Storm: The First & Only One
By Anna Teleki
5/5
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About this ebook
Welcome to Paris!
The loved... and the cursed city of Remie André, where you wouldn't believe the number of people alone. Just like Remi.
A naive, pessimistic man who can hardly find happiness. But one day, a storm shakes his tranquil life. Rémi's true self slowly begins to reveal itself, while his mask fades, unable to control his actions and falls in love ... But the Tempest will not go so easily...
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Book preview
Storm - Anna Teleki
Kneaded, twisted, worked by the healer of words:
Neyla Grey.
Written by the Author of Unique Stories, Anna Teleki, Translate A.Sil
1
Preface
To all the living creatures, it has been granted a life. A long or short voyage from the first beat of the heart to the last. Time to encounter with a million faces, never-ending words, lots of dreams to be achieved. Still, there is always a goal, a vital, like a breath of air. Launching a kite on the seashore... No, not that, just the joy of a child that goes with it. A single moment we want to keep for our self... the bliss. That is the goal. So we wait for the day we can go to the sea, for the breeze to come and hoist our
Rainbow Kite. As high as it can go!
We’re not the only ones. Oh, no... Cause...Everyone wishes to feel the happiness.
(''Dear Reader''! This lgbtq story might disgust you. You may feel disappointed, if you do not enter into the lives of these characters with the spirit of acceptance. However, everybody should be happy, and everyone has a right to be, to live, happily. This must
2
always be kept in mind before taking advantage of other people, or judge them.)
Caution: This novel is a fiction. All the actions, situations, and characters are imaginary. Except the characters, who may have be a real life persons, oh, and except the situations that may have really happened... somewhere is Paris...
New York, September, 2001
St. Michael's Orphanage and
Foster Home
Wake up!
the ice-cold water gushes out of the blue at the soundly sleeping child. He grabs his breath in fear as he rises up in bed. A loud laugh ring in his ears. He is laughed at. They laugh again. The darkened door of the bedroom slides open, revealing a thin, long-clad female silhouette looming in the light.
Again? Haven't got better to do at daybreak, have you?
A warbling question, but children just giggle some more. The lady moves to the small boy shivering in bed. He was the one dragged from his slumber by his peers. He wipes his blushing faces, shuddering. She scolds him, looking down at him with hands on her waist.
*
Laying on his bed side, he heaves a deep sigh. He gazes out the latticed window with teary eyes. The Weather outside is fine. His friends are out playing and he's huddled here, trembling under the blanket. He can barely breathe. He's ill all over again. It's always like always. Winter, Summer, Autumn or Spring, it made no difference. He gets flu, or a viral infection. He's small in comparison to the rest of them. He's weak. Perhaps that's why he gets picked on. He gasps when he hears the creak of a door and then the shuffle of steps. Looks dizzily to the end of his bed, from where a small child with a brown, somewhat smeared, pert face stares at him with large, gold-brown eyes.
I got you some of today's cookies,
he starts towards him, placing the chocolate cookie, just under two bites, on the bedside stand. Our little friend cannot thank him properly. He just smiles and stares at him with teary eyes. He is coughing hard. "You
got a miserable body, you know... Sister Beatrix told me you will never be adopted, says the young boy, ruffling his friend blond curls with his little hands.
Get well quickly, let's go to play soccer! And , if no
one else, I'll adopt you!"
October 2007, Paris
Lycée International -
American Section
The dining room is crowded. There are more than enough people at tables. The late arriving, girlish faced lad stands at the door, stares into the mass. He takes his tray and turns to leave. There is no room for him. He steps with some difficulty. Heavy, bearish steps. He's got a pair of too-big denim pants on. The suit jacket stretched across his big body as he turns into the men's bathroom. Settles down on the lowered seat of the toilet cover, sighing hard, and watches his dinner on the tray. He feels hot. His heart is pounding, as , if he's just run off the treadmill. He finds it hard to move his large body. It's too much for him.
The door to the bathroom swings and one of his schoolmates opens it. There's a disgusting smile on his tall, thin adolescent face. Hm, are you here to feed yourself again?
...he shrugs. That look on your face, you've earned it! No surprise no one loves you!
moves closer and snatches the tray out of his hand, grabbing the round, reddening face.
Why-why do you do that to me?
Oh, my goodness,
the adolescent feigns pity, I wonder, 'does it really hurt so bad? Vhi-vhi, you crybaby! Oh, no! Grunting pig! You are only good for teasing! Or not that either...
