations… for this village has been abandoned by Grace…we would have more elements…- the Deputy Governor explains, looking straight into my eyes.
His straightforwardness, the strength in his eyes, the belief I can read in them, they barely impress me.
- I am here to carry out my duties, gentlemen, I believe my work will be useful to you and to the Omnipotent…- I declare surely.
- You will investigate the events and the circumstances which have emerged from the interrogations, we want a precise picture of the acts of witchcraft which have taken place in Salem…- Stoughton continues, this time with a solemn tone.
His eyes close, almost disappearing amongst the wrinkles in his face.
- You will have a lodging here in Salem, and you will be paid by the Government. Should you need any information on the accused, you can use the lists written by Reverend Parris, and some other documents which have already been gathered… here…- Wnthrop gets up and hands me a folder.
I look at it, for an instant, opening it, the piece of dark cotton that holds the wax flips open, showing the documents of the first trials, already concluded.
I start to under stand that maybe my presence here could not be of any use, however, I want to do something.
While I read, I feel the need of asking for explanations.
- Gentlemen, I will read what you have so trustingly given to me, but I am going to need to know some details… I will have to procede with some territorial and cadastral investigation. – I try to explain
- - Mr Moulder, you can start today! Do confirm to us if in Salem there are witches! Do anything in your power! – Sewall erupts.
Agitation runs as a malevolent breeze amongst us.
I can perceive their hostility, they don't look at me as an ally, only as a dangerous threat to their authority.
To their Truth..
At the same time, me and them…. We both know how much i could help here.
- Calm down, we cannot base ourself only on Mr Moulder's researches, we have a trial to take forward… We have a number of witnesses, so, gentlemen, I am asking to leave his place and to join the Tribunal… Mr Moulder, you will see us at sunset, every two days, starting from today. You can go and consult Parris's documents whenever you want, even today. Feel free to do your research. Contact whoever you wish to in the village and in town. Speak to whoever you want to. – with this guarantee, the Deputy Governor concluses his exposition, which did not explain much more than before.I see them getting up one by one, taking a serious look on their faces and I say my goodbyes with a nod of my head and I move to make some room for them to exit the space one by one, in silence.XxxxSome hours laterON the other side of the village the trials against three more witchescontinued.I have a clear cronology of the events as they occurred in my documents.The very first ritual quoted strikes me immediately, the very one that broughtthe little Parris to the status of ' possessed'.Hours pass and it gets harder for me to read.Bishop, right from the start, declared herself innocent, although se was wearinglace clothing..William Stacey probably needed more than 3 pence for his work.And Reverend Hale accused her of not going to church on sundays.I have a break to eat some of the way too spiced pudding they served me a littlewhile ago.And what about the Shattucks? I wonder again about what they said, for the thirdtime.As for the witchcraft acts against her, still not many are here.Until now at least.The only exception may be the night sightings, all referred to in the documentswhich i'm flipping through, with names and dates I try to stick to my mind.Miss Sheldon is the only one who quotes that Miss Bishop held a Satanic bookwith her, when she appeared to her with other figures, later recognized asCorey and the Black Man.The latter, in the second sighting, brought her a little black pig, whichapparently suckled on a nipple.Elizabeth Balch and Abigain Waldon, instead, accused miss Bishop of profusingspells near the river, of having seen her several times invoking the Devil tosend him to their houses, of being a bad wife as much as being a bad widow.They suspected her, then, even of murdering her husband, God bless him.I call the boy and as him to take me to my room, on the ground floor.We cross the hallway of the tavern, and Rober Woulters looks totallyemotionless.He moves away, giving some space for me to move through the door, to enterfinally the modest room, with a bed, a desk, and a chair.One marmoreal fireplace and some candles on a shelf.As he leaves my baggage on the floor, I ask him- Why have you not gone to see the trials – I undo the buttons of my blackjacket, very much useful as I was riding here, a lot less as I was studyinghere.The window of my room shows a view of the hallway we walked through on the way.Beyond that, on the left I can see the stable where I left my horse.- Sir...the witches would be there, what if they look at me and bewitch me too?My father would lose this place!- he smiles like an idiot.- Please don't forget to bring water to my horse later. Do you know the girls?-I continue, sitting on the bed as he helps me taking off the big boots. – Anyof them went to the same school as you?- i feel relieved as I walk around nowwith my white shirt loose oh my hips, I wash my face and neck in the whitebasin. – bring me some more candles please, I will need them – I can alreadyforsee the long sleepless nights.He scratches his head and pretends to be thinking, as he dropps my shoes on thefloor.- Yes, Sir, I used to follow Rev Parris' lessons with Mary Walcott and AbigailWilliams. They are not witches are they Sir?- he asks frightened.- I don't know, Robert, I really don't. Do you think I'll find anyone in town?I'd like to take a look at the territory aside from concentratin on thedocuments. I'll need men to help me dig, and look for evidence.-- I don't know, Sir, they are all at the House.. Don't worry your horse willneiter suffer from hunger nor thirst!- and he leaves me alone, closing the door behind his back.

