Hektor Venturi

These are random snippets of diary entries by a fictional character. He calls himself Hektor Venturi and has in some ways a strange perception of the world around him.

One

This is how I remember after all the years that have passed since…

It was a cold and fresh morning, steamy clouds were coming from the sewers and all sounds were dampened as if cotton had been placed over my ears. My fathers hand on my shoulders, it trembled and felt heavy. We had been waiting for a very long time in front of our home, felt like an eternity when finally a mans back appeared in the doorframe, carrying the heavy burden of a wooden crest, a coffin. The smell of its freshly crafted wood crept over to where we standing, and stung my nose. A second man appeared within the doorframe, both their careful footsteps echoed in the narrow street we used to live in. They carried it to a nearby cart, I remember the horses waiting calmly as the crest was loaded on there. A click of a tongue and a flick of the reigns later and the sound of their hooves clattering across the pavement was heard. The noise turned unreal, almost painful, yet it was gone faster than my mind could comprehend.

„Come boy…“, my fathers hoarse sounding voice ripped me from my trance and made me avert my eyes from the corner the cart had disappeared behind. Without hesitation I followed him back into the small house we called home. I remember the house feeling empty, lifeless. Once my father had closed the door behind us I climbed onto one of the kitchen chairs… they seem huge in my memory, my feet didn’t even reach the floor. I stared at my father for some time, he avoided my gaze, I kept staring at him nonetheless as if that would force the answers from him. He remained leaning against the stove, staring at the wooden floor seemingly counting every scratch and spot on it. The silence was horrible, that kind of silence that becomes heavier with every minute passing. When he finally did say something it sounded heavy as if the words took a lot of will and effort to be formed without revealing too much emotional distress. 

„I’m going to head out for a bit. You be good, hm?“, that is all he said, he came walking over and ruffled my hair, and was out of the door before I could even nod or protest. I must’ve sat there for a little while longer before I dared get up to look out of the window. I know I was too small to reach it properly so I stood on my toes, for a while I watched the world outside until my feet hurt… 

I keep this memory trying to determine the exact point when it all turned to s***s. The memory of that day floats in my mind like a magicians glass ball, standing out from all other days as if it should tell me something. Looking back does not bring much it seems, looking forward is more of an option, then again, what lies ahead has been determined by what happened back then…. 

All I know by now is that I not only lost my mother that day, but also my father, my home and my identity… 

Two

I ran against a door whilst playing. 

That's what I am supposed to tell the Lady that comes by our house once a week to help father clean up. She looked at me all weird while I tried to explain how I ran down the stairs and slipped, decorating my story with fantastic detail. Once I finished she picked me up and sat me on my bed,  eyeing my face more closely, she looked straight at me, „What ya do to deserve tha eye, kid?“, she asked in a serious tone and quickly interrupted me as I tried to explain her again how that evil door got in my way. 

She told me to tell her right away if that useless drunk of a father I had dare hit me again and she’d take me to her place, to play with her children… adding that the doors in her house didn’t fancy beating up little kids.

I didn’t take her up on her offer… and kept running into doors and falling down stairs. I was such a clumsy child.

Three

I watched the children play on the street.

Every day they would be out there. Looking so cheerful.

I didn’t dare join… after coming home late one night and finding my father drowning in his own sick. 

Why did he do that? Shouldn’t he have known better? 

And again I was left to clean up the mess. 

I remember I developed the habit of moving quietly and careful, like a shadow, as if I could disappear that way. Pain turned to numbness. I think I didn’t speak to anyone for what felt an eternity. 

I woke up this one night, because I heard someone sneak through the house. At first I thought it was my father, but he was never quiet, he’d make the wooden floor shake when he walked. I was able to determine for how bad a beating I was in for just by the amount the floor shook when he came towards me. 

I got out of bed to see who was there, only to feel cold steel against my throat as I stepped out of my door. I remember freezing in shock, but nothing more. All other sounds had been taken from me. I stared into the darkness, there was someone there alright, holding that knife to my throat. A female voice told me to shut up and go back to bed, but I didn’t move… and after all this time words came out of my mouth again, pleading for her to kill me. The metal was removed and I remember her asking just one more question, „How old are ye kid?“

Four

I watched the children play on the street. 