The doors shut on him, he can hear laughter, but he squeezes his eyelids together in sorrow, and the tears well up under his long lashes, down on his red cheeks.
*
He lays in bed watching TV. Sports channel, the basketball team is on. He will never be as tall or as quick.
Move it! Move it!
A female voice cuts to him in his patched uniform. You'll never be wanted , if you can't at least get yourself cleaned up! Clean it up , if it's soiled.
She looks at him with a stinging glance. Wretch!
she says, leaving the room.
His sister is only two years older than he is. He sighs as he struggles to sit up in bed. It's always like that. It always does. Looking in mirror, to the loose black shirt, is no help now. No one's ever really going to want him. He was a thin kid. Yet this is what nature does to him when he hits adolescence. Other kids grow acne and facial hair, and he's turned into an elephant-footed, chubby, girly-faced slob. His fair skin stands in stark contrast to his dark hair, and his cheeks are flushed with disgrace. He groans, and stares at a sportsman playing baskets on TV. He needs to somehow lose some weight.
28th January 2008, Manhattan
nyc flatiron studio rental
Let's see a gorgeous smile, baby – demands the voice, and she gracefully turns over in her white silk nightdress on the bed. She ruffles her luscious black locks, biting at her lips, dark eyes fueled with lust as she gazes at the camera.
Just like that! " The camera flashes, but temptation is already too much. The blond young man bites his lip and stares in puzzlement at the man behind him. Her husband. The man has a perilous smile on His face.
You want some, eh?
he wonders, sipping his glass of whisky. The reply is a wide smile on the camera man’s face, and then he returns to her. She licks her lips in hungry anticipation, stretches her white skinned body across the crumpled covers, pulling the nightdress up slowly on long legs. From what I can see, she is very much into a threesome...
he gets up from behind him and slowly unbuttons his shirt.
July 2011
Rue Beethoven, 7*016 Paris,
France
There is this wonderful city of love, fashion and delicious food. Home of dreams and romanticism, where couples cuddle together sweetly in the gardens; where so many attractions lure you in, drawing out the most exquisite sensations: the inspiration, the dancing, the love words... and a noisy debate in French.
What on earth is wrong with you? You're coming at me out of the blue with this nonsense!
A sharp female voice.
It's not nonsense!
A quieter, deep voice.
Lord God! What do you mean you're gay? That's insane! You take one thought, and just when your life is about to get back on the right track, you choose to screw it up and ruin everything for the future!
It's...
Shut up! Quiet! Silence!
A nervous sigh. No way, I swear! You're always in trouble! I cannot even look at you anymore! I just wish you had never born!
7th of December 2019, somewhere in Paris...
I guess, I want more...
the face on fire mumbles into the cushion.
What do you mean, more? More than just this?
the dark-skinned man stares with shiny bug eyes. You just came, didn't you?
The only answer is a face that turns more into the pad. The man's prone ears are burning red. The black man gets up and tugs up his underwear. Are you going to cry? Stop being so fucking sentimental! What are you? A cry-baby? I can't do it with you like this. You are pathetic!
The door is closing.
The man holds tight to the pillow as he embraces it. He screams mutely so no one will hear his pain.
I.
2019, 11TH of December,
10:20 AM, Paris, France
Life sucks! That's the focus at this moment. A tall, black haired man just keeps looking in front of him. Hot coffee steams in his mittens in front of his beveled face. It's a damned city, he wonders, sipping his coffee. The Palace of Versailles is still shrouded in mist. A blasted city... There' s one man in the world who really hates Paris. He does exist. He, Remie André. He must be collecting material for an article. However, he cannot do it right away. You are pathetic... Just like that, his three weeks affair ends. No surprise, he wasn't even expecting more than one month. After all, in his world, unfortunately, that's what happens with him. Come, test, leave. Fighting has no place here either. Love? No. Needs! That'
what they have. Curiosities. Find a mate, a couple of days, weeks in better cases, and then change.
It's been like that for as long as he can remember. Or should I say, ever since he got into this whole world. The phone has been ringing for a long time. He heaves a sigh and pulls it out of his jacket pocket.
Oui?
a low tone comes from him.
Hey, Remie! Want to play?
says the voice on the other line, also deep.
I'm busy at work.
We're actually playing against Shakespeare.
