book by Richard Thorne

Chapter 1 – We don’t need no red Prologue – 14/7/1992 – Prologue

“What a sunny day!” – I see the bird landing on the tree. Suddenly I hear the bell as the doors open and a young man comes in. I raise my hand to signal him where I am. He comes closer and asks:
                             – Mister, Vladimir Mikalič?
                             – Yes – I answer – please take a seat.
A waitress comes to take the order. A man orders some coffee and turns to me:
                             – Hello, I’m Mariush Kelzak, I called you yesterday – he says in a semi deep voice.
                             – Nice to meet you. So what’s the deal?
                             – I’m working for “Tavianski Utra” journal; I want to take an interview from you.
                             – About the events of 1987
I raised an eyebrow and made a “What?” look. Then after a second I answered:
                             – Everybody knows what happened in 1987, this is not an event to speak about.
                             – Well, that is the problem, everyone knows the ‘official’ version of the events, but very few people know what really happened back in the day.
                             – Those events are not the topic I want to discuss. I lost a lot of my friends there… – I take a breath and strongly say – No!
Journalist looks at me kind of angrily:
                             – Sir, people have the right to know what happened in this island, I can assure you’ll remain anonymous if you want.
                             – But what if I don’t want to speak about it. I think you have many stories you don’t want to share with just anybody.
                             – Yes, I have my secrets, but this is different, this is everybody’s secret you have deep in your memory. Also it’ll be a lot easier if you spoke out what has been struggling you for the past years. – He raised a corner of his lip. I looked at my cup of coffee, then said:
                             – Ok! But the things I will tell you may not be pretty…
He raised a corner of his lip more:
                             – That’s OK! I’m ready for those kinds of things.
I raised my head and shook it almost invisibly then turned to look through the window and started telling my story… no… our story:
                             – It all began in the winter of 1987… I had a dream…