The Last Grain of a Dandelion: Eve’s Last Wish

By Biancardo Maurizio

Jon’s paradisiac world is soon to be destroyed as simply as a child puffing upon a perfect dandelion seed head.
It is set to be one of his life’s testing moments that we all have experienced at one time or another in our own lifetime.
Jon travels to all four corners of our globe, even to the moon. He encounters men, women, and children from all religions and all walks of life from the biggest city to the smallest remote village within less than one of Earth’s years. During this time Jon also coexists with every animal, insect and aquatic world teaching him our planet’s strengths and weakness. His unique knowledge and gift to be channelled to every living human being. Giving him a chance to choose, do and wish not only for ourselves but for another.
The questions remain.
What would you choose?
What would you do?
What would you wish?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398441958

Biancardo Maurizio

Maurizio, born the 4th son of his Italian immigrant parents; who moved to England in the 1960s. At the age of 15, he’d already left home. He lived for two years with a surrogate family. At 17, he was living in his first apartment. Working and studying at the same time. His first job was a French polisher. By the age of 19, he moved to Paignton Devon. Working different jobs to get by. At 22, he moved back to Naples and then to Corsica where he lived and worked for two years. After various voyages between Italy, England and Corsica, he moved to the south of France in 1994, working on a campsite for two years before entering as bag loader at Marseille Airport. In 2013, Maurizio moved to Bayern, Germany, where he lived and worked for five years before moving back to France, in 2018. With over 20 years in the airline business, he is now head of Ground Operations. But his true passion, since he was a boy, is writing.

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About the Author

Maurizio, born the 4th son of his Italian immigrant parents; who moved to England in the 1960s. At the age of 15, he’d already left home. He lived for two years with a surrogate family. At 17, he was living in his first apartment. Working and studying at the same time. His first job was a French polisher. By the age of 19, he moved to Paignton Devon. Working different jobs to get by. At 22, he moved back to Naples and then to Corsica where he lived and worked for two years. After various voyages between Italy, England and Corsica, he moved to the south of France in 1994, working on a campsite for two years before entering as bag loader at Marseille Airport. In 2013, Maurizio moved to Bayern, Germany, where he lived and worked for five years before moving back to France, in 2018. With over 20 years in the airline business, he is now head of Ground Operations. But his true passion, since he was a boy, is writing.

Dedication

To Sybille, Walter and Susanne.

There are people and places that enter and leave our hearts, and lives, as rapid as a shooting star.

And then there are people and places that leave their footprints in our hearts and lives for eternity.

Thank you for leaving me your footprints. I will follow them for as long as I live.

Copyright Information ©

Biancardo Maurizio 2022

The right of Biancardo Maurizio to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398441941 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398441958 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

Thank you to everybody who made my words, characters and worlds come to life.

Thank you, Austin Macaulay Publishers, for believing in me.

Dandelion

Imagine a world where there is no hate, no suffering, no war, no man or woman richer or poorer than thy neighbour. Imagine a world where there is no more evil. It is said that Mankind and Womankind originated from one soul, one distinctive being.

The Adams and Eves of planet earth, although each species genetic codes and DNA chromosomes all expressing the same existence, Humankind. Each individual heredity human gene, like a unique characteristic, a destined dactylogram of our fingerprints. It is also said that one innocent free-will gesture of a hand reaching out to pick a simple forbidden fruit from the tree of life, changed the path of humankind, bringing evil and sin into the world.

Howbeit despite the evil souls who throughout the millenniums and present day, bringing tyranny and hate among one race, one earth, one world. But amongst us, amidst the evil beings which have tyrannised mankind and scared the earth’s precious lands with their evil doings. There have always been unique souls. Souls who have always placed their individualistic desires and dreams aside to help another less fortunate than themselves. Psyches, energies, spirits, geniuses seemingly coming from afar, like a shooting star blazing to earth from the universes empyrean. Maybe these intellectual immortals knew long before others.