From where I was sitting I had a good view over the street, enjoying some of my stolen bread and it felt ever so good. While other children attended school at my age, I roamed the streets, free of any bonds, not answering to anyone but my stomach. Hunger did sting at times, and the nights were bitter cold and dangerous. But I was free. The older kids watched over us, and I adapted quickly. I Called myself Hektor Venturi and the old me succeeded in disappearing. 

Five

I killed a man. 

I had to…

He was gonna squeal….

Snuck up on him, quick stab to the back of the knee made him fall so I could reach his throat. 

Funny how much blood we have in our bodies… and you can’t even see it from the outside…

Six

I definitely did kill that man… 

They respected me for it. That’s was not a toy dagger I had on my belt.

I could sense their changed behaviour. Like submissive rats, the flinched away from me. 

Made me feel annoyed… I was no longer a part of them somehow. We stole for a living, yes. We beat each other up, yes… but we never killed. I had broken an unspoken rule, we all knew this was going to end badly. And by avoiding my presence they tried avoiding the looming danger that seemed to hang around me now. Felt like being outlawed by the outlaws… I stuck around still because I had no other place to go.

Soon word reached us that the Royal Guard were looking for my gang. Those who could read deciphered the posters… They were looking for a murderer. Described him as a tall youth, armed and dangerous. Well that couldn’t have been me. I was small, twelve years old and certainly not all that dangerous… 

Seven

One night everyone seemed generally panicked… they had seen the Guard snooping around close to our hideout. They talked me into going to have a look and fight them off. Saying I had the skills l to take them on. I weren’t all too sure about it, they were armed trained soldiers after all. Not some farmer with a shotgun… 

Naturally it didn’t go so well, he saw me attack, cut my arm before I got to stab him in the eye. The memory of it makes me nauseous. I still hear that disgusting scream. Me and the others ran for it, I don’t know if I actually killed him.

I couldn’t use my left arm for a while, which sucked because I’m left-handed. 

Tried bandaging it, but of course it became infected, none of us knew how to clean a wound that deep. Hurt like a b***h too…

I don’t remember for how long I ran around with it, until the pain numbed my arm so badly I couldn’t use it anymore, it started smelling too and I couldn’t stop shivering even though I felt like I was burning up. They all said I was gonna die. Not directly at me of course, but I heard them talk while they thought I slept. This one day when I didn’t have the strength to get up anymore, I heard them all scatter, sounded like they were in panic. I heard voices shouting and screams, after that I don’t remember much until I woke up once more….

Eight

Running away didn’t solve my problem that time. They caught me again, just outside the Queen’s Forest. So close to freedom, they dragged me back to the Capital, kicking and screaming. Got me five lashes… I think I passed out at some point because I only remember three… spent some amount of time being chained to the bed… yet again. I don’t like to think back to those times. I could’ve died on the streets… actually I probably would have, had the  Guard not decided to cleanse them from my kind. I sort of liked the feeling when I lied there, everything feels so much more intense when you think you’re going to die. After what seemed ages, my wounds had finally healed and they approached me… with a choice. They would let me run, as an outlaw, or I could join them and live. I was thirteen years old and somehow in that moment, dying just like that didn’t seem such a nice option, so I choose life.

Nine

It was cold, day and night. Ever dark in winter and ever light in summer. But always cold. They made pretty damn sure no one would run away from there. Would’ve been suicide to even try… If the wolves or whatever wandered the frozen wastes around us didn’t get you, the cold sure would have. So sticking within the keeps walls was the only option… stay there, study, eat, sleep, practice and study….

Ten

Smell, listen, see… act.

That’s what he kept telling me, the one they sent to train me. 

Huge guy, big with red beard and hair. Stared at me for like ages before he nodded in agreement to take me up as student. Eirikur the Grey he called himself. 

At first I didn’t see much point in sitting in the dark, smelling the damp air of the pitch-black dungeon surrounding me, listening to the silence. But after I had spent a day in full darkness, I realised that there is no such thing as complete silence. 

When I had come here, I saw no logic in their actions, why had they not just killed me? Why would they bother dragging me here, feeding me, training me. Back then it didn’t make much sense to me. Now I know, they saw something others overlooked. Soon I stopped opposing and listened to what they had to offer. I liked to learn… learned to read, write, calculate… I learned to lie, to hide behind a shroud of innocence, to listen and wait until it was time to act. And to act swiftly, in the dark, and disappear. 

