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Thread: Lost souls

  1. #126

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    21 July 2002



    The Armytage Hospital was located in a nice, quiet parkland in the Leeds countryside.

    The different buildings, none of them taller than three stories, were arranged in a semicircle, each facing the beautiful 17th century stone fontain that gave its name to the domain.

    A few patients were wandering in the park or sat at tables in the shade with their visitors or nurses, enjoying the mild July warmth.

    It was Chloe who had insisted, against the wishes of the club, that Andy should be treated here, for it was closer to her home and she could spend more time whith him.

    His room was located at the second floor in House A, the smaller one and the closest to the forest. In this early evening, with the curtains drawn, it was in semi-obscurity and it was so silent you'd be forgiven for thinking it was empty.

    Two people were inside however. Andy was lying immobile on his back, eyes closed, on a bed placed in the middle of the room.

    Close to him, Chloe had fallen asleep, curled up on a rollaway bed that the hospital had brought for her. She was still the beautiful girl Andy had fallen in love with but she had lost some weight and, without any makup, she looked sad and tired.

    On a small table near the window, a newspaper laid open. In the middle of the page, next to an advertisement for a farm equipment supplier, a headline read "Huddersfield Town AFC unveil Chris Kamara as their new manager."

    Outside, the sun was setting down on Great Britain.

    ***End of part 2***

  2. #127

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    Hoping it's an intermission between jobs and that mr Diego is going to a new club down the road. Hopefully one from his native Columbia

    See I worked it out, his name is Diego and he is coke head - therefore he is Columbian. That or he is just a big fan of carbonated sugar drinks.

    So many dang questions, so little answers.

  3. #128

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    Quote Originally Posted by ZanSnake View Post
    Hoping it's an intermission between jobs and that mr Diego is going to a new club down the road.
    I think it's way too premature to talk about getting a new job.

    Andy/Diego is in a coma. We don't even know if he'll be able to get out of it. And if he is, we have no idea to which extent his capabilities will be affected.

    Maybe he won't even remember what football is

    Quote Originally Posted by ZanSnake View Post
    Hopefully one from his native Columbia

    See I worked it out, his name is Diego and he is coke head - therefore he is Columbian. That or he is just a big fan of carbonated sugar drinks.
    I can tell you that Andy/Diego was born in Montevideo, Urugay.

    Quote Originally Posted by ZanSnake View Post
    So many dang questions, so little answers.
    I know. It's frustrating

    I'm afraid you'll need to be patient…

    In any case thanks to you and Včrkűh for your support, following/commenting this story.
    Last edited by LucasGills; 04-08-19 at 05:26 PM.

  4. #129

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    Quote Originally Posted by LucasGills View Post
    In any case thanks to you and Včrkűh for your support, following/commenting this story.
    It works like a drug to me and I can't wait to see what you have in store for us next

  5. #130

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    Quote Originally Posted by LucasGills View Post
    I think it's way too premature to talk about getting a new job.

    Andy/Diego is in a coma. We don't even know if he'll be able to get out of it. And if he is, we have no idea to which extent his capabilities will be affected.

    Maybe he won't even remember what football is



    I can tell you that Andy/Diego was born in Montevideo, Urugay.



    I know. It's frustrating

    I'm afraid you'll need to be patient…

    In any case thanks to you and Včrkűh for your support, following/commenting this story.
    Time is irrespective when it comes to ChampMan We've all been stuck in a beautiful limbo, playing this game that in the real form has been around for nearly 18 years. Surely, that passage could occur to let us experience what may come.

    As long as stories like yours exist here, the better man. I, personally, prefer these kinds of stories over the other kinds as it just adds a little something over the other kinds. Plus, well done on sticking with it. I don't mean that in no sarcastic, or ill-way, just there's a lot of abandoned stories here that started off with such a flurry but died unexpectedly because of the user/author just going to the black.

    If this is the end, that well done my friend for an intriguing story and hopefully we shall see more in future

  6. #131

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    It's not the end, far from it.

    There are still large parts of the story, notably about Andy/Diego's past, that are written in my head but need to be "translated" here.

    I'm making a pause though. Not sure if it's best to close this thread and continue in another. What's the usage here ?

  7. #132

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    It started with a smell.

    A smell he knew, a smell he used to cherish, was floating around in his brain.

    It took him a while but he eventually managed to put a name on it:

    "Oranges."

    He could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.

    "This is the smell of... ripening oranges, like the ones we had in our garden in... in...".