A time destined to come where the chance to do, chose and wish to put this one innocent gesture right. A time where one day all mankind must join together, unite like never before, not only for their own survival but also for their one and unique planet earth. The universe’s tears and despair of the tyrannised abhor inflicted onto its celestial sibling, the innocent beings, children and the earth’s magnificent Animalia, spreading across planet earth, like the unstoppable robust seedling of a dandelion.

Its widely distributed weed organisms growing on every continent and in every corner of our globe, like mankind’s rising hate. But a dandelion metamorphosis into a magnificent alabaster globular head, its wishful legend and superstitions carrying a zephyr hope of change. An unforeseen force growing around us, below us, above us and even within us; like natural, edible prehistoric energies which have the power to heal. Mankind’s destiny soon to be shown, all of the earth and universal forces. Humankinds soon to be given one last chance. To do, choose and wish for a better world. The questions remain.

What would you do?

What would you choose?

What would you wish for?

After all, free-will was given to each and every one of us. A hand reached out.

(Genesis 2:16-17)

And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.

Chapter 1

Promise Me

Read on, said a faint quiet voice in an almost silently whisper.

Jon for an instant lifting his eyes away from his beloved wife, Johanna’s, precious book. A book which she’d treasured since the beginning of her time and even before her own understanding of words. Passed on to her by her mother, having cherished the book sacredly throughout her whole life. Given to Johanna’s mother by her grandmother and to her grandmother by her great grandmother. Johanna not actually knowing when the precious offering having entered her family’s generations. Only knowing where, her most precious offering, having grown from. The rare, unique, small pocket size palimpsest, 10 cm by 15 cm in length, no thicker than an inch. Its contents expressing the creation of mankind and human desire for love, peace and free-will.

Jon turning the very delicately pages of what seemed like a soft silk texture, as tenderly as forgone heirs and assigns had done long before him as though he was parting the fragile wings of a rare and elegant butterfly. On the front of the book, an image of a tree with three bare branches. As he softly caressed his fingers against the tree’s image. He could still distinctly see and feel the peculiar rouged bark effect. As though the book and its pages were somehow strangely alive. On the tallest branch stretching out to the right side, as if reaching for the sky; a jagged circular image with faded yellow and orange colours, around the size of a one-litre bottle top.

The illustration looking as though there were sparks coming from its circumambient, like lava erupting from a volcano. On the second branch, smaller in length, also outstretching to the sky but on the left side of the tree; another smaller globular shape image almost perfectly round and around the size of an adults thumb nail. Despite the book’s unknown aeon, it was still possible to make out the bizarre grey and black markings, sketched in the middle of the curious spheroid etching, like a child’s scribbles. Below on the lowest branch pointing to what seemed the ground beneath the tree a slightly bigger perfectly oblique form, with partially visible green, blue and white girdling; faded, like a book having been left for years, exposed to the elements of nature.

Each roundish image seemingly hanging from the branches, like suspended fruit waiting to be picked. In front of the three branch tree, a replication of a naked man, his feet sprouting from the tree roots. Next to him on his left side stood a naked woman connected to the man from his ribs, like Siamese twins, her left hand stretching out. Her finger tips touching the green, blue and white circular contour, which appeared to be drooping from the lowest branch. Below her a figure of a serpents head, its tail like the naked man’s feet sprouting from the tree roots. At the very bottom of the book, written in mauve the letters. O and D. The other letters in between pallid with time or so it seemed.

Read on, Mein Herz, (My heart) said the faint voice.

Mein Herz. One of the few German words Jon having actually mastered, despite his many travels. Languages not being his strong point.

Jon exhaled a gentle sigh giving him enough force to turn agilely the last page, as though he was opening up a handkerchief with delicate emeralds inside. Reading on, his voice overpowered with emotion; frail and croaky, like he’d been singing for hours on a live stage.

The blossoms of the earth are like the hope and love of all mankind. Alone it cannot grow or flower. Only the elements untied together, Earth, Air, Fire and Water will nourish its roots to give life, said Jon.