Eirikur was pleased with my progress… it would have been impossible to for me to match his strength, so I needed to learn how to finish it quickly. I absorbed everything he said, trained every single day from sunrise to sundown until my veins pumped pain and I thought I was going to die from exhaustion. This lasted only two years and I knew I still had a lot more to learn when I was released for my first task.

Eleven

For some weird joke of faith I am still alive. I was sure I was marked for death. What I did had been a major f**k up. Suppose it is true that things get worse before they get better. Instead of the beating of my life I had expected the Officiator choose to test my endurance and loyalty. Well… I’m the wrong person to impress with mind games. 

Though I have to admit the task he gave proved quite difficult to execute. I had no intention of killing the girl I brought back but there had been a flaw in my plan and of course he noticed…

I appreciate his teachings, though they are tiresome. Had to drag that person all the way to the drifts and then he made me kill her… waste of time. I don’t like wasting my time….

Twelve

I should admit to hypocrisy, when hating him for what he does. Do I have the right to call him sick? He tried to kill me and probably will once he gets the chance. I don’t forgive that. He’ll pay for it… I’ll only play nice for as long as needed.

Thirteen

I shot my father today… I am sure it was him, like the real one. Spent several days puzzling it all together. He’s daft, tried to bribe me into something. Well he picked the wrong kid to f**k with. I told him I’d shoot him if he lied to me, I tend to keep my word. Hope he dies. 

As to my mother… that was a tricky one to figure out. It seemed pretty unreal and yet logical. I went to question her and she lied. I do not like being lied to… so I choose to teach her and got what I wanted. Though for a moment I feared my bluff had broken her. She went all blank and cried. Made me realise I had not thought past getting the information out of her. The door to her office remained locked, I could hear her cry from the outside… as I stood there and listened it hit me…guilt. I wanted to make it right again. I feared she’d stay that way. Feared I’d lost her before actually finding her. 

She punished me with a wall of silence…

Fourteen

When I first opened my eyes I had no idea where the hell I was. First thing I noticed was the smell. Smelled rich, of silk and perfume, like the houses I used to break into… but this time I was quite comfortable. Someone was close, took me some time to sort out my thoughts on what had happened. I lied still for a very long time, staring into the thick velvety darkness, was like resting in a nest. She had taken me in. She had accepted me as her own… it stirred very strange feelings. For the first time I can remember I felt safe and at peace…

I remember smiling to myself, laughing quietly, holding onto the arm she had put around me, in my mind practicing the word I’d call her… Mother. 

Fifteen

„You are my little treasure and don’t you forget it.“, she whispered to me and cupped my within her delicate hands. The soft smell of vanilla emitting from her tall figure. I could do nothing but stare into her eyes and nod slowly. I knew her cruel nature, I had seen these eyes become colder than the frozen wastes up north. But at that moment there was just warmth in them. Almost too much to bare and yet I couldn’t look away…it became hard to breathe, like the heat was choking me. And somehow I was also strangely relaxed. I would’ve done anything for her and at the same I felt scared and almost awestruck at the sanctity of this moment. I was as fragile as turtle without a shell… and here she stood, offering me a sanctuary, where I could rest and be myself without the weight I had lifted upon my shoulders. Slowly I gave in. The first stone of the fortress, I had built around me to protect my sanity.. it cracked… Not audible for anyone but myself….

Sixteen

As I walked through the streets of the Capital, searching for that moronic retard, I felt unusually uneasy much like having an itch that just wont go away. 

Nervousness… 

I remember going through Narrow Street Bend as I came across someone standing beneath one of the dimly glowing street lamps, not sure why I approached him, but the person seemed lost. He turned around as I had made my presence noticeable by walking audible. I remember him trying to start a conversation. My hand gripped tighter around the dagger handle, I had been holding concealed behind my lower arm. Scanning the person, an all too familiar process started in my head. Like instinct, second nature… I don’t recall anything he said, within in just moments I had decided on my method. The blade cut through his neck like butter, reappearing on the other side, one strong yank and his throat was severed. I held onto my dagger as the body sank like a limp sack… only now noticing the waves of red it produced. Stepping back a little, I watched the twitching body expire, a dark puddle forming around it. 

The sudden calmness that overwhelmed me made me laugh out loud for a moment. Nothing had ever made me feel more at ease… Apologising would be a breeze now… 

Author's Note

Please do not replicate any of my texts without my written or oral consent.
Since english is not my first language of writing I would like to apologise in advance for any grammatical mistakes made!