Chapter 1 : The mysterious message
Holding his girlfriend against him, Dante sat underneath a tree enjoying a beautiful autumn day.
He was just writing a poem on his smartphone, when a message from an unknown number appeared on the screen. Inside, he was already laughing. This must come from Jeroen, he thought.
Ever since primary school, they had been best friends. They used to pull pranks, which Jeroen usually made up. He was a master at pulling pranks. And whether he would ever unlearn it? Dante questioned that. Jeroen could very well become a great comedian. Last summer, they went to an open stage together. Dante had insisted that Jeroen should also perform something. At first he didn’t have the guts, but after Dante kept insisting, he gave in and he entered the stage. He had displayed a clever piece of comedy to the audience there. Everyone was in stitches. They loved him! According to Jeroen, who was always modest when it came to compliments, it was not all that bad, but Dante knew better.
Thinking of Jeroen’s jokes, he opened the message and read:
Yes, typical Jeroen to pull such a prank. Dante started typing back, but when he pressed send, his phone indicated a block. The bastard thought that through, he thought. How does he do it? Shaking his head, he went through his call list until he saw Jeroen’s name and he started the conversation:
Suddenly, Dante got a stuffy feeling. If it wasn’t Jeroen, who was it? What did this person want from him? And what did the messenger mean by well spoken?
Repeatedly he read the message, looking for any clues. The more often he reread it, the greater the mystery became. And strangely, the message started to feel more bleak.
Stop sharing your poems. Well spoken. Well spoken! Who could it be? He brooded and brooded.
‘What’s with the serious face?’ He was startled by the voice and almost dropped his phone from his hands. For a moment, he had forgotten that his girlfriend was also there. He looked up and conjured a smile.
‘Oh well, Jeroen, you know him. Him with his stupid jokes, ‘ he lied.
‘Boys will be boys,’ she said teasingly, sticking her tongue out at him.
Theatrically, Dante clutched at his heart as if deeply hurt and sobbed: ‘That hurts me very deeply.’
‘Asshole!’ she said, laughing, as she punched him on the arm.
‘Ooh, getting kinky?’ he said with a challenging look and he kissed her.
They had been together for almost a year and since Misha was in his life, he had stopped doing drugs and started focusing more on writing poetry. In that respect, she had saved him and he was very grateful to her for that.
The days went by. Dante forgot the whole message and wrote poems which he posted on social media. He thoroughly enjoyed himself; his girlfriend, his friends, life.