Johanna looking at him. Her eyes wide open, like an owl observing her forest on the darkest of nights. Her face fighting back excruciating pain to honour her devoted husband with a loving smile.

I love to hear you read mien Herz. I love to hear your gently soft voice pronounce such wonderful words, said Johanna.

Her voice soft and quiet, causing even her strong German accent, which at times seemed quite harsh to subdue into the vocal sound of a sweet child. Johanna pausing to breathe delicately, every minute physical gesture now as strenuous as if she was climbing the tallest peak of Mount Everest with a rucksack filled with stones. Only a little short of six years earlier, she’d laid in the same hospital, breathing carefully the same way. But only to give life. The birth of Jon and Johanna’s daughter, Eve, a miracle of nature. Eve became their world and love, even long before her birth. Suddenly, her pain intensified.

Jon, said Johanna in a faint whisper.

Her force weakening with every passing second. Jon moving closer to Johanna’s mouth, at the same time telling her not to speak anymore and keep her strength.

Jon, said Johanna. Ignoring his loving concerns, defiantly fighting her pain, like a boxer refusing to quit and fall.

Promise me you’ll puff Eve’s ultimate wish. You know if the last grain of the dandelion breaks free. The wish will come true. Promise me, said Johanna, pausing once again to catch her breath.

Her mouth dry, her lips chapped, like she’d walked across the desert for days without water. Jon tenderly pouring some water into the glass by her bed side. At the same time solicitously holding her head, like a new born for the very first time. Placing his loving, gentle hand behind his wife’s crown, helping her to approach the goblet. Johanna taking two small sips before weakly and sluggishly falling back against the cushion. Her once dynamic strength quickly leaving her.

You must puff the last grain of the dandelion at the mountain peaks special place. You must, said Johanna in between her fading respirations, like a women in labour.

Johanna’s breathing suddenly becoming threateningly worse. Jon softly caressing her beautiful pale right cheek, with the back side of his left hand.

I promise, said Jon in a soft but firm and determined voice.

Repeating, I promise.

Jon sitting back down next to Johanna. He was using all his inner forces to fight back every tear in his aching soul’s body. Jon holding Johanna’s left palm whilst at the same time lovingly stroking his right thumb over and over again the top of her hand, like a grandfather clocks pendulum back and forth. All his love, tenderness and hope being channelled through every loving tender movement. What he wanted was to lay completely naked next to her. Feel her soft bare skin against his own unveiled flesh. Ripple his fingers down her exquisite denuded back just like he’d done the first time they’d made love at Johanna’s secret garden.

What he desired was to listen to Johanna laugh again, like she’d done the many times, he’d read out aloud passages from her precious book whilst making up stupid voices. His mimicking caricatures always causing Johanna to burst into tears of merriment. What he would choose would be to go back six days earlier. There, where his existence and that of Johanna’s was at that magical place like those amongst us who’d reached the end of the rainbow.

Love, peace, hope and happiness bursting out of their lives, like a galaxy of magical stars, twinkling a world of blissful harmony constantly upon them, bestowing every ounce of their beings a thousand reasons to smile. Bestowing Jon with the sensation he was permanently walking on clouds. What he wanted more than anything was for Johanna to walk with him once again hand in hand. Accompanied by their five year old daughter Eve and their golden retriever, Popcorn, through the yellow raps crop fields with their red poppies pushing through here and there.

The cardinal flowers standing out few but proud, as though reminding the world that throughout the mass difference brings extra beauty. On the fields edges in every corner, dandelions. Some still yellow in their prime. Others already having changed to their beautiful feather white grain aura, just waiting for someone to gently puff away the seeds allowing them to carry their wishes to a magical mysterious place, that’s lives only deep within ones heart.

Only six days earlier Jon, Johanna and their daughter, Eve, along with Popcorn, having shared an enchanted moment together, on a beautiful mid-May evening. Captured on Jon’s mobile phone, like story book of images, frozen in time marking the moment and place for eternity. Each picture seemingly telling a new chapter within their lives. Popcorn having run in every direction sniffling after every other dog, who’d dared to mark her territory.