Celebrating the second season of Californication

2008-09-08T07:18:00.000-07:00

here,what I thought about the women in Californication s1
Hank’s women season 1
Karen: she is the Romantic, Ideal Partner : she's smart,sweet,indipendent and beautiful.In the past she loved him,but also betrayed him.A bless man is an angry man…but he keeps on loving her,because she's his Muse,he wrote for her,only for her eyes…She's the Mother of their daughter.But he did not marry her.Is he maybe scared by her perfection? Like some man,does he know the real importance of a woman only when she leaves him?But Karen is the Dream Regretted Girl, he MUST go to recover her...but now she pretends to don't love him. Only in the final, she will disclose her real feelings,running away with him ,on the white horse's modern version -the Porshe- abandoning Bill who is too simple for her.She is the Princess of the fairy-tale:she's perfect,she's intangible (but not inviolable: she is full of mercy when she decide to make love with Hank ,after his father dead).And her intangibily in a world of women totally accessibles makes her the true challenge for Hank.The seducer loves even more unavailable woman.In the game of love,Karen is the purpouse of a lifetime.And she is also the icy nun,in the second Hank's dream,where she’s totally forbidden to him, totally untouchable.She belong to another man.In the Hank's ES, she's a spooky figure,under Bill's evil influence that represents older rules of morality.Hank also doesn't respect that rules and Karen's freedom will be do the same.
Becca: she is the future and the happy past too.She is the family union that comes back for Hank.She figures out the Virgin,the little girl to protect, to care,to drive in the streets of life and to huge.Hank goes to save her from the drug party, lifting her into his arms -like an ancient knight with his maid- and carries her out.Hank talks with her about all,because she’s clever,she understands (with love) the fallible father.She will love him forever:he doesn’t disappoint her,maybe just for a short time.She will be for ever at his side.
Mother : in his father's words she was the Loving Forgiver,the Martyr. She forgive father’s sex adventures ,tortured by guilt sense;never ready to having sex with her husband.Another untouchable woman.But she was the one who encouraged Hank to dreaming, like Karen in NY,at the beginning of their love story.Mum was the first fan of him.For a young boy is a great thing have a mother as a supporter.She was proud of her kid: he was the perfect man in her life,because he was not a man (not yet a macho,a womanizer) but just a boy,her boy.He was a compensation of her husband.Sad for her, *old* Hank is worse than his father.
Sisters: Meredith imagined (rightly) that Hank had sisters. With their help, he learned a lot things about girls.He were good with them. Maybe too good.What it does mean??Now they are far away: in the past they were good sisters,maybe they became like friends.Did they represented a previous "dress rehearsal" for Karen and Becca in the Hank’s feeling training?
Heater/dream’s Nun: she is Hank’s first woman in the show.She is both the nun on dream and the real married woman on bed.Does it means maybe that every unavailable woman will become available?In my opinion,she is more than this.She is the first woman to wish(the mother,in Freud’s theory about Aedipus complex),that situation rises up rage from her betrayed husband (the father),who breaks Hank’s Porshe light (on son‘s fantasy, the father castrates him,because he have sex with his mother,and on ES’s language this is like blinding,to take away the light).Brooke Banner:she is the Blonde Bimbo,a porno actress, she dates Hank,but she is totally fake.She is a plastic surgery freack,and doesn’t enjoy sex...for her it's a job.She shows herself like a loser,worried only of her phisical look ,unable to enjoy her life.She is totally apparence.Hank prefers to watch her in movie rather live.Better than life,the porno movies are very succesful for a man who could got every woman in L.A.Sonja: she‘s Scientology follower,and joke’s Hank lighting their experience: “Well, I'd be lying if I said I never wondered what it might be like to violate a Scientologist”. Holy Woman becomes available.This is fun for Hank.Make sex is always funny,but with her is also a profanity,or almost…
Meredith: she is a "Nice girl",that kind of girl friends want Hank to meet: a new Karen.The next, maybe…He is fed up at the first date,he hates her because is a blind date.Or maybe because is she a nice girl?A woman who have an opinion about the movie from his novel is a danger?He humiliates her,but when he meets her again,he apologies for his behaviour and he receives the same treatment from her: now is Meredith who profiles him,but with more kindness.They have sex,and when she going to left him,he ask her a second date,a *real* date.Hank has discovered a fellow woman, clever and witty.She becomes a friend of him,she talks about her relationship with a married man...and Hank stoles a dog for her.At the beginning, he doesn’t admite how good is to talk with her,and then he agrees to escort her at the charity party.There,Hank is a gentlemen:he talks with the married man and says him to leave alone Meredith.She begin to ask him more,and he accepts this.He want to protect her,but Meredith makes a mistake with him:he ask him if he loves her.Bad move.She is not Karen:Hank goes to defense himself and does it chatting at a public radio against people who use the Net to become idiots(Meredith use a tipical web expression).She finally leaves him for that,and she knows and say him that he hates himself, and every woman he likes is automatically a idiot.Her analisys about him and his feelings is exact.She is the Real Woman who scares men,with all her contradictions and feelings.
Sandy: she is another woman who Hank stoles from another man, just to inflict on destroying director a simple vengeance.She becomes a Revenge Object;she is naked on Hank’s bed when Becca goes his home.She is a shame. And Hank doesn’t know how "use" her, after the revenge.She was just remebered with obscene words,when Carl fights with him in the bookstore,then she becomes a mean to injurie the enemy.But Hank will pay the conseguence of his treatment.Surfer Girl,Sales Professional & Hot Woman:Hank doesn’t know their name...they are Unknow Girls: a perfect "zipless fuck"(do you remember Erika Jong and ‘Fears to flying’?).In the men’s ideal word,they are Easy Girls,without troubles,totally availables.Here nobody have feeling involvements,no romantic dates.Just a fuck.The greatest men’s dream…
Marcia:Hank chat about sex&love with her;sometimes she is his Super Ego:ready to drive him again to Karen with true advice,and also ready to blame him severely on Meredith‘s affaire.She is married with Charlie -his best friend- and she is Karen’s best friend.At least,she’s the Friend, a woman who can say the truth and is ready to give him her support.
Dani:she is almost ignorated from Hank,he looks at her like a danger,a danger for his friend.She is the Crazy Girl,able to ruin every male(married) life,she and -her-piercing are good only for dirty alone fantasies ...
Mia: in accord with Rosemary Neill -yes- Mia is "Lolita … the schoolgirl who is sexually precocious and in control, especially with boyfriends who shares roughly the same birth dates as her dad."But why men like *that* kind of girl?She’s very young,she is available,she’s like a "wake up" almost virgin.In men’s dream ,she is sexually free,and she knows how to make a man happy.Is this real?NEVER!16 years old girl is scared from men,but her bravery hides her fears about sex and life.And Hank is a Mia’s victim,in a positive way.He really thinks she is not under age of sexual consens,and when he knows the truth about her age,he is terrified,and not just for legal difficulty.He knows she is unprotected and he doesn’t take undue vantage: Mia becomes Becca,her figure skim incest.Hank goes to rescue her from her evil professor,like he does for Becca at the drug party.The are equal.Mia is the real victim,maybe falls in love with Hank...poor little girl.But…She is also the Mistress,the woman who can punish him,the girl who is not only sweet. She scares him,so Hank is now afraid another woman can punchs him like Mia.Now he knows sex is a little danger…or just her punch is an erotic game from a little -too little- girl?She is a nigthmare…
Beatrice: the Prostitute,a woman who cannot says him "no".Never.The woman that will be avaliable forever.With Sonia,they are two sides of woman:consecrated and rejected.Angel and Devil,but sexually available both.What a victory for Ego’s men!
Laura: She’s a former lover,who Hank didn’t call after their first date.She’s is angry with him, but also…another men’s dream is a menage à trois,but only in bedroom. A woman totally ready to two guys,two very best friends.This situation emerges in numerous eterosexual males porno movie, but… that is a hiddenn, latent, homoerotic fantasies: the Girl Between 2 male friends is ever a mean,a media to them.Her body becomes a resource to them that now can be together, even not *totally*.Through her,they will be finally virtual "lovers".Don’t forget that Laura is a boxer,a girl who acts like a boy…

Dani:she is almost ignorated from Hank,he looks at her like a danger,a danger for his friend.She is the Crazy Girl,able to ruin every male(married) life,she and -her-piercing are good only for dirty alone fantasies ...

Dani:she is almost ignorated from Hank,he looks at her like a danger,a danger for his friend.She is the Crazy Girl,able to ruin every male(married) life,she and -her-piercing are good only for dirty alone fantasies ...

They had good time with Hank…lucky girls part X

2008-05-01T07:06:00.000-07:00

Beatrice: the Prostitute,a woman who cannot says him "no".Never.The woman that will be avaliable forever.
With Sonia,they are two sides of woman:consecrated and rejected.
Angel and Devil,but sexually available both.What a victory for Ego’s men!