    He couldn't remember the name of the place but it evoked sweet, albeit confused, memories.

    The smell was stronger now and other aromas had started to mix with it. He could identify tangerines, melons, peaches...

    As if he hadn't done it for ages, he carefully opened his eyes.

    At first, he was blinded by the light but his eyes slowly adjusted to it. Looking around him, he realised he stood in the same garden he'd dreamt of some time ago. He recognised the trees and the beautiful plants, he could smell the scents of fruits and flowers and he felt the same gentle breeze on his face.

    He took a few cautious steps, looking at everything in wonder and was suddenly overwhelmed by his emotions. He sat down under an orange tree, closed his eyes and started relaxing in the evening sun.

    After a while, he looked up in the distance and spotted the path he'd used the first time. Standing up slowly he decided to follow it.

    The ground was soft and he could feel the grass caress his bare feet as he walked along the little track.

    When he entered a woods, the mist came back out of nowhere and thickened quickly. His mood started to shift and after a couple of minutes he felt anxious, as if he knew what he would find at the end of the path. A sense of deja vu flooded him and his body started to shake.

    After a last curve he finally reached the end of the woods and his gaze searched frantically through the mist for what he knew was laying a few feet ahead. Suddenly he froze.

    The bridge was gone.

    And in a second, in a fraction of a second, it all came back to him.

    Collapsing on his knees, tears rolling down his face, Andy began to scream her name.
    Last edited by LucasGills; 08-05-20 at 02:06 PM.

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  9. #133

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    Good to see you back mate

  10. #134

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    Quote Originally Posted by Redknapp69 View Post
    Good to see you back mate
    Thanks Redders

    Been having a hard time at work, with little time to play/write.

    Not sure I'll be able to post very often but I'll do my best to keep this story alive.

    Hope everybody is fine around here

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  12. #136

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    Quote Originally Posted by samsami View Post
    Hope this same goes for your other story, Storia di tutti i giorni: Foggia Calcio!
    Hi mate

    I don't think this will happen in a near future, no.

    If someone wants the save though (Redders hinted at that some time ago) just ask me.

    I take this occasion to apologize to you and other authors here if I don't visit/comment your stories. Simply don't have the time right now

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  14. #137

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    Esperanza Maria Conchita Perez woke up with a start.

    The Argentinian nurse had had a heavy day, ending with the preparation of the evening meal due to the illness of José the cook, and she was sleeping soundly in her little room on the ground floor.

    Something unusual had woken her but she had no idea what it was. She took a look at the alarm clock and noticed it was half past three in the morning.

    She listened closely but heard nothing special. Slightly anxious though, she decided to have a look down the corridor, outside her room. Sitting down on the side of her bed, she put on her slippers.

    And right when she was about to get up, she heard it.

    Someone was screaming. So desperately, so painfully, that her blood ran cold.

    Realising it may be one of the children, she quickly put on a shawl and hurried into the corridor. She was turning right to go upstairs where the kids rooms were located when, to her amazement, she heard the scream coming from her left.

    She stopped dead and turned her head to that direction, almost in slow motion.

    "Nobody sleeps over there..." she thought. "There... there must be an intruder in the house."

    She froze at this thought but right at this moment Luis, the old gardener, popped up beside her.

    "What's that noise ?" he croaked.
    "Looks like someone's screaming over there." she answered with a terrified voice, pointing to the end of the corridor. "Someone must have crept in, don't know how."

    His eyes widened suddenly.

    "Esperanza, did you check the blue room ?"

    And without waiting for an answer, he headed to that direction. The Argentinian nurse, split between her fear and her duty, wavered for a second before quickly joining him.

    Another scream resounded and this time Esperanza thought she had heard a word, a name maybe: "KOE", "KOLE" or something sounding like this.

    Once in front of the door, Luis seemed to hesitate for a second. But then he distinctly heard something else.

    Someone was sobbing inside.

    He grabbed the handle, slightly opened the door and, passing his hand through the opening, turned the switch on.

    Pushing the door open he then stepped inside the room, with Esperanza clutching to his shirt...

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  16. #138

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    The "Blue room" was a rather large rectangular space with a high ceiling and covered with a beautiful oak floor.

    The side opposite to the entry was almost entirely occupied by large bay windows which, during the day, provided a spectacular view on the garden and its numerous flowers and trees -orange trees, tangerine trees, apple trees and so many more.

