Post by Luciano on Aug 7, 2015 21:51:19 GMT -5
Composer Peter Gundry
I'm tearin' out the
pages 'cause it hurts
And starin' into the eyes of the shell left of me
München,
Germany
A man in a creamy brown London-cut Anderson & Sheppard suit, boarded his flight with light steps on the morning of a sunny clear day. He took a seat in the quiet room destined for the privileged - the business class product that was created for the German Airlines on the Lufthansa planes. His lips quivered slightly as they parted. He glanced at the watch on his wrist and sighed, eyes glistening as he forced a smile on his face, but it only came weak. A shiver swept through him. He tilted his head, uncrossed his legs, adjusted his tie. If one was to walk by and glance towards Luciano Di Grazia, they will clearly notice how abundantly focused he was on the bouquet of Her favorite flowers, resting on the empty seat next to him. A seat reserved for the One he was feverishly waiting for.
For one split second, as he waited, Luciano wistfully thought that he saw her from the window to his left. He could have sworn that he recognized her from the fairness of her skin, the golden curls atop her head, the scarlet red of her lips; the way the dame smiled as she headed for the flight... The man's eyes flickered beneath his lids and dropped his stormy blues to the tiny black velvety box in the palm of his right hand. His thoughts suddenly sailed him away to the events that encouraged his return to Germany, with nervousness in the pit of his stomach. A heavy feeling was then trapped in his throat as he thought in remembrance.
---
~ One month ago, he had witnessed the assassination of an officer while the latter was not too far away a distance from his wife. Luciano came to learn that very same day that her name was Carmen. He watched her as she lost her beloved before her very eyes, not longer before blackness claimed her spirit. The officer, a good man, passed away that very same day. In that moment, he felt helpless, when he watched her facial expressions projecting the image of a visage growing pale with each split second that passes. In that moment, her damaged mind manifested what Luciano interpreted as heightened, haunted terror. A mere shell she was left. Her shriek of horror reverberated through him as the dark abyss consumed Carmen's consciousness.
The tragic event put Luciano in a state of pure shock, of despair. It left the bitter taste of a familiar agony on his lips. The event pulled the man from his own reality only to plunge him deeper into a withering past he could never leave behind. Never forgotten.
Four days later after the murder, Luciano purchases a ticket to a flight that was leaving that very same day to the his birth-place, once his home, today a place he hasn't visited since 1945.
Germany...
Where it all began... He knew what he needed to do and at the time it seemed like it was the right thing to do. These were his thoughts as he raced that day to the airport.
---
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. If you haven’t already done so, please stow your carry-on luggage underneath the seat in front of you or in..."
"Enjoy your flight, Sir. Is there anything you would like to drink?"
He hoped that She will arrive soon for she was the one to hold the lamp, lit brightly at the end of the tunnel of fear and despair. She was his hope, and God, how she prolonged his torment. He closed his eyes tight. Right palm on his lap. His left leg began to shake but he forced it to stop. He moistened his lips and bit on the insides of his mouth, glancing one more time towards the window as his now pale features bathed in the brilliance of the morning sun. He shielded his eyes by closing his eyelids, once again, diving into the very recent events of his life in Munich.
---
The air suddenly felt unmoving, nostalgic, but the steps that he made as he walked past a familiar church, made his breathing force fresh air out of his mouth or else he would have fallen unconscious, seeing as how suffocated he suddenly felt. The streets of Munich, the church, every memory of what the city used to look like just before the war, were images that came back to punch him powerfully in the guts; images of buildings gloriously adorned with swaying red Swastika flags, dancing on every roof, every window, at the corner of every street, along each and every boulevard... A strong, confident man like himself, would have succumbed dangerously at any given moment. Dorothea Rossi, his aging mother and aunt to Viktor, had one arm around his and if it was not for her, the aching shivers of distress coursing through his body would have turned him into a mad man, oh-so mercilessly.
Once Dorothea and Luciano arrived to the cemetery, they entered it, and their paths lead them to one particular grave. The grave of Fabiano Di Grazia, Luciano's twin brother and once upon a time a Wehrmacht soldier, who fought and conquered Poland only little time before his assassination during a raid at one clinic, in Munich. Unlike Luciano, Fabiano strongly believed in Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich.
Have you ever been eagerly waiting for a loved one in a situation where you knew, that if this person never shows up, you may never see them again? If yes, then you would have felt when your departure was nearing, hot tears feeling up your eyes, your heart, growing so heavy you would think that you're about to faint from a cardiac arrest. You fight for air to breathe from within the shrine of your soul, if only to let out the shocked cry in your chest ... but your throat closes tight, cruelly, brutally, leaving you with nothing but complete hopelessness, despair and sorrow unleashed.