Laura: She’s a former lover,who Hank didn’t call after their first date.She’s is angry with him, but also…another men’s dream is a menage à trois,but only in bedroom. A woman totally ready to two guys,two very best friends.
This situation emerges in numerous eterosexual males porno movie, but… that is a hiddenn, latent, homoerotic fantasies: the Girl Between 2 male friends is ever a mean,a media to them.
Her body becomes a resource to them that now can be together, even not *totally*.
Through her,they will be finally virtual "lovers".
Don’t forget that Laura is a boxer,a girl who acts like a boy…

They had good time with hank…lucky girls part IX

2008-04-26T09:19:00.000-07:00

Mia: in accord with Rosemary Neill -yes- Mia is "Lolita … the schoolgirl who is sexually precocious and in control, especially with boyfriends who shares roughly the same birth dates as her dad."
But why men like *that* kind of girl?
She’s very young,she is available,she’s like a "wake up" almost virgin.
In men’s dream ,she is sexually free,and she knows how to make a man happy.
Is this real?
NEVER!
16 years old girl is scared from men,but her bravery hides her fears about sex and life.
And Hank is a Mia’s victim,in a positive way.
He really thinks she is not under age of sexual consens,and when he knows the truth about her age,he is terrified,and not just for legal difficulty.
He knows she is unprotected and he doesn’t take undue vantage: Mia becomes Becca,her figure skim incest.
Hank goes to rescue her from her evil professor,like he does for Becca at the drug party.
The are equal.
Mia is the real victim,maybe falls in love with Hank...poor little girl.
But…
She is also the Mistress,the woman who can punish him,the girl who is not only sweet.
She scares him,so Hank is now afraid another woman can punchs him like Mia.
Now he knows sex is a little danger…or just her punch is an erotic game from a little -too little- girl?
She is a nigthmare…

They had good time with Hank…lucky girls part VIII

2008-04-19T08:24:00.000-07:00

Marcia:Hank chat about sex&love with her;sometimes she is his Super Ego:ready to drive him again to Karen with true advice,and also ready to blame him severely on Meredith‘s affaire.
She is married with Charlie -his best friend- and she is Karen’s best friend.
At least,she’s the Friend, a woman who can say the truth and is ready to give him her support.

Dani:she is almost ignorated from Hank,he looks at her like a danger,a danger for his friend.
She is the Crazy Girl,able to ruin every male(married) life,she and -her-piercing are good only for dirty alone fantasies ...

They had good time with hank…lucky girls part VII

2008-04-10T09:07:00.001-07:00

Sandy: she is another woman who Hank stoles from another man, just to inflict on destroying director a simple vengeance.
She becomes a Revenge Object;she is naked on Hank’s bed when Becca goes his home.
She is a shame. And Hank doesn’t know how "use" her, after the revenge.
She was just remebered with obscene words,when Carl fights with him in the bookstore,then she becomes a mean to injurie the enemy.
But Hank will pay the conseguence of his treatment.

Surfer Girl,Sales Professional & Hot Woman:Hank doesn’t know their name...they are Unknow Girls: a perfect "zipless fuck"(do you remember Erika Jong and ‘Fears to flying’?).
In the men’s ideal word,they are Easy Girls,without troubles,totally availables.
Here nobody have feeling involvements,no romantic dates.Just a fuck.
The greatest men’s dream…

They had a good time with Hank…Lucky girls part VI

2008-04-03T08:49:00.000-07:00

Meredith: she is a "Nice girl",that kind of girl friends want Hank to meet: a new Karen.The next, maybe…
He is fed up at the first date,he hates her because is a blind date.Or maybe because is she a nice girl?
A woman who have an opinion about the movie from his novel is a danger?
He humiliates her,but when he meets her again,he apologies for his behaviour and he receives the same treatment from her: now is Meredith who profiles him,but with more kindness.
They have sex,and when she going to left him,he ask her a second date,a *real* date.
Hank has discovered a fellow woman, clever and witty.
She becomes a friend of him,she talks about her relationship with a married man...and Hank stoles a dog for her.
At the beginning, he doesn’t admite how good is to talk with her,and then he agrees to escort her at the charity party.
There,Hank is a gentlemen:he talks with the married man and says him to leave alone Meredith.
She begin to ask him more,and he accepts this.
He want to protect her,but Meredith makes a mistake with him:he ask him if he loves her.Bad move.
She is not Karen:Hank goes to defense himself and does it chatting at a public radio against people who use the Net to become idiots(Meredith use a tipical web expression).
She finally leaves him for that,and she knows and say him that he hates himself, and every woman he likes is automatically a idiot.
Her analisys about him and his feelings is exact.
She is the Real Woman who scares men,with all her contradictions and feelings.

(Pic courtesy by Showtime)

They had a good time with Hank…Lucky girls part V

2008-03-29T10:13:00.000-07:00

Heater/dream’s Nun: she is Hank’s first woman in the show.
She is both the nun on dream and the real married woman on bed.
Does it means maybe that every unavailable woman will become available?
In my opinion,she is more than this.
She is the first woman to wish(the mother,in Freud’s theory about Aedipus complex),that situation rises up rage from her betrayed husband (the father),who breaks Hank’s Porshe light (on son‘s fantasy, the father castrates him,because he have sex with his mother,and on ES’s language this is like blinding,to take away the light).

Brooke Banner:she is the Blonde Bimbo,a porno actress, she dates Hank,but she is totally fake.
She is a plastic surgery freack,and doesn’t enjoy sex...for her it's a job.
She shows herself like a loser,worried only of her phisical look ,unable to enjoy her life.
She is totally apparence.Hank prefers to watch her in movie rather live.
Better than life,the porno movies are very succesful for a man who could got every woman in L.A.

Sonja: she‘s Scientology follower,and joke’s Hank lighting their experience: “Well, I'd be lying if I said I never wondered what it might be like to violate a Scientologist”.
Holy Woman becomes available.This is fun for Hank.
Make sex is always funny,but with her is also a profanity,or almost…

They had a good time with Hank…Lucky girls part IV

2008-03-22T08:50:00.000-07:00

Mother: in his father's words she was the Loving Forgiver,the Martyr. She forgive father’s sex adventures ,tortured by guilt sense;never ready to having sex with her husband.
Another untouchable woman.
But she was the one who encouraged Hank to dreaming, like Karen in NY,at the beginning of their love story.
Mum was the first fan of him.For a young boy is a great thing have a mother as a supporter.
She was proud of her kid: he was the perfect man in her life,because he was not a man (not yet a macho,a womanizer) but just a boy,her boy.
He was a compensation of her husband.
Sad for her, *old* Hank is worse than his father.

Courtesy of Showtime

Sisters: Meredith imagined (rightly) that Hank had sisters. With their help, he learned a lot things about girls.
He were good with them. Maybe too good.
What it does mean??Now they are far away: in the past they were good sisters,maybe they became like friends.
Did they represented a previous "dress rehearsal" for Karen and Becca in the Hank’s feeling training?

Green is better...

2008-03-17T08:25:00.000-07:00

Happy St.Patrick's day to all ddwatchers!!!
And thanks to my dear friend Mim for this beautiful pic!
http://bobinstitute.org/index.htm#bodob

They had a good time with Hank…Lucky girls III

2008-03-14T08:32:00.000-07:00

Becca: she is the future and the happy past too.She is the family union that comes back for Hank.
She figures out the Virgin,the little girl to protect, to care,to drive in the streets of life and to huge.
Hank goes to save her from the drug party, lifting her into his arms -like an ancient knight with his maid- and carries her out.
Hank talks with her about all,because she’s clever,she understands (with love) the fallible father.
She will love him forever:he doesn’t disappoint her,maybe just for a short time.
She will be for ever at his side.