Little Eve trying with all her might to puff away every last grain of her dandelion. Her cute little freckled cheeks filling with air, like a balloon being over-filled. Her magnificent turquoise eyes closed tightly, as if a sand storm was blowing in her direction. Her little freckled nose twitching, as though a fly had just landed on it. Her only defence to jiggle her busybody, with all her might, not wanting to disturb the fragile alabaster feathered flowered head. She’d gently risen her chosen dandelion towards her cute tulip lips. Her long dark curly hair hanging down to her shoulders, laid patient and still. Seemingly not even daring to move with the light spring breeze.

Eve having softly puffed. Letting out the very last ounce of air from her lungs. Only then when her ritual was finally over had she opened her eyes wide with excitement, like the lucky children of earth, who’d witnessed a Christmas tree filled with presents on a snowy Christmas morning. There’d been a pause. Her little hands brought the dandelion stem closer to her eyes, like a scientist examining a strange object under his microscope. She’d let out a gentle sigh with a twinkle of hope, as a few dandelion grains had hung on to the stem, not wanting to part, be it for a wish of a little girl or other.

Eve’s ritual just the same as always. Her wish unknown to her parents for now. Even though they’d both naively suspected a new bike for her coming up fifth birthday, only two weeks away. Although only two small translucent dandelion grains, having stayed clutched to the flower stem. Eve being full of hope and optimism. Her cute croaky voice having shouted out loud with excitement.

Look Mummy, look Daddy, only two are still stuck. My wish will soon be granted, said Eve.

Jon played along, like always. Part of him even unwillingly locked away his mysterious first encounter with his magical Johanna and her estranged cavern, like the sweet flavour of a ripped fruit. Still somewhere within his senses. But placed aside until the maturity of such mellifluousness would be tasted again.

Anew, he’d curiously wondered if anybody’s wish could simply come true if they simply managed to puff away every last grain of a dandelion. Something which proved a lot harder to do then he’d first expected. Johanna laughing at him, with tears in her eyes. Watching him frantically puff at the frail feather head, as fragile and vulnerable, like a ship alone in the middle of the ocean whilst a gigantic whirl winding, raging storm, blowing with all its might to turn the ship over.

Jon almost spitting at times with his shear force. Johanna, with a gentle hand picked out a perfectly round diaphanous metamorphosed dandelion. Raising it cautiously to her mouth, like she was going to kiss a new-born baby. Reminding Jon compassionately.

Jon it’s not from the strength of how hard you puff. First you have to close your eyes. Then take a deep breath. Think of your wish. And then gently stream against the dandelions aura as if you are secretly whispering your yearning to every grain on the flower. Your desire has to come from within your heart and soul. And if the very last dandelion grain should detach itself along with all the others. Your wish will come true, said Johanna.

Jon more controversially replied.

What if someone wishes for something bad, or evil?

Johanna true to her beliefs, having felt his growing doubts, having gently placed her right palm against his handsome stubble face, like one of Leonardo’s chiselled statues. Looked straight into his dark green smiling eyes with his magnificent long eyelashes. The beating sun having softened his dark short black hair. With her same loving gesture, she’d moved her hand placing it upon Jon’s heart. His shirt slightly opened revealing his muscular bare chest and the top of his abdominals. She’d smiled with her turquoise eyes and simply confidently replied.

Then the last grain of the dandelion will never blow away. Never, said Johanna.

Johanna still believing good would always prevail over evil. Even though sickeningly knowing, bad and evil wishes had already been granted.

A wish doesn’t always have to be for yourself. A wish can be for anybody, said Johanna. Having spoken in a more positive commanding voice.

Suddenly, the sound of the alarms from her life support machine bringing Jon’s drifting dreams to a harsh reality. Jon now terrifyingly watching doctors and nurses scramble around his beloved wife. Fighting an unknown force and spirit as he stood back. He was more in a daze not having slept for hours, even days. It was like he was watching everything in slow motion. And as much as his heart was aching, screaming that his beloved Johanna would live. His soul already knew she was gone from his world.

