The Country House

Saturday, the 3rd of November 2019

My family and I were driving along a country road in an expensive black car, having previously been to an event where I had met a classmate by chance; an official occasion. Our car could only be opened using an extremely secure car key that we had already tried out in the car park: you had to insert eight differently shaped keys into the lock one after the other; this also involved heating a certain spot with a lighter.

We drove along the country road and were searched for by the police. Eventually we found refuge behind an old country house where you couldn't see the parked car from the road. A relative of ours, an elderly lady, lived in the house. My grandmother fought verbally and then physically with a policeman who had found us and entered the house. He turned into a cup full of water and my grandmother poured it over the flower bed in front of the house, which was tantamount to killing him.

There were more and more of us in the house, friends and relatives. Another policeman had discovered the car behind the house, but that was no longer so important. We teenagers dumped loads of plastic rubbish in a slot in the kitchen counter, and the rubbish fell into the basement below, where two monstrous-looking people were feeding on it. We knew nothing of the two trapped in the basement, as if we were in a horror film; and now it was as if I was watching it all in a film.

2024 half of a rainbow