They had a good time with Hank…Lucky girls,part II

2008-03-07T23:03:00.000-08:00

(Courtesy by Showtime)

Karen: she is the Romantic, Ideal Partner : she's smart,sweet,indipendent and beautiful.
In the past she loved him,but also betrayed him.
A bless man is an angry man…but he keeps on loving her,because she's his Muse,he wrote for her,only for her eyes…She's the Mother of their daughter.
But he did not marry her.Is he maybe scared by her perfection? Like some man,does he know the real importance of a woman only when she leaves him?
But Karen is the Dream Regretted Girl, he MUST go to recover her...but now she pretends to don't love him. Only in the final, she will disclose her real feelings,
running away with him ,on the white horse's modern version -the Porshe- abandoning Bill who is too simple for her.
She is the Princess of the fairy-tale:she's perfect,she's intangible (but not inviolable: she is full of mercy when she decide to make love with Hank ,after his father dead).
And her intangibily in a world of women totally accessibles makes her the true challenge for Hank.
The seducer loves even more unavailable woman.
In the game of love,Karen is the purpouse of a lifetime.
And she is also the icy nun,in the second Hank's dream,where she’s totally forbidden to him, totally untouchable.She belong to another man.
In the Hank's ES, she's a spooky figure,under Bill's evil influence that represents older rules of morality.
Hank also doesn't respect that rules and Karen's freedom will be do the same.

Californication italian vignette

2008-03-06T07:42:00.000-08:00

DD, from Xfiles to Californication
Blonde says :"Is there intelligent life on other planets?"
DD says:"Certainly,there is NOT in my bed,now!"

(Thanks to Serial Tv and Fred, the author - www.edizioniscantabauchi.it-
All rights reserved.)

Mulder and his Anima part II

2008-02-10T07:51:00.003-08:00

Mulder and women

We have just few notices about Mulder’s sexual life: ome women, often with the same type of personality, come back in his memories and life.
These women abandoned -left him alone- with his X-files.
In order to theory of compulsion, if we consider it true, everyone of us always chooses the same type of partner, according to Parents figures. Mulder’s victim on himself.
Propensity to falling in love with women that he knows they will leave him for their work, with women who probably loved him but however haven’t uderstood him.
Strong women for a man who always tries to excel and prefer a difficult relationship rather than a quiet one.
Loving women with knowledge that they'll leave him alone is something natural in Mulder.
All said about the foregoing capter lets go down incest theme that’s in some ff.
Sam is not simply his sister, Sam is Mulder’s Anima.
But she will not be there for ever. A
nother female figure, by more approachable signs, will come in his life.

-Scully-

"This is your holy grail...
Scully,Gethsemane"

Scully comes in Mulder’s life and he, before every act, tells her all the story about Sam. T
his need seems symbolize his will to substitute the old figure of Anima by the new partner, and it seems build a pain wall between them.
How can he trust in a woman who’s placed next to him to discredit his work?
However he trusts in her, he understand the reason why she shoot him: it’s an affection demonstration; so she avoids to ruin his career (clearly it’s only a tv show!).
But she’s became yet an important figure for Mulder.
Time by time Scully will show she'll never leave him (even if this should mean the lost of her own relatives and her own life). Mulder can not defend himself, by humor and innuendo, from another cold and rational woman (but very prompt about him too) and he falls in love with her.
What does it happen to Mulder?
He simply finds in a real woman the signs of lost Anima, Sam; the difficult relationship just will make affection.
Let’s not forget that the relationship between Mulder and Sam was difficult. Scully is approachable a woman but not as partner: this is the obstacle that will made her so desirable to Mulder’s eyes, because she’s "forbidden"
When Scully was abducted the first time, Mulder reacts with imsomnia -that’s the first symptom showed when Sam was abducted too-.
This time he sinks into work (with Kristine is another compulsion, once again to find a woman connected to occult world).
When Scully comes back, Mulder handless her like a sister (sic!): he gives her a sportive video.
But in FTF Scully was kidnapped again and Mulder didn't wait for her return: he started to look for her, for his new Self -now adult- made completed by love finally risen.
The archetype palyed by Sam is finally sutituted by a positive female figure, now not yet far, but so accepted that he wants her always near to him.
Scully is a strong willed, ambitious woman (a real woman in career) but she decreases these features, that make her like Mulder’s other women, step by step, getting emotionally near Mulder.
Mulder understand it and he feels her like a "touchstone".
In "Demons" Mulder is near to suicide:the sense of guilty for his sister’s abduction is so strong but, in opposition to the normal effects of this drug, he doesn’t shot him and neither Scully.
Another attempt to not identify his Self with Sam has risen in his inconscious; in this way a new feeling to Scully can rise because Mulder begin to be free.
"Kill Switch" is an example like in "FPS": Scully saves his Anima from "other women" castration.
Separately, we can talk about the dream in "Amor fati".
Now we have to mention Mpxxx who has offered a beautiful renderiing of Mulder’s dream in Lezar’s forum, here copied:
When Diana is all around, M has an ambivalent behaviour. This dichotomy is created by need to feel somebody who assents him without too many questions. But this means a surrender which is symbolized by an unuseful dream where M gets evrythingh he would like to have but just sacrifying Scully. She’s his truth. The only one who never lay.
(Lezar’s forum – may 03 "Who’s scare of Diana Fowley?")
We confirm that. Mulder dreams all that to make up for, to imagine, to desire this: having as partner a woman (Fowley) who lets him to live "normally" (sic!).
But in this vision of serenity Scully appears(in full streinght) and opens the curtain and enlightens eyes to Mulder. A
nd this is the real desire symbolized in his dream.
A leader woman who is able to reveal truth of Mulder’s Self who always decided to be a trooper, just not a dying/sleeping man.
Isn't casually that Scully comes when he’s near to death.
His Anima is just coming back to his Ego. A fighting Anima, just not a passive one, because it resolves symbolically a really Mulder’s real disposition.
Finally: Mulder finds his real Self with and by Scully, with and by the woman he loves.

XXXXXX
C.G.Jung referencee:
(1968d [orig. pub. 1936]) "Concerning the Archetypes, with Special Reference to the Anima Concept." in The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, pp. 54-72 (Collected Works No. 9).
(1968b [orig. pub. 1934, revised 1954]) "Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious." in The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, pp. 3-41 (Collected Works No. 9).
(1959 [1951]) Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press (Collected Works No. 9).
JUNG LEXICON A Primer of Terms & Concepts by DARYL SHARP
Copyright ©1991 Daryl Sharp
All rights reserved.
The Jung Lexicon has been made available to The Jung Page through the generosity of its author, Jungian analyst, Daryl Sharp, publisher and general editor of Inner City Books.
Anima The anima is the archetype of life itself.["Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious," CW 9i, par. 66.]There is [in man] an imago not only of the mother but of the daughter, the sister, the beloved, the heavenly goddess, and the chthonic Baubo. Every mother and every beloved is forced to become the carrier and embodiment of this omnipresent and ageless image, which corresponds to the deepest reality in a man. It belongs to him, this perilous image of Woman; she stands for the loyalty which in the interests of life he must sometimes forego; she is the much needed compensation for the risks, struggles, sacrifices that all end in disappointment; she is the solace for all the bitterness of life. And, at the same time, she is the great illusionist, the seductress, who draws him into life with her Maya-and not only into life's reasonable and useful aspects, but into its frightful paradoxes and ambivalences where good and evil, success and ruin, hope and despair, counterbalance one another. Because she is his greatest danger she demands from a man his greatest, and if he has it in him she will receive it.[The Syzygy: Anima and Animus," CW 9ii, par. 24]
Self. The archetype of wholeness and the regulating center of the psyche; a transpersonal power that transcends the ego.

daily mood:inspired

Mulder and his Anima - part I

2008-02-10T07:49:00.001-08:00

(this is an extract from my "Mulder Project",a huge essay about Mulder that I'm writing since 2003)

-"I’m free..."
Mulder,Closure-

Mulder is only 12 years old when the mysterious disappearance of his younger sister, with very dark circumstaces, upsets domestic establishment of all his family.
To explain the younger sister figure, I used the Jungian theory of Syzygy (Divine Couple) that beholds the alchemic couple Brother-Sister too.
Sister, in some Balkan fairy tales, mysteriously disappears and her brother/hero starts to look for her.
According to psychoanalysis, the brother/hero is in search of the his Self, possibly made by a trasfert in the female figure that replaces the maternal figure, too weak to be considered as Anima in Mulder’s inconscious(Teena Mulder seems to have been too far from her sons.After the shock is more far from Fox, among barbiturics and depression).
Mulder, bereft of Sam, starts to look for her but, besides the obvious reason of a love between brother and sister, he looks for his deep to cut out a definite and autonomous figure.
Apparently Sam rises into the air,and so she goes away from the primordial, homely world, from the “indistinct of Mother”.