Her once stunning long red curly hair having already faded with her death. Her slender face still as beautiful as ever with her tulip lips and big turquoise eyes, having lost its living lucent. No more natural rosy cheeks. Even her tiny cute orange freckles on each side of her dimpled nose having faded into greyish pallor. Johanna’s eyes still wide open as the doctor called out the time of her death.

1:13 a.m.

No sooner had he done so the nurses already unplugging and clearing away the machines in a room bare from warmth and emotion. Jon staring at his beloved wife. Tears of immense pain strolling down his face, like an overflowing sink dripping to the floor. Unexpectedly, he witnessed a magical moment. For even though life having seemingly left his beautiful wife. Her eyes gently closing before him and a gentle smile befell upon her face, as if she was telling him she’s was now in a wonderful place and at peace. Maybe with their daughter Eve.

Eve having died six days earlier. Johanna’s heroic act to save their child having brought upon her, her grievous injuries and six days of agonising torture. Not only from her wounds but also from the knowledge. Eve had been taken from them. A moment her angels had turned a blind eye, maybe because they were too busy elsewhere trying to save others from mankind’s growing hate and constant evil intentions. Or maybe, because they just didn’t care anymore, simply allowing humanity’s greatest gift of free-will to be expressed; no matter what the cost.

Johanna’s suffering having been intensified. Knowing she would be leaving Jon alone with such horrific trails of life to live with. An inner scare so deep, she’d secretly constantly asked herself.

How would he ever heal?

How could he ever forgive?

Chapter 2

A Fatal Day

It was now Saturday the 16 May 2015. Johanna having blessed the earth with her caring, loving, sincere and magnificent personality and presence for 33 years 10 months 17 hours 44 minutes and 13 seconds. She’d blessed Jon’s life for 6 years 7 months 18 hours 39 minutes and 45 seconds. Every single moment bringing him nothing but ecstatic happiness.

Jon standing in a trance. He could see the doctors and nurses talking to him but their words were not understandable, as though they were gabbing from afar in some bizarre foreign language. Mumbling words were echoing at him, like he was in a dark tunnel under the ground somewhere. Jon allowing his zombie state body to be gently escorted out of the cold pale hospital room. Scraping his feet against the floor, as though nearly all his force having left his physique.

Turning his head, one last time to look at his beloved, Johanna. A nurse softly placing the bed sheet over her head. Jon witnessing the torturing scene causing him to scream out his immense pain, as though some almighty force was crushing down on is body. His powerful tears and shrieks could be heard even in the heavens above. And the hell below.

No! She’s still alive. No please God, no please, screamed Jon.

At the same instant, his once almighty force leaving him out of sheer exhaustion, as though his painful cries emptied the very last ounce of energy within his body. Collapsing inertly onto the cold tiled hospital floor, like a warrior stabbed directly in the heart.

As Jon unconsciously slept, a mystic force whispered seemingly direct into his wounded heart.

Forgive Jon. You must forgive, said the murmuring voice. Adding.

For Eve’s wish to come true. You must forgive, said the voice.

Jon awaking with a harsh jolt. Finding himself laid in a neat hospital bed, a drip hanging from his left arm, a hospital gone jacketing his nudity. For a tiny instance, he’d forgotten the last week’s events. But only seconds later, like a sabre sword being slowly pushed into his aching heart reminding him of every single agonising moment. The blade seemingly entering deeper into his anatomy as his mind quickly filled with the recent knowledge and memories of his real life nightmares.

His grieving pain causing him to keel over, as though his once dynamic force had been drained out of him. Laying against the mattress, turning onto his right side crumpled into a defenceless foetus form. His mind reminiscing about his unique Johanna and their innocent daughter, Eve. Immense tears filling his eyes, like a river bursting its banks. Jon’s once perfect life flashing through his mind causing a torturing agony to burst from his heart and volcanic anger to occupy his soul.