Remie is thinking. He stares down at the grass in front of him, sighing.
OK, I'm going!
He sets down the phone and stares at the Palace for a long minute. Cursed city...
2.
He shuts the door to the locker room, and Enzo heads for it. The only taller player than Remy today.
A handshake. Let's get them on the scoreboard!
I'm on it. I'm on it.
It's a hobby. We all have hobbies. Remie is playing basketball. He played his freshman year of University. This court's a few blocks from his place in the 14th Ward of the capital. It's a quiet place. They run onto the court, and a couple of fans wave to them. After all who doesn't like tall guys? It's just family members and friends. It's not a big play. Come on. A couple of friends from college, a few strangers, who come to the court, because they love the game of basketball.
Remie gets his arms extended. He doesn't care about who's on the bench. Nobody's here for him. There never was. Enzo sounds the whistle, everybody takes the court and play starts. Since freshman year of university, he began when he was 19, having stretched out suddenly to 198 cm. He passes, and is heading into the opponents' area. He along with Noah are the best shooting players for the Red Dogs. The team that came together 7 years ago. Just a hobby. They've all got jobs, none of them professional players. They're not trying to be. So it's good. They're just enjoying the game. Playing with a team of professors from other Universities. Or just on their own, on the weekends, to relax.
The 60 minutes are quickly up and the mission is a success. Remie makes a basket. 33 points. Enzo cancels the game. At last! Even in the cold winter days, Remie's gray track athlete is soaking wet and shaking his pants, panting for air. Man...
Remie sighs heavy as Enzo stands beside him and tousles his black locks.
Are you out of breath?
he says tiredly, and
Remie just gives him a nod.
Just a bit.
That's how it is when you don't exercise enough!
Enzo from the bench tosses him a towel.
The guys leave the pitch with a distracted murmur.
We won!
– Lucas, just 24 years old, is laughing. He's the younger of the squad, but fast enough to be Remie's shadow. He's a happy kid, the let's go to the walls
type, because once we live. He peels out of his wet t-shirt and wiggles his bum shirt topless. We beat the crap out of them! You, Remie!
he pointing two fingers, arms out towards Remie. "We
wouldn't have done it without you!"
Stupid!
snaps Remie his shoe at him, and Enzo opens a beer next to him.
he's right!
he takes a seat on the bench as Remie's shoes come flying back. He grabs it, then opens his locker. Right, Mathias?
he gives a nod to his other partner.
There's the point. You and Noah are unstoppable!
It's called team work,
he says, taking out his bag and placing it on the bench. He dresses. Enzo takes a long sip of his beer.
What are you writing about now?
Sights to see
comes the slightly bored reply.
Well, there's Paris!
There is...
Remie sighs and slips into a dry Tshirt.
Aren't you going to take a shower?
Noah, the tall Brazilian demi-God, stands next to him in a towel. He wipes his dark, wet hair and stares down at
Remie with green eyes.
I live just two minutes away,
Remie replies, and zips up his bag. He takes Enzo's hand, then those of the other boys, and starts for the door. He is two minutes away. No more, no Less. Particularly , if you've got a Jaguar, and you know the shortcuts...
3.
The doors of the small apartment open slowly. The light turns on, and Remie is throwing his sports equipment into the small bathroom shower next to it. He makes his way to the kitchen and reaches into the fridge. He's still got some of his Milanese from last night. He pulls it out, microwaves, and while the small dark machine heats his dinner, leans against the wall and stares out the window. It's a peaceful place. Apart from the neighbors. By the way, it is. The mic beeps, and Remie takes out the plate. Big man, eating a lot, one would think, but he's not. He's the kind of man who eats half of everything. He's been eating half since he was 16, 5'4", 220 lbs. Yes. So overweight that the doctors said his heart wouldn't take it. One of hundreds of worries. What kind of career did you choose? Another question he raised his shoulders. His mom said he was too lazy. So he'll never have friends. His father said he'd never have family. His older sister told him bluntly, There's no chance in living hell of having a girl who wants you.
It's not the answer. No. , if someone is to be motivated to change, they need to be encouraged, helped. Find out how you can help them. Not to look down on them, blow them off every day.
Half a dose is still on the plate as he walks to the bathroom. Funny. He' s 28 years old and heading right for where his family told him he'd be. No friends, no family, no girls. In fact, at this point, he doesn't have any relationships. He's more handsome than ever. The job pays well, and he