    The walls were plastered with framed photographs, most of them of Huddersfield Town games: Doni Clarke scoring a last-gap equaliser at Gravesend in the League Cup, Andy and Joe Jordan embracing on the touchline after yet another goal from Ferdinand, skipper Eddie Youds lifting the Second Divison trophy and a tearful Andy carried in triumph by his players at the McAlpine Stadium.

    There was a large one of Andy shaking hands with a livid Arsene Wenger after Huddersfield had dumped Arsenal out of the FA Cup and even the famous one of Jordan kissing hard a linesman during the Gravesend drama -an "assault" for which the Scot was banned from touchline for two matches.

    In a corner of the room there was also a group of smaller photos that must have been taken out of a family album.

    Some of them were individual portraits but most were showing different groups of people, mainly smiling and visibly enjoying their comfortable life. A good number depicted typical moments of family life: Christmas, a baptism, lots of birthdays, young children mounting poneys and horses.

    Arguably the room was more white than blue but it took its name from a number of furnitures and fittings which were all of the same royal blue: the curtains, two cosy armchairs, different types of lamps and even a blue wooden desk.

    And finally, in a corner near the window, laid a medical bet.

    The shadow of Andy May half sat in it, his slimmed-down face wet from tears and looking exhausted by his own screams.

    Turning his head slowly towards the two people who stood petrified at the door, he murmured:

    "Where... is... this ?"

    And just before fainting he added:

    "Where is she ? Where is... Chloe ?"

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  18. #139

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    When he woke up again it was early morning.

    The room was bathed in a soft orange light. A sunbeam lit up the wall in front of him, pointing to a picture of Gary McAllister, eyes exorbited, his arms raised high in the sky after a glorious goal against Barnet in the Vans Tropy final.

    A woman with long brown hair was asleep on a chair, right against his bed, her head resting on her arms on the sheet.

    Slowly raising his left arm, he gently stroked her hair.

    "Chloe. You...is it you my love ?"

    At the sound of his voice the woman came out of her torpor and, taking his head in her hands, she answered softly:

    "No, I'm not Chloe. I'm Angela".

    And while the tears started to roll down her beautiful face, she added:

    "Welcome home Diego. Welcome home, my sweet brother."

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  20. #140

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    Nine days had passed.

    Andy, or "Diego Joachim von Schack" by his real name, was recovering slowly but steadily.

    Thanks to constant stimulation, daily physio exercises and the experimental use of electrodes during his coma, his body and brain were in suprisingly good shape.

    Sure he had lost more than one third of his weight at the time of the accident and his muscles ressembled violin strings. But he was there, alive, talking and smiling, overjoyed to be reunited with his sister in Montevideo again.

    They had frequent but short conversations, for he got tired fast and was suffering from severe headaches.

    He was constantly asking about Chloe and Angela did her best to hide how uneasy she was.

    She remained vague, telling him that she was trying to contact her but without success so far. Then that the young girl would call the next day. The next day she would say there had been a problem with the connection.

    Up to now she had also managed, on the advice of Dr Strauss, the family doctor, to dodge any questions about the current date and year.

    But as the days went by and the pieces started to fall into place in his brain, Diego became more and more insistent, asking more specific questions such as why he was in Montevideo and not in England, where were their parents, how did they find about him, and so on.

    He hadn't seen her sister for years but when he looked at her face, he also thought she looked tired and wrinkled.

    "Life's been hard on you little sister, hasn't it ?" he would ask with wet eyes. Remembering what he had done to her and his family as a whole, he would then try to hold her in his emaciated arms.

    Angela would invariably tell him that he needed to relax and to focus on his recovery. All his questions would be answered in due time, she would stress. But for a couple of days, he had become agitated and even slightly agressive with her.

    On the ninth day, looking at his brother's face with sad but firm eyes, she eventualy decided it was time to tell him the truth.

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  22. #141

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    "Diego ? Diego, now listen to me attentively" she started. "Uh... how old do you think I am ?"

    Staring at the ceiling, Diego thought about it for a while.

    "You're eight years younger than me, little sister. I'm... 38, so you must be 30 years old, are you ?"

    But, as soon as he had said that, he seemed to realise something. He turned his head towards her and his eyes gradually narrowed while he was studying her face.

    "How... how long exactly have I been... 'out' ?" he murmured.

    She took his hand tenderly in hers and, looking at him with all her love, she said:

    "Diego, look. Look at me. I celebrated my 47th birthday five days before you woke up."

    The realisation fell on him slowly.