The same tale tell us that sister is held captive by the Old, who clearly recalls Spender Sr,who took away Sam by means of hypnosis. Mulder has to draw back the whole stuff from removed that has left just a remaining, sense of guilty, expressed by the great guilty to be survived to disappeared sister that really symbolizes two orders of guilty:
1)don't look for Self –2) don't rise like Self.
We can immagine Mulder as teenager and after as a very depressed boy.
Squashed by sense of guilty,it is possible that he doesn’t consider himself like active, useful: looking for Sam and finding her has became his profession.
Before his studies were addressed towards psychology cause of his desire to explain removed acts but always in the shadow of inconscious.
His profession is to inquire into paranormal, believing in it, but it involves to inquire into e and to grieve for crimes against children, like a compensation (if I resolve and jail the murderer, I resolve and jail Sam’s murderer and kidnapper), but also like masochist behaviour of infinite repetition of shock.

About "Paper hearts".
In his dream little girl who benigs on him to find her body, expresses him intuitive nature... typically who knows the Soul has related to occult and perception.
Even when Mulder meets Sam (presented again and again by Cancer man to affirm his own power on hero’s and his sister’s life and death) you can realize that these meetings just sharpen Mulder’s sense of guilty and repeat the shock of separation in his inconscious.
Mulder repeats again and again love between his sister and him by the X-files. If he will continue to look for her he will become Self, become complete.
Because if he will find his Anima, the male archetype of Self, he will be free from senses of guilty.
When Mulder knows that he’s the subject of aliens’ abduction, he goes on this path of recognizing of Self.
Believing this abduction, removing it, means starting a total formulation Self.
In "Sein und zeit" there is the solution to Mulder’s release from mother and from sister (biological mother by her siucide lets him to understand, alone, the abduction of the second female figyre in his life).
Then in "Closure" Mulder imagines to find Sam alive, in an idealized teen-age, in a suspended, unreachable but reconciled world.
And this is what Mulder is looking for: a perfect world, without pain, that would give back to past and to figures (connected to the time that’s definitively gone by), bliss, completeness, happyness he would like to come true for himself ando also for Sam.

"Fucking & Punching” ,aka Californication Pilot

2007-11-30T08:08:00.000-08:00

Author :BirDDer
Disclaimer : all materials are property of ShowtimeGenre:dirty vignette
Rating: missing scene, nc 17,Mia POV