How can I forgive? How? whispered Jon weakly.

God if you truly exist. Take me away, bring me to my wife and daughter. I beg you, said Jon, with the same feeble voice. But the God, Jon cried out to never answering him. Leaving him only with his emptiness, pain, hurt and overflowing rising anger.

As the days went by, life for all those around him seemingly carried on as normal. Jon released from the hospital with a few tablets and a telephone number of a psychologist, along with Johanna’s precious book. Still in a second state of mind he hadn’t noticed the image of the women had now strangely faded. Because of the circumstances in Johanna’s and Eve’s death, their bodies couldn’t be released until a full autopsy pending police investigations had been completed. Not even Johanna’s will to donate her organs could be fulfilled.

Eve had been killed along with five others and Johanna seriously injured, one beautiful sunny May afternoon in a small picturesque town with colourful arched architectural history bursting with vibrant colours. Large modern buildings in total balance with the old village, like newer-younger generations respectfully standing by their forefathers. Huge and diminutive different size windows peering out onto the neat and clean cobbled streets. Flower beds and hanging baskets exploding with diverse pigments, approaching nature’s sublime floral harmony, to the surrounding stones and monuments.

The village only twelve kilometres from their home in the south of Germany. Johanna decided at the very last minutes to call into the town centre. Wanting to buy Jon his favourite lamb steaks. As families, couples, children all happily carried on with their daily chores. Oblivious that a young twenty-three year old local boy with a profound hate only known to himself. Choosing to project this aversion on his home town, shooting in every direction in a frenzy. Nothing or nobody seemed to be targeted directly.

With every trigger squeeze on his automatic rifle incomprehensive hatred and evil having been impacted out of him. Carried by every heinous life hurtling bullet. Eve having been the second and the youngest to have been killed. She’d died slowly wearing her new favourite blue and yellow summer dress, Jon and Johanna having only recently discussed, just how long it would last with Eve growing so fast.

Eve found stained with the blood of murder, dripping from her tiny innocent lifeless body. Her right hand still clutching a white grain dandelion, she’d only seconds earlier plucked out of one of the towns many flower beds. Eve preparing to puff her wish seconds before the shots were fired. The shock of her fall causing the seeds to blow away, as though they themselves were trying to escapes the young man’s abhor.

Her left hand still clenching onto her special teddy bear. Her first gift from Mummy and Daddy only hours after she’d blessed their lives with her miraculous birth. Beddy as she had named her teddy. Unable to pronounce her T, s properly until she was nearly two and a half, discovered laid under her tiny chest. Eve’s final innocent gesture trying to protect Beddy from the nefarious bullets.

She’d died along with a young local boy the same age as the killer. His desire for an ice cream on a hot May sunny afternoon costing him his life. Hans had prepared himself for hours in the bathroom. Making sure every inch of his slick dark hair was in the right position. Causing his younger sister Hannah to tease him about how much more time he spent then her preparing himself. Even though Hans was only in theory going for an ice cream.

He’d dressed himself in his favourite Levi’s jeans and white Armani shirt. Secretly hoping, wishing to find love at any time. Hans took over ten minutes to die. Holding on to a beautiful girl’s hand. Her blue eyes and straight blond hair, flowing in the breeze like rippling waves. Her tender words, like a virtual angel, having given him every reason to desperately grasp onto life. The last words he’d heard were.

Hold on, you’ll make it and that way you’ll buy me that drink you promised me, said the young beautiful blonde girl.

Hans not remembering he’d courageously offered to buy such a beautiful mademoiselle a drink. But the hope kept him bravely hanging on. His body shot near the heart, life eventually slipping from him. As his eyes ultimately closed with death. His aura seemingly having been bestowed with a peaceful harmony. His soul just before his passing having been filled with immense faith. The young girl had told authorities after. As Hans’s last breathe had gently sighed out of his body, that he’d smiled with his eyes and she’d seen a mauve white image rise tall, like a spiralling cloud