    "Wait. This would mean I'm what... 54 ? 55 ? This can't be."
    "Unfortunately it can... Today is Friday, October 10, 2018."

    She made a pause, then went on:

    "I know it's hard to believe, Diego, but you stayed in a coma for... 16 years."

    He remained silent for a while, crushed by the enormity of what she had said.

    "What about Mum and Dad ?" he managed to ask.

    Angela hesitated but now that she'd started, she wanted to go through with it.

    "Dad died in 2009 of bowel cancer." she said. "Mum followed two years later. Some here believe she died from grief. They say she couldn't stand losing her husband on top of her son. I really don't know."

    He stood petrified by this spate of terrible news.

    Angela had told him that their parents were on a trip abroad and that she had now way of contacting them. The horrible feeling that all he knew was wrong was starting to down on him.

    "And... Chloe ?" Diego asked in a whisper.
    "We'll talk about that later, I don't..."
    "No, tell me ! Please !" he interrupted. "Sorry sister, didn't want to shout at you. But I really need to know. Please."

    Angela squeezed his hand tighter.

    "Chloe... she was admirable. For six years, she came to the clinic almost every day to be with you."

    She swallowed before continuing in a trembling voice.

    "But life is life, Diego. She slowly lost all hope you'd come back. One of her brother's friends, Tom, had been courting her for years. She... she resisted for a long time..."

    Now she had tears in her eyes.

    "Angela, please... go on."
    "Chloe, she... she's married. She lives in Bradford and she's got two lovely children, Patricia and... Diego. I'm so sorry."

    Taking is hand away from hers, he looked away and stared fixedly at the ceiling again.

    "I... I thank you, Angela. Thank you for telling me the truth. It must have been so hard for you. Now please, would you leave me alone ?"
    "Diego, I don't think..."
    "It's okay, little sister, don't worry. I just need to be alone. Please go now."

    She stood reluctantly and was slowly making her way to the door when he added:

    "Sister ? I love you".

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  24. #142

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    Thanks for your message, Lucas!

    It was just the push I needed to return to this site. I now have a whole lot of catching up to do

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  26. #143

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    Quote Originally Posted by Včrkűh View Post
    Thanks for your message, Lucas!

    It was just the push I needed to return to this site.
    Good to have you back on board, mate.

    Quote Originally Posted by Včrkűh View Post
    I now have a whole lot of catching up to do
    I hope you enjoy it !

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  28. #144

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    11 October 2018



    Diego was lying in his bed, like he was most of the time.

    Despite making good progress, he still couldn't walk without help. His legs were slowly returning to their normal shape but the muscles were too weak to support his own weight.

    Angela often took him to the garden in a wheelchair and he couldn't get enough of all the aromas that swirled around him. This was where he was the happiest, in this place where he had spent so many years in his youth.

    Today there would be no promenade around the garden, though. His spirits were low and he suffered from terrible migraine headaches.

    With difficulty, he poured himself a glass of water and took an Excedrin.

    He was mulling over what Angela had revealed. 2018, really ? This meant he had lost 16 years of his life, 16 years he would never recover.

    He grabbed the little mirror he'd asked Angela for and looked into it. His face was pale and emaciated, but he looked much younger than 55. 40 ? 45 maybe ? Did it matter anyway ?

    He was thinking about his parents. He had led them to believe he was dead. They had buried him, mourned him. And then, when they unexpectedly discovered he was alive, it was like he was dead.

    He couldn't talk to them, he couldn't explain what he had done, what he'd lived through and most of all why he had fled away from them.

    What were their thoughts when they found that he was alive, that he had built himself a new life, a happy life far from them ?

    Had he killed them too ?

    He was also thinking about Huddersfield Town AFC, his staff, his players, the brilliant promotion to the First Division.

    To him, it seemed it was yesterday. That was surely the hardest part of it all: the discrepancy between his own reality and the reality of the world he lived in now.

    Joe Jordan, Les Ferdinand, Doni Clarke... they all had lived 16 years without him. Where were they now ? What had they achieved ? Had Huddersfield survived in the First Division ?

    All these questions were going round and round in his head, increasing his headaches.

    But above all he was thinking about Chloe. He was thinking about what she must have endured. He imagined her, torn apart between her love for him and her desire to live her life, to found a family.

    He imagined the pressure her parents and friends must have put on her. She was a beautiful young girl, full of energy, and surely they must have thought she was wasting her time, waiting for an hypothetical wake-up.

