{"id":11790,"date":"2017-06-23T09:53:17","date_gmt":"2017-06-23T07:53:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=11790"},"modified":"2021-09-04T12:09:20","modified_gmt":"2021-09-04T10:09:20","slug":"black-helloween-eyes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=11790","title":{"rendered":"Black Helloween Eyes"},"content":{"rendered":"

by \u0218tefan Bolea<\/a><\/p>\n

translation from Romanian by A.C. Clarke and Alina-Olimpia Miron<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong>Another day, as dark as invisible ink on black paper or the shadow that lurks in the mirror after one\u2019s features have faded from view. Horatio went out to return some books to the British Council and it looked as if all his fellow townsmen were aiming to compete with Tod Browning\u2019s Freaks<\/em>, though perhaps not openly. Horatio said to himself \u2018perhaps not openly\u2019 as it wasn\u2019t clear whether everything was in his head, whether, in other words, his inner world was messed up or whether this was actually real. There was something drooling and insistent about people, like invalids who seem to want to blame you for their infirmities. Watching them, Horatio thought he could be looking at a carnival of madmen from the middle ages. Nevertheless, there was nothing really out of the ordinary in their behaviour: they were the same pensioners whining for the sacks of food offered by OTV1<\/sup>, the same greasy, unshaven and sleazy day labourers cadging a cig in false humility or, by contrast, the so-called gentlemen with their sheer arrogance, who seemed to be saying \u201cMy tombstone will say Pr. Dr. Eng. Pedrescu and my epitaph will be in Latin.\u201d A stark arrogance which proclaimed that, in their eyes, the battle had already been lost.<\/p>\n

The day had something unusual in it, even though it seemed the same as any other day. On the one hand, Horatio was used to urban toing-and-froing and to the sheer aimlessness that directed the crowds with an almost mathematical precision. Everyone seemed to be carrying a briefcase, speeding towards an unknown destination. Where to? Nobody knew\u2026 On the other hand, the young man felt the all too familiar (to him) symptoms of a panic attack which he tried to counter by rationalising his growing inner turmoil. \u201cWhat am I so afraid of? If I get angry, I\u2019ll thwack everyone, just like Beethoven with his cane!\u201d Apart from the fact that tachycardia is extremely irksome (instead of a heart you feel like you have a butterfly with 50,000 wings flapping inside you), he felt a raven\u2019s claw grab his neck, then dig into his larynx and drill a hole in it so he could breathe. \u201cThat\u2019s it! Breathe through your nose! Slowly count to 10, then pause and then count again from 1, as Zen monks do.\u201d The breathing trick worked for a while, until he arrived at the British Council. He returned the books, looked around a bit and decided not to borrow anything.<\/p>\n

When he was out in the street, anxiety seized him yet again. Nightfall proved no comfort to his state of mind. \u201cThey have it in for me, they want to kill me\u2026\u201d he heard himself think. They\u2019re all talking about me and they know who I am. They all know me, they even know these thoughts. My thoughts. Nothing belongs to me anymore\u201d, he went on. Although he realized that only a tiny fraction of these thoughts was likely to be true, he couldn\u2019t help voicing his real fears, however deluded they were. \u201cI have to hurry home\u201d. He searched his pockets. \u201cWhere\u2019s that Xanax when you really need it?\u201d\u2026 Once he reached the boulevard, something in people\u2019s mood seemed irretrievably altered. Horatio was aware his perception was probably affected by his heightened anxiety, as it hit a deeper level, but \u2026 was that really the case?<\/p>\n

Besides, his fellow townsmen seemed more aggressive, often elbowing him aside or throwing him hostile looks. Usually, when this happened in reality, adrenaline would take over and the young man would try to overcome a fundamental contempt and to \u201celbow his way\u201d, like C\u0103t\u0103lin2<\/sup> or the ill-favoured wanderer who, to be blunt, had Darwinian skills and would have got by in any type of jungle. Now he felt powerless, as if his hands were tied, as if a voodoo quack had him on a leash and were walking him around, calling \u201cHere, boy, here. Good boy! No, no, don\u2019t do that, you idiot!\u201d It was crystal-clear: the world was looking at him with hatred, a hatred stemming from the simple, normal man\u2019s feeling of solidarity when faced with a lunatic, a hatred confirmed by thousands of chains whipping his face. \u201cThis time I\u2019m really going insane. Perhaps a word should be invented for madness after madness\u201d, the man said to himself, allowing himself a philological diversion once he had arrived in Matei3<\/sup>, right next to the cathedral. He probably realized that anxiety is multi-layered, but what comes next when you keep on going down?<\/p>\n