Fall 2007

I never asked myself about God,but I always imagined He does not resamble my father.
When my mother died,he tried to cover me by the world,with things and bucks.
He ignore I have conserved a blooded bind I’ve stolen to her, before they carried her body out the room.
He has his business and I have my memories.
He thinks I’m still the same six years old little good rich girl, but I’m sixteen now.
Yes,I’m sixteen,I’m rich,and I want to fuck.
I still not have sex and I’m bored about this condition.
My friends talking only about how fucking with anybody,when a joint goes around.
And when Ely found out her mum’s vibrator,she used it ,then she tried to lend me,but I don’t agree that kind of gift. I’m in love with my left hand.
Boys are a strange category,but it doesn’t do without them.
They likes just blowjob,and it’s ok for me…Nobody has nerve to go forward…
But what about the men?
I recognize their dirty looks,special gifts to me,I’m starving to curiosity.
I’m not a stupid or a uninformed babe,I know about it more than other friends.
This never goes up with the boys…
In L.A. is easy to date,easy to fuck,easy to boring.
And I’m waiting for this kind of trouble.
That afternoon,I walked out,to the book shop.I wanted to read somethings about love,and I finally chose a book titled with hate.
And then,he appared.
Tall, desperatly charmant
A man,very old,but *the* man.The one.
The one who I imagined was able to fuck you until the death,your death.
I pretended to lost my self in reading,but I followed every step of him, looks or? clumsy attitude,repeating my mantra :’please please,come to me,come in me’.
I knew him.He was my writer and I was his reader.
Like a sad pavon,he became horny seeing someone who read his book, and easily he approched me.
All fault to my laught: I discovered the laught are the best invitation for a man.
Breath alchoolic,he believed I drawed him ,but I dismissed fastly his opinion.
A man found me,I struggled with that, and he won.Me.Wow.
After a little chat about bullshit and his very low self –esteem,his book and movie,he invited me at his place.I agreed.
I was no scared,no in panic,just glad.
I tought I was very pretty if a man,an adult man,wanted ME.
I could be able to seem very distant
And I did it.
My emotions were in trouble,I felt blank ,unsure and I asked my self WHAT I had to do…
Maybe would he did all?
Of course he did.
In chat time,I was lost in his powerful old body,his wrinkled face,and his muscular thigh under my hand maked me definitively wet.
On the road to his house,I wondered again how did it.
I ‘ll have sex with him?
And how?
My body would be ready?
Sex was the real stuff?
What about a dinner on light candles or a flowered date?
Was It just like a Palahniuk’s chapter ?
Now – this - shut up ??
I was confused for the speed of my choiche.
I never really made up my minds… could I really said *no* to him?
But,did I really wanted it?
I wanted..what?
I knew nothing or so about that.
About him.
Another little chat in the car got me able to hide my totally improvisation about the event.
It was so strange how I felt nervous, but brave.
I looked at him,his jaw ,his sad smile,his messy hair.
There was a challenge: I played with him,or was exactly on the contrary ?
When I found my bravery ?
Or maybe was it just curiosity ?
The lack of my cleverness would be noted?
I could to keep on my shameless for a while,but what if he uncovered the trick?
When he opened the front door of his apartment,I felt ,again, a sensation both nervous and joyful,like I was on the rollercoster,that time without hand’s mum .
The smell in was dizzy,maybe a joint.
The mess on the carpet,books,papers and vinile records got me a home‘s sensation.
With a smile, he indicated me the bathroom,and I went in.
When I shot the door,I started to laugh.
Incredible,that was incredible.
I dismissed the idea to wash me , maybe after…After,AFTER!?
Out there he was a man and I will fucked with him!Really …He will fucked me.
I checked my lipstick ,my hair and then I got out.
He smoked near the mirror,then he turned to me,and smiled again.
The soft light of the afternoon smoothed his figure.
I walked to him,and touching his arms.
He looked at me and dismissed the cigarette ,without a word he approched me,to start to kiss my neck,and I can smelled his inner scent.
The smoke of the sigarette was on all.
But a strong,hungry male’s smell was under that.
When his lips touched mine,I opened my mouth without fear.
His kiss was gentle,his blitzed breath filled my nose.
His hands went at my breasts,and he uncovered them with soft touch.
The kiss continued and he started to press my breast. Then my nipples.
I liked that,and I went ahead:I squeezed his zack.
At that moment,he took off to me to murmured.
-‘re looking forward,uhu?-
I smiled and he took down my dress and purple panties:I was naked in front of him and I tought to be too fat.
He ducked and started to licked me at south.
His hands roamed on my inners thighs,he was able …
I felt a smooted long heat against my cookie and then on my trigger ,and I blowed my mind.
And what if he asked to give him my head?
But at that moment,I had just pleasure and I didn’t mind anything.
He continued to use his hands,now on my ass.
I lifted up my left leg,and he nestled better in front of my pussy.
I could nearly opened my eyes to see his hair ,the last smoke from the cigarette on the nightstand.
That man could attend a lot of lesson ‘how to …’ about it?
Maybe he got a lot of homeworks…And what about my homeworks for tomorrow?
I remember just hot and wet.
Then he stopped,and started again ,that time with a finger evolution.
Pure delight.
When I came,I dug my nails on his scalp and I panted for a lot,looking at his face.
His mouth and chin were flusched and dripping wet,then he rose, licking his ringed finger that before was in me, pumping,looking up at me.
He lost me,and I went on his bed to undress him, his eyes on my bare body.
Then I took off my boots,and I approched him ,and I kissed his hairy chest,his nipples,that I understood he liked it ‘cos the strange noises of pleasure came out his troath,and his head fell back.
His skin was tanned and lightly flexible under my touch,his exposed body was a bizarre sighting to me.
His taste was ..I dunno…aged?
And then ,hello Mr.Beef,or Mr.BIG Beef.
With a shiver,I gave head to him.
I was an expert,but not with that size.
The little head pulsed purple and it was very hot.And hard ,what a funny thing…
After my first attempt ,he took my head with his hands and whispered.
-Just relax,it’s not a duty…-
I thought was better to stop,and I rose. He smiled and drow back to the bed,falling on his back.
-Come here,baby,-his tone was distant,like a ordinary call.
He said and I did.
Before,he took a troyan king size,and dressed himself with an absorbing ability .
When I was on top of him -with his hands on my waist- he rose my body on his dick and then I fell down,without coercion from him.
He ,with skill,embedded me .
The fire of pain struggled my entire body,I worried to bleed on him,but I did not look down.
My hands was narrow on his arms and I tried to hide my hurt, beating my lower lip.
He maybe thought I had my sweet pleasure,and he stimulated my trigger with his left thumb.
I smiled at him, confused by ache and a rising pleasure.
The big beef in me felt like a weapon ,covered by velvet,but fucking letal.
I wanna scream loud,and maybe I did,’cause he murmured something…
The tissue of my hole was deadly strained,but at every stroke it was better -and underneath my belly- I felt the strangest hot of my sexual life… rocking back and forth.
His moist pubic hair tickled my naked sex at every stroke,and the noise of the bodies was comic.
I felt his clammy balls against my B side.
What if I laugh?
I smelled scent of sweat ,latex and shameless.
We were like in a rodeo contest, struggling to win both.
I never closed my eyes.
My legs straddling his body,his features was peaceful and remote.Was he drunk?
Just a couple of time,he narrowed his forehead.
His breat was soft and I tried to stifle my yells and my sights.
His hands on my waist,he went up and down,up and down,his abdomen muscles at clear sight.
It was strong and strange….the feeling to have a something , a real dick in me,was weird and amazing,it was stiff and solid.
It held me.
My sex was on fire,I not understood what the hell happened down here.
The ritme was amusing,he was very great to keep it ,how long it could went on?
I felt blushed and I asked him.
- Are you gonna come?-and I really didn’t have a clue.
- I don't see why not…-and then,he stroked my neck and hair.
I realized that I must moved myself too.
It was easy to learn.
I tried to go up and down like him,and it worked.*That* went forward for a while.Our movements started to move a little bit faster, I thought to come again ,but was very unlike the other way.
My body came all entire ,I felt like a outburst in my belly ,the shudder was long and endless,the twinge very strong, few contractions and my mind went at a perfect nirvana. ..and I punched him in face.He looked confused but he didn’t lose the swing.
Then I punched him in the nose,and he came,I supposed.
Take that,you ,son of a bitch!
You violated me…and I liked the cure.
Like an escape,I lifted my self from him,the feeling of my pussy empty was a little bizarre,but I felt now comfortable and very ached.
I didn’t looked at him,or at any part of his wet body.
In the bathroom,I heard his laughts and I knew that he’ll never forget me.

end

daily mood:horny

Happy b-day Mulder!

2007-10-13T10:02:00.000-07:00

Sat 10\13\200710:13 pm

Biiip. You have no messages.
-Damn it! No one calls you when you need a little bit of company…

20 minutes later…

-(Uh boy...who is that?)...Ehy man, it’s saturday night…what are you doing here all alone?

- No questions ma’am. Tonight I wanna get drunk and don’t think to anything or anyone…so be quiet and take here a bottle of tequila.

-Ok...you’re the boss…but you should know I’m better than a psychoanalyst… maybe if you say what’s your problem I could suggest you a solution…

-Ouh...You are so kind,but I don’t think it exists a solution to my trouble…I’m a protagonist in a sci-fi series which gave me fame and fortune. They used to call me spooky…spooky Mulder…but now…It seems everyone forget me and my birthday because of a new *macho man*…ouh crap!I hate Hank Moody.

-What????Are you talking about *that* Hank Moody? Hank Moody of Californication?

-Do you know him?
- You are not serious! He is beautiful and so hot! I’m his biggest fan! take a look at that wall: I attached a poster...

-Look…he so dirrrty!

- Okkay, stop!!! I got it…

- Anyway…you was right before…if your trouble is called “Hank Moody” no one can help you. Hank Moody rules! But don’t worry, I wanna be gentle with you… Take all the bottle as gift for your b-day, Mr. Mulder

-Oh,thank you.I go away now...(Life is an endless shit…)

-Mulder,it's me.Where are you?

-Hi Scully...where I am?Where are *you*?Do you remember what happens today?

- Dunno and I don't have time to waste now!I'm at the FBI...you have to come here;Skinner want us for a case...

-Skinman want us?Does he ever go home?Okkai,I'm coming...

11.21 pm

FBI headquarter

-SURPRISE!!!! Happy Birthday Mulder!

- Ouh!!! you didn’t forget my b-day…thank you all folks!

02.00 AM
Mulder apartment

- Tell me Mulder…did you like the party?
- I liked it very much! Did you organize it?
- Yessss…who else?
- Scully Scully…you are always the best…

-I thought no one loved me because seemed all of you had forgotten my b-day…so I was becoming more paranoid than usual…I thought my fame was obscured by Hank Moody and his new *show*…but I was wrong…

-Ouh Mulder…I’ll never forget you! But... Hank Moody is so hot…can I turn on the tv? There’s Californication repeat now!!!

- No way!(life is an endless shit....)Cheers Scully.
- Cheers Mulder!

daily mood:melancholic

David Duchovny's resources

2007-09-29T04:18:00.000-07:00

before...

You can find it everywhere…in the supermarket, in the postal office, in the bank…but I’m sure you don’t know the real origin of this object. You could tell me: “It doesn’t need a genius to understand that -a take a number system- is made to avoid queue!” you’re right man…but you don’t know for *what* kind of queue it was created at the beginning.
Once upon a time there was a beautiful actor,named David Duchovny, who has played a role so much intriguing and hot that he began to have serious problems to live a normal life: he didn’t have no more privacy and whenever he went out his house he was attacked by every kind of human being who lived near his home…and Malibu…and California…and West coast (except “males concerned”, but this is another story I’ll tell you another day…) who wanted dating him.