    This had all happened because of him.

    He thought about that fateful night when he drove to Leeds to eventually reunite with her. He didn't remember all the details but he knew he'd been in a car accident.

    He replayed the images of that day over and over again in his head: the last game of the season, with a win at Stockport, the joyous return trip to Huddersfield, the anticipation of seeing Chloe again and being able to explain her all.

    He remembered he had got in his car in the staff parking lot at the McAlpine Stadium and then... it was a black hole.

    Again, it was an impossible task for his mind to comprehend that these events he had lived just a few days before had in fact taken place 16 years ago. That the woman who was so deeply in love with him yesterday was today waking up next to another man.

    He rubbed his temples for a while. His migraine was at its peak now but he resisted taking another Excedrin.

    He had made his decision.
    Last edited by LucasGills; 14-05-20 at 11:33 AM.

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  30. #145

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    12 October 2018



    It was five to nine and Diego was sitting in his bed, waiting patiently until he could take his own life.

    Every morning at nine o'clock sharp, Ernestina, the maid, began vacuuming the ground floor.

    He knew she always started at the bottom of the stairs leading to the upper floors. He also knew it took her around 10 minutes to reach the other end of the corridor and his room.

    By this time, Angela was on the road, driving home after dropping the children off at school. She would not be back before half past nine at best.

    And today was Friday. The nurse was never there on Fridays. It was her day off.

    Looking at the wall on his left, he noticed a picture that showed him standing up between his dad and mum, dressed in his university gown.

    It had been taken on the porch in front of this house. It was supposed to be a happy day but on the photo he looked distinctly uncomfortable and sad.

    Three to nine.

    A butterfly entered the room through the open window.

    It was rather small and had its wings delicatedly painted in glorious claret and amber.

    "Bradford City colours." he noticed.

    Probably scared by Diego's miserable appearance, the butterfly flew around desperately for a while before eventually settling on one of the curtains.

    Two to nine.

    Diego thought about Chloe, over there in Bradford. What was she doing right now ?

    Was she also dropping her children off at school before going to work ? Was she cooking ? Was she... making love with 'big Tom' ? He didn't know him, but in his head Chloe's man was inevatibly tall, handsome, with brown hair.

    "Fuck off, Tom."

    One to nine.

    He took the little mirror from the bedside table and, without even glancing into it, slipped it under the sheets.

    The butterfly started flying around the room again.

    For a split second, Diego pondered whether he should help it find its way back to freedom but then he remembered it was way beyond his current means. This made him laugh on the inside.

    Nine o'clock.

    He squeezed the mirror tighter in his hand, waiting for the noise of the vacuum to start.

    One past nine.

    He still couldn't hear anything coming from the hallway. He looked around for the butterfly but couldn't find it anywhere.

    Two past nine.

    What the f*** was Ernestina doing !? He mulled over reporting her to Angela for her lack of punctuality but renounced it when he heard the vacuum engine eventually start.

    He counted up to 30, just to be sure, and took the mirror out from under the sheets. Gathering his strength, he then struck the mirror on the bedside table as hard as he could.

    Given his weakened state, he had expected to have to make several attempts before he was able to break it but the glass instantly exploded in a thousand pieces, sending shards all over the table, his bed and the floor.

    What's the f*** !? he tought. With his heart beating furiously, he listened to see if anyone had heard the noise but the vacuum engine was still on and he couldn't hear anything else.

    He looked around him with despair. Indeed, he hadn't expected that at all: there were effectively hundreds of glass shards everywhere, but none of them were big enough to cut his wrists, let alone his throat.

    Noticing that the noise of the vacuum was closing in, he looked at the clock and saw it was seven past nine already. In five minutes Ernestina would open his door.

    He searched frantically through his bed sheets and, suddenly, his left hand felt something hard. Grasping the object carefully, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was a beautiful shard of glass, around 15 inches long.

    So, throat or wrists ? He had long debated this point the previous night and concluded that the throat was probably harder to slice but yielded a much faster result if you could reach the jugular vein. He had read that, with the wrists, it could take hours.

    He didn't have an hour so he pressed the shard against his neck on the left and took a deep breath.

    He was about to slice his throat open when he saw a shadow quickly approaching out of the corner of his eye and something hit his face hard, right between the eyes.

    He let out a little scream and, in a reflex move, brought his hands to his face to try and catch whatever had struck him. The glass shard escaped from his hand, bounced off his leg and fell to the ground out of his sight.