Troubled by his horrible state of mind, but even more by the staggering metamorphosis of the crowds, Horatio thought he should hurry home. He went past Sora4<\/sup>, towards M\u0103r\u0103\u015fti5<\/sup>, on 21 decembrie6<\/sup>, which, surprisingly, wasn\u2019t that busy. An old lady with a kind face was as close as possible to smacking him with her handbag. The boy had overheard her talking to her partner: \u201cAwful\u2026awful drunkenness\u201d. \u2013 \u201cThis isn\u2019t drunkenness, dear, it\u2019s something much worse\u2026\u201d Somebody threw a flower pot from a balcony. It landed right in front of him. When he looked up, he saw only a curtain fluttering. \u201cCurfew, I don\u2019t think I\u2019m going to reach home\u201d, he whispered. He sheared off to Iuliu Maniu7<\/sup>, an almost deserted street, thinking he was more or less safe, \u201cunless the elements themselves start attacking me\u201d.<\/p>\n

He calmed down a bit and slowed his pace: it felt as if fear was leaking out of his body in waves. Fear of fear of fear of fear\u2026 After the psychological stress he had suffered in the middle of the crowds which seemed to want to lynch him, he now felt something like a crown above his head; as if he had gone through hell and had somehow succeeded in overcoming it. He saw a desolate summer garden in a yard, close to Avram Iancu8<\/sup> and stopped for a smoke, looking in fascination at the ivy. He didn\u2019t realize how much time had actually passed (he had smoked two, perhaps three cigarettes?), but when he began walking home again, night had already fallen. He was much calmer, almost serene even, and his gait had something light-hearted in it.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, he realized he was lost. Here I was supposed to exit Avram Iancu Square, but, hell if I know, it seems as if I\u2019m in M\u0103n\u0103\u015ftur9<\/sup> or in another town. He had heard of senile people getting lost in town, but not of a 25-year-old from Cluj10<\/sup>. \u201cKeep going\u201d, he told himself, \u201cat least out of curiosity\u201d. He seemed to be on a street headed westward, towards Oradea11<\/sup>, in the opposite direction from his destination. \u201cThen I should go back\u201d. After a highly confusing half hour, during which he smoked almost the entire pack and passers-by were either absent or completely indifferent (which allowed him to think the whole incident, except this stupid wandering, had been only a figment of his imagination), he finally got to Iuliu Maniu St. \u201cBut that\u2019s where I started off. I can\u2019t figure this out.\u201d<\/p>\n

He passed by the bookshop, the electronics store, the summer garden where he had calmed down (and also got lost!) and he arrived in front of the Church in Avram Iancu Square. Utter stupefaction. The entire square was chockfull of people armed with candles (just like those for Easter, but the next day would be the first of November!) and they were all staring right at him. The crowd exhaled a heavy, fetid breath and Horatio stopped dead: in front of him were no people, but demons reincarnated in people. Their eyes were all black, not just the iris, but also the whites and when they grinned, you could see their sharp fangs suppurating with slime. At first, Horatio couldn\u2019t work out the source of the rumbling he heard. But soon he realised that it came from this mass of people, not growling like a pack of wolves, but humming like a swarm of locusts. Suddenly, silence fell. All at once, the eyes of the crowd turned towards the church. Very calm, Horatio took advantage of the fact that the flock of people hadn\u2019t ganged up on him and slowly retreated back to his starting point, the intersection with Maniu. A brief gasp came from the loudspeakers and a smoker\u2019s voice intoned: \u201cWe have gathered here, in the heart of the necropolis, in my name. Bring thy offering, brothers\u201d. The masses lifted the candles above their shoulder and sang such a hearty Amen!<\/em> you could feel the pavement shaking. \u201cIn my name\u201d, continued the chain-smoker on a less formal note, \u201cget that bastard!\u201d<\/p>\n