Oh heaven knows...
Sitting didn't help much, as the announcement of doors closing echoed repeatedly in his head. The voice, the words, although distracting, didn't prevent him from hoping. Yes, maybe one more second, perhaps another minute of waiting and she will be there, to burn out his pain, because all he ever wanted for all these years, was to be happy, with her. He would settle down for Her and he would make her his wife.
His Yvonne... The siren who sang against the wind on a December night of 1939. And he sailed to her a wise man. If only he knew what pain mariners before him endured, when they answered to the call of the siren.
Luciano's heart sank. He looked away from the window and ground his teeth inside his mouth, placing his sweaty palms on his thighs and along his legs as he pressed his back against the chair. The small black velvet box that contained a black diamond engagement ring, fell to the floor and rolled down a certain path a few chairs away. The plane took off, rising higher and higher above the clouds. His eyes moistened and glistened with confirmed desperation, but he suppressed the tears, because strong men didn't cry, they say. His throat tightened and what was his wrought heart now grew fragile yet heavier than ever. His chest jolted, breath lurched and shuttered. Eyes welled up with tears, and weakness conquered.
And in the dying hope of seeing her again, taking her home to Las Vegas, the sky and the interior of the flight slowly turned into a blur around him. He raised a hand and buried his face in it, as he sat quietly in his chair, softly crying.
Mentioned: The Gambler - Carmen Ortiz - @viktorrossi
Once Dorothea and Luciano arrived to the cemetery, they entered it, and their paths lead them to one particular grave. The grave of Fabiano Di Grazia, Luciano's twin brother and once upon a time a Wehrmacht soldier, who fought and conquered Poland only little time before his assassination during a raid at one clinic, in Munich. Unlike Luciano, Fabiano strongly believed in Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich.
---
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Gabriella Austerlitz and I’m your chief flight attendant. On behalf of Captain Gärtner and the entire crew, welcome aboard Lufthansa Airlines flight 2030, non-stop service from Flughafen München, Germany, to Washington Dulles International Airport, USA, then continuing on to McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas..."
Have you ever been eagerly waiting for a loved one in a situation where you knew, that if this person never shows up, you may never see them again? If yes, then you would have felt when your departure was nearing, hot tears feeling up your eyes, your heart, growing so heavy you would think that you're about to faint from a cardiac arrest. You fight for air to breathe from within the shrine of your soul, if only to let out the shocked cry in your chest ... but your throat closes tight, cruelly, brutally, leaving you with nothing but complete hopelessness, despair and sorrow unleashed.
Oh heaven knows...
Sitting didn't help much, as the announcement of doors closing echoed repeatedly in his head. The voice, the words, although distracting, didn't prevent him from hoping. Yes, maybe one more second, perhaps another minute of waiting and she will be there, to burn out his pain, because all he ever wanted for all these years, was to be happy, with her. He would settle down for Her and he would make her his wife.
His Yvonne... The siren who sang against the wind on a December night of 1939. And he sailed to her a wise man. If only he knew what pain mariners before him endured, when they answered to the call of the siren.
---
After his visit to the cemetery, Luciano reached out to his contacts in search for her, but no one knew of her whereabouts. She was certainly not one of the Nazi fugitives. She was strong, and the times she almost broke, she stood her ground with the fires of liberty within her throat. Somebody though, heard his lament and guided him to a certain apartment, saying that a woman fitting the description he gave of her lived there. But nobody ever answered Luciano. He left a note and an envelope under the door, with a flight ticket destined to her name. He could not believe that he may have been so close to seeing her again, if only she answered the door. If only, it was truly her who lived there if the stranger was right.---
“Flight attendants, please prepare for take-off.”
Luciano's heart sank. He looked away from the window and ground his teeth inside his mouth, placing his sweaty palms on his thighs and along his legs as he pressed his back against the chair. The small black velvet box that contained a black diamond engagement ring, fell to the floor and rolled down a certain path a few chairs away. The plane took off, rising higher and higher above the clouds. His eyes moistened and glistened with confirmed desperation, but he suppressed the tears, because strong men didn't cry, they say. His throat tightened and what was his wrought heart now grew fragile yet heavier than ever. His chest jolted, breath lurched and shuttered. Eyes welled up with tears, and weakness conquered.
And in the dying hope of seeing her again, taking her home to Las Vegas, the sky and the interior of the flight slowly turned into a blur around him. He raised a hand and buried his face in it, as he sat quietly in his chair, softly crying.
Mentioned: The Gambler - Carmen Ortiz - @viktorrossi
Made by Riley at THQ!