    "Stupid me !" he thought.

    Turning his sight back to his hands, he realised he'd caught something inside. He unfolded them precautiously and saw it was the small claret and amber butterfly. The poor insect was dead, its beautiful wings definitly closed, probably crushed or asphyxiated by the lack of air.

    He was looking at it with a mix of anger and pity when the door suddenly swung open and Ernestina appeared with a cell phone in her outstretched hand.

    He jumped and realised he hadn't noticed the noise of the vacuum had stopped.

    "A call for you from oversea, Mister Diego !" exclaimed the young maid.

    And while handing him the phone, she added in a lower tone:

    "A certain Chloe."
    Last edited by LucasGills; 15-05-20 at 11:34 AM.

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  32. #146

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    No way!

  33. #147

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    Quote Originally Posted by Včrkűh View Post
    No way!
    Saved by the flight of a butterfly…

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  35. #148

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    12 October 2018



    To say that Chloe and Diego had a conversation would be a gross exageration.

    Their reunion was so emotional that they could barely exchange a few words, the rest of the call being mostly filled with crying and sobbing.

    She inquired about his health, his morale -of course he lied when answering that one- and asked whether he was happy to be back at home in Montevideo, with Angela,

    He congratulated her on her marriage, her children, asked about her parents and Antoine and that was pretty all.

    They agreed he would return to England one day, when his health permitted, to visit her and meet her family.

    He resisted asking if she was happy in her new life, for he couldn't have stood any answer anyway.

    When he turned off the phone, after almost an hour, he felt so exhausted that he fell asleep almost instantly and slept for ten long hours.

    When he finally woke up, he saw that the room had been cleaned and, afterwards, nobody ever asked him what had happened.

    He was never given another mirror to replace the one he'd broken, though.
    Last edited by LucasGills; 16-05-20 at 03:54 PM.

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  37. #149

    Join Date
    07-02-19
    Location
    Vevey, CH
    Posts
    749
    vCash
    2300

    7 Februar 2019



    Four months had passed.

    The news that he'd come back from 16 years in coma had spread and suddenly everybody wanted to talk to him. As it was, only a 39 years old man from Arkansas, Terry Wallis, had woken up after more time out than him.

    He'd been interviewed by several medias and a lot of former Uruguyan friends but also players, staff members and even fellow managers of his time in England had contacted him. And each call, each message, each news from this country he'd loved so much helped him in his recovery, particularly on the mental side.

    He'd had several contacts with Joe Jordan, his former assistant at Huddersfield Town, and the Scotsman had been his very self: having learned the Terry Wallis story, the first thing he said was: "Couldn't even beat the record son, eh ?"

    During these conversations, he told him what had happened at Huddersfield Town and in English football in general during these last 16 years. Diego was amazed to learn that the Terriers were now plying their trade in Premier League but also that City were now the dominant force in Manchester.

    Jordan also informed him he'd been Technical Director at Bradford City AFC for the last two and a half years.

    The Bantams had been on a raising curve these last years, losing a League Cup Final against Swansea in 2013 and missing promotion to the Championship after a dramatic playoff final at Wembley in 2017 (a match I was at, by the way). They were having a hard time this season but he was confident they'd see it through.

    He insisted that Diego should come to see a match at Valley Parade and spend a few days at his home as soon as he could.

    And so, thanks to the support of all these people he had loved working and spending time with, Diego was feeling much better.

    Through his work in the gymn and the dedication of the medical staff hired by Angela, he had recovered more than eighty percent of his physical abilities.

    He was now able to walk on his own with the help of a cane and spent a lot of time wandering around the garden, talking with Angela or Dr Strauss.

    His sister had driven him downtown several times and he had enjoyed visiting all the places he had not seen for so long: his school, the little squares of Parque Rodo with their boliches where he used to hang out with his friends, the beaches of Pocitos, his campus, the little ground where he had started playing football.

    So far, Angela had not asked him any questions about why he had fled his family, his country and pretended to be dead but he knew he had to tell her all. He owed her that.

    And this morning, as they were enjoying a walk in the garden, he asked her to sit next to him on a small bench in the shade of the orange trees.

    The time had come to explain everything.

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  39. #150

    Join Date
    05-03-12
    Location
    Ribble Valley
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    vCash
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    I don't know why I didn't catch onto this earlier. Just finished the first page and loving it so far. Full of intrigue of plot(s) to come and some memories of past players.
    The artist formally known as The Eejit

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