Mr. Duchovny was nearly gone crazy, so to safe his life and mental health too, he decided to contrive a plan with which solve this weird situation. He built a portable “take a number system” and began to distributed tickets to everyone asked him a date, saying to stay calm and peaceful as long as the queue would arrive to that number. Then he hung a display on his shoulders so everyone could check when it’ll arrive own turn. And happily ever after.
This is a story of a man who is above all a mastermind: he wakes up everyday thinking “What’s the date today?” but instead of despair he still goes on and accepts yet new admirers.
Then if you are really interested in this I advise you to go to Malibu in great haste and pull back your ticket before the roll ends.

after...

Daily mood: ill

All About Bob -Part III

2007-09-28T06:21:00.000-07:00

Anyway… to see (sure, fine, whatever …maybe “see”…it’s a *little* bit exaggerate word in this show!) our heroes falling in love, the fans waited for seven long years…s-e-v-e-n- years…oh man…Jack Daniel’s took less time to became a whiskey… while it was used to scream to the miracle of Saint CC when one of them gave a kiss in forehead or touched a hand one another, so you could figure the happiness of Bob!
“I have to confess: I was thinking I wasted my time…I never saw me on the screen!! Chris sometimes used me in a few scenes, but I didn’t explain *why* then he always cut those on editing. In the long run I’ve accepted this situation and this hard role between the slot…ahem…agents […]anything but Cospiration and Consortium ….I’m the only one and the real hidden member of this series!”
He has been an actor with little striking and unfortunately we sometimes had a glimpse, but from the affective point of view Bob had not a difficult time in those years: “Much things in that period amused me and I had many dates too, but for respect towards my fans, who are so much sensitive on this argument, I prefer say: no comment...”
Its healthy holder, who doesn’t seem to possess equally Bob’s common sense, instead revealed all his conquests and so he being labelled like “sex addict”. He has dryly refuted, saying that news was a true joke and Bob was more adapted to answer at this kind of questions, but ours idol answered with a diplomat: “I would not save his ass anymore...”
But a tragedy waited silent for ours loved Bob.
In 1997 its life always changed when, probably infected from dangerous ‘Tea-ine’, its healthy holder decided to became serious and married Tea Leoni who after a while convinced him to move the XF production from Vancouver to L.A.
In that period Bob entered in the tunnel of depression: “my healthy holder didn’t have intention to listen to me. I’m not born for the monogamy… I was desperate! At the beginning I didn’t know what I’ll do… so I tried all the possibilities: they thought I was sick because I’ve made feint to take to me the anticipated holiday, but the bastards decided to revive me against my will used the blue pill”.
Today Bob continues to survive than live, attending with hope the day in which its healthy holder will recove from the bad influence of ‘Tea-ine’.
While, because it is a star system’s member, it tries to distract itself through photographic services, interviews, the personal column “Say it to Bob”, a fan club and its direct line with the more faithful admirers.
Even if it’s must difficult to suffer this familiar situation, Bob remains a hard type and it hold on to the adversities, because as it said to me one time: “In spite of everything, maybe there’s a hope...”

daily mood:relaxed

All About Bob -Part II

2007-09-20T05:58:00.000-07:00

At this point of the story it’s necessary a digression - on Bob’s request- to clarify one of the most difficult and dark point of its career.
The director David Lynch had offered them the role of detective Denise…but they had to became a trans. Bob immediately refused it, but David - who would accepted everything in order to appear some minute on the screen …uhm…how can I explain to you? Uhm...like performing in a film where the protagonist is a dog (ehy! Here they say he really made it!)- imposed his will on our hero, which sounded it like a true humiliation.
Bob and its hurt pride didn’t ever digest that insult: “I was bended against my will! No one frame was about me because I was covered by a weird tailleur which transformed me and my healthy holder like a Dennis Rodman with heels […] a very dishonour”. But Bob showed its big…charisma and decided to leave the sign in “Twin Peaks”.
How? Did you remember the end of this show? They finally discovered the identity of that evil spirit which caused the death of Laura Palmer and so many strange things in that country inhabited by losers/mad/liars/unkind/freaks- ( in short: aplaceinwhichyousurelywouldbringupyourkids) The TRUE PROTAGONIST, finally!
And what was his name? Yes yes, just Bob!!!
“When I commit myself to doing something” – as Bob confesses me- “I have an extraordinary power to persuade everyone. I don’t explain how I am successful in this. Sometimes it’s enough I raise the head just for a moment and people begin to listen to me”

It is believed, therefore, that this exchange of spite and pique marked the beginning of a crisis that has gone growing between Bob and DD through the years.
1992 was however a year full of engagements for Bob. It and its healthy holder appeared in several movies like “Chaplin” “Beethoven” (masterpieces, uhu?), “Red Shoes Diaries” and “Kalifornia”, all exhibitions with which they become famous.
In 1993, convincing DD to take part in a new tv show, Bob didn't still know it has determined the destiny of both.
In spite of the tie with little pigs or -as legend says- just thanks to *that* tie, its healthy holder succeeded to obtain the part of the protagonist in the pilot of the “X files”, devised from a masochist surfer called CC.The pilot was a very success so they begin to shot the first season.
But Bob understood too much late (and unfortunately to its expenses) to have made a choice not just happy for its dreams.
From *that* point of view, “X files” has been revealed a tv series whose protagonists (she a Siberian cloister Sister and he a crazy beefcake escaped from "the lunatic & tranvestites agents of FBI" asylum ) had the times of the courtship of the sloths.

to be continued...

mood:busy

All about Bob

2007-09-12T11:40:00.000-07:00

The last one and complete official guide to the discovery of Bob

Disclaimer:This is a parody. It does not agree to offend nobody or violate nobody’s privacy.

Introduction
Perhaps like no other member of its species Bob has been able to attract on itself so many attentions from gentle sex,safeguarding with intelligence its life and its private business.
For this one -and another hundreds of motivations- Bob deserves a serious and scrupulous analysis that explains the reasons which are behind (or perhaps is better to say “within”) a such big success.This guide -created from the requirement to furnish a complete and truthfully portrait on its existence- represents therefore the absolute and definitive truth about Bob -who have personally contributed to realize it- giving me several details and memories of its intimate life.
Warning :the original Bob’s comments were *obviously* in italics…I hope I was able to render them understandable and funny despite the translation. Anyway, I should suggest you to learn Italian,ddwatchers, because it’s a beautiful language :-P