The crowd threw down the candles and prepared for the attack, in a frenzy like that of U Cluj12<\/sup> fans, when they hit CFR13<\/sup>\u2019s goalpost. The young man \u2013 his frame of mind quite rational, considering the circumstances – darted from Maniu towards Matei (a route he had become accustomed to). All he could hear behind him was Get him! Smash his face! Bash it in! and the pestilential smell catching up with him seemed to give him wings. He passed Matei, then BCU14<\/sup> and in a few minutes was in M\u0103n\u0103\u015ftur. At one point, he felt a blow to the shoulder and fell to the ground. Another one: \u201cStand up, you hobo! And get the hell out of here\u201d. He was in the summer garden, where he had spent the night, and the gatekeeper was poking him with a broom: his backpack, wallet, library card were all gone; all he had left was an empty cigarette pack. \u201cI\u2019m going, I\u2019m going\u201d, said Horatio, a bit light-headed, \u201cGive me a cig.\u201d \u201cHaven\u2019t got any\u201d. Cigarette butts lay strewn around him. \u201cMan, what were you smoking here?\u201d \u201cOh, give me a break\u201d – Horatio cut him short and at last headed for home. It was a sunny, even a hot day for autumn and the cheerful scene seemed to dispel any nightmares. He hastened towards Avram Iancu, failing to notice the gatekeeper\u2019s growl and his pitch black eyes.<\/p>\n

\n

#<\/strong>\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

NOTES<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

1 OTV<\/strong> –\u00a0is a\u00a0Romanian\u00a0TV channel owned by\u00a0Dan Diaconescu.<\/p>\n

2 C\u0103t\u0103lin<\/strong> \u2013 is a character (a cupbearer) in Mihai Eminescu\u2019s poem, Luceaf\u0103rul<\/em> (The Evening Star<\/em>).<\/p>\n

3 Matei<\/strong> (Matei Corvin) \u2013 is the central square of Cluj-Napoca.<\/p>\n

4 Sora<\/strong> \u2013 is a shopping centre in Cluj-Napoca.<\/p>\n

5 M\u0103r\u0103\u015fti<\/strong> \u2013 is a district in\u00a0Cluj-Napoca.<\/p>\n

6 21 decembrie<\/strong> \u2013 is a boulevard in Cluj-Napoca.<\/p>\n

7 Iuliu Maniu<\/strong> \u2013 is a street in Cluj-Napoca.<\/p>\n

8 Avram Iancu<\/strong> \u2013 is a square in Cluj-Napoca.<\/p>\n

9 M\u0103n\u0103\u015ftur<\/strong> \u2013 is a district in\u00a0Cluj-Napoca.<\/p>\n

10 Cluj<\/strong> (Cluj-Napoca) \u2013 a town in Romania.<\/p>\n

11 Oradea<\/strong> \u2013 a town in Romania.<\/p>\n

12 U <\/strong>(Universitatea) Cluj<\/strong> \u2013 is a Romanian professionalfootball\u00a0club\u00a0from\u00a0Cluj-Napoca, founded in 1919 by\u00a0Iuliu Ha\u021bieganu.<\/p>\n

13 CFR<\/strong> \u2013\u00a0is a Romanian professional\u00a0football\u00a0club\u00a0from the city of\u00a0Cluj-Napoca\u00a0in\u00a0Transylvania, Romania (‘CFR’ stands for\u00a0C\u0103ile Ferate Rom\u00e2ne\/ Romanian Railway Network).<\/p>\n

14 BCU<\/strong> (Lucian Blaga Central University Library) \u2013 is an academic library in Cluj and one of the oldest and most important libraries of its kind in Romania.<\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

by \u0218tefan Bolea translation from Romanian by A.C. Clarke and Alina-Olimpia Miron \u00a0Another day, as dark as invisible ink on black paper or the shadow that lurks in the mirror after one\u2019s features have faded from view. Horatio went out to return some books to the British Council and it looked as if all his […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1286,77],"tags":[665,304,1287,1123,39,312],"class_list":["post-11790","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-51","category-english","tag-a-c-clarke","tag-alina-olimpia-miron","tag-egophobia-51","tag-english","tag-stefan-bolea","tag-translation"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-34a","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11790","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=11790"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11790\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13776,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11790\/revisions\/13776"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=11790"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=11790"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=11790"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}