-------------- PART I --------------
BOB’S LIFE AND WORKS
Bob was born on the sunny morning of 7 August in 1960 in New York (if you wanna know, it is of the Lion, ascending Aquarius), and it immediately seemed to all present a creature much equipping.Someone says the first father’s comment was been: “Oh my god…ouh… Well, it’s all its father!” and another says the mother has replied: “Well, *much* better than its father…”. Few time later its parents got a divorce.
The name Bob wasn’t selected at random. In fact this one won on Jim, Dick and John above all for its spiritual meaning.
It seems that “Bob” comes from an ancient language of disowned people*, whose translation sounds like: “Geez! We never had looked a similar creature before, how we had been able to living without it until this moment… lucky person who f*** it!”
Disowned people, but much loquacious.
Bob passed an happy childhood and grew up without particular traumas, beginning to develop -since the puberty- that wild and independent spirit which it has got still today.
Bob itself told me that when it was a teenager it didn’t have a great social life and it preferred to stay calm looking after its business, dedicating sometimes to hand job… “if you want a thing done well, do it yourself” as it said me.These activities slipped in second step when it began to attend the advanced schools: there it finally understood there were more interesting hobbies with which engage the scholastic extra hours.
Bob is a dynamic type and since it was young it practiced many sports, always with optimal results. But, as it said, the activities in which it always succeeded to express itself at the best remained the swim and the basket, even if it didn’t scorn baseball and jogging (and no way… it didn’t ever try the jump with the auction, if you’re asking to yourself now).
However, remain mythical the photos that immortalize it while, with its healthy holder* (a.k.a David Duchovny),exits from the swimming pool wearing a beautiful red speedo.
Returning to its youth, Bob worked hard and its studies proceeded straight ahead: it was an optimal element so it doesn’t astonish therefore that it has been graduated quite at Princeton.
Before becoming the "PhD Bob" it decided to abandon the doctorate at Yale, choosing to give a significant turn to own life.
It decided to become an actor by chance (sure, fine, whatever…Who believe yet the story of “I accompanied my friend to a selection, a talent scout noticed me and I began famous”??? If you are one of them, you have to know something that your parents never told you:Santa Claus doesn’t exist).
But Bob attracted really attention on itself.Thanks to the charming presence of David, its best friend (they know each other practically from they were born), obtained little parts in some movies like “Working girl”(1988) and “Twin Peaks” (1990)
And at this point it’s necessary specify a note, at the request of Bob, in order to clarify one of the more difficult and dark point of its career....

continues...

The purple rose of L.A. aka Hank’s blog # 42

2007-09-08T05:57:00.000-07:00

Author : BirDDer

Disclaimer : all materials are property of Showtime

Rating : blasphemy, nudity

Genre : vignette

---------------------------------

In my life,umm…in my *recent* life in L.A., I saw, made and took things more varied - smashing laws and taboo - but when yesterday morning I have -nearly- lost my identity,I understood God really hates me!

The beds in which I usually wake are a stinking mess of sex and joint,

instead that bed was perfumed and in order.

When I opened – uhu... I tried to open- my sorrow eyes, I saw,opposite the bed, my big face.

It was not a mirror - as soon as my headache allowed me to make little steps- but a photo of mine: my stumble face,a black t-shirt and an apple…

A red apple?

I rubbed my eyes.I was thirsty and dizzy and I wanted only a cigarette.

The room,totally new for me,was dipped in sunshine light.Too much.

Pc was on,on the table near the window,and a screensaver…it was again my face.

An idiot who smiled,in a white jacket...And again,I didn't remember where or when that pic was taked.

Strange enough... that place was full of me: objects,posters,pictures....all was about me.

"WOW" I thought…"Where fuck I finish up?"

"A temple of a middle age ex –writer ???"

My ring,the same ring, was on the bedside table near the tidy bed with the same bracelets too... I istinctively checked my wrist and my left index: all right, old Hank.

*All* my jewels were in their place.

A woman's scream distracted me at the check.The girl under the door seemed scared;for a moment my id was depressed.

Jolting, I have treaded on white panties on the floor, that wild night had to be passed…

-Don't you remember me?-I asked at her, covering me with hands - Are you my yesterday date?Sorry,but I'm hit by amnesia...-

It was true,and her young worried face didn't help me.

-You...you...you...-she was breathless.

-Hey...My head spin around and if you continue to stutter, maybe I'll be able to vomit.And you don't have an expensive painting at the wall for this.-

-Are...Are...Are...-

-Yeah, a loser. You definitely know me,very well.Relax,I'm leaving... as soon as I find my jeans.

I don't want that the other light of my porsche can broken off…-

The unknow girl watched me now with passion, (maybe have I been great last night ?) sitting on her bed, while I collected my dress turn around and I began to cover myself.

-It'll be better that you raises your jaw from the carpet, I could thread something of mine to in…- while I teased her, she continued to fix me.

-Just a question: did you made that with computer graphic?I absolutely don't remember …- and I indicated her my photo on the wall; that one with the red apple.

-Me? It's a Californication promo pic...- she answered with a weak voice.

- "Californication"?What the hell it means ?-

-It's your new tv show…-she said with admirate tone.

Bad thing...I didn't remember nothing about it!Maybe my agent would sold God hates us all's copyrights to the tv?

- I'm the same guy you have lured …Or maybe I have lured you... but where? In a club,on the street... oh,please...don't tell me at the book shop. I don't know anything about 'Ca li fo rni ca tion' thing...- I was not much threatening with nacked ass.

She repeted -This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening.-

She dressed only a gray t-shirt, nacked legs...good legs.She was a blonde,natural blonde,

I checked.

-Are you really David...?-asked me,brutally,recovered her mind,while I recovered my cigarettes on her bedside table, between the lamp and her vibrator.

-Who? You can call me as you want , and I will not take offense myself if you don't remember who fuck ed you last night …Anyway I'm Hank,how are you?- finally I was smoking and full dressed, so I could give her more attention.

-Me? At this moment "I'm hit from amnesia" too and I don't figure out WHY you are here!!

But I know WHO you are: you are the best actor,the awesome man on…-

-Ehy ehy...Stop with this shit.Who motherfucker is 'David'?- I had to be out there. She was nut,or maybe simply drugged, she exchanged me with another guy...she repeated a strange name,totally unknow to me.

-David Duchovny...YOU!-now she was convinced.With a strange light in her eyes,she appeared like a maniac.

I began to have fear.

I pulled up my jeans zip and decided to let go the stuff.

But my narcissism had still a question for her.

-Did you read my novel?-I asked her with my best indifferent (and very fake) look .

-Yale's time?Yes,on web,but your poetry is better...-she seemed herself resumption from the shock to see me here, I had felt myself like an apparition or a vision, this was flattering.

-Poetry? I didn't ever wrote poetries, not even to the times of CBGB. I have written "God hate us all" and the only thing I'm writing now is a blog, a very bad blog...-

She began to laugh out.When she was calmed, she explained to me...or what she thought it could be an explanation for me.

-You are David Duchovny,the actor who plays Hank Moody's character on the tv show titled Californication,and I REALLY don't know why you are here in my bedroom, even if it always has been my forbidden dream: meet you..- and she was blushed,in L.A?

Impossible.

-No,no,no..I'm not!My identity it's the last thing that remains me, after I've lost my family,my will and my talent to write.You make a mistake…And I'm insane remaining here.Thank for…whichever thing we've done.-

Finding the exit, I made only two steps when she caught up to me and kissing me. Her arms were around to my neck.

-You can pretender to be Hank, David ,but for me,you will ever be my love...-she whispered.

Although I thought she was crazy, I must admit I went too much fastly, but at least I exchanged with her an embrace and a kiss,very warmly.

I've gone wishing only a shower to forget another L.A. crazy girl.

Conclusion:I don't understand what happened,as usual.

daily mood: tired

What's your f(lav)our?

2007-09-01T09:42:00.000-07:00

daily mood:satisfy

My favourite moody

2007-08-31T08:52:00.000-07:00

As I said few days ago,I decide to add a new section on my blog. Not all the ddwatchers definitely know I'm a *little* creative,so I'm proud to introduce you "Playhank"...a space in which I'll post my original works, according to my daily mood.

But after all,you'll learn that my fav & constant *mood-y* is that one I can imagine and create here...