I Won't Be Settling For Anything Less Than An Odysseus Level Of Obsession From My Future Husband Thank

I won't be settling for anything less than an Odysseus level of obsession from my future husband thank you very much

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To Decadent Poets - Chapter 5

Summary - find more chapters, read the synopsis, and trigger warnings here!

Once upon a time, there was a girl no one called for. No one uttered her name. (She didn’t have one) - Isabela Penov, The Impossible Lullaby.

Annie Wood was filled with expectation to meet the boys who’d be her company in Taigh Hill during the years of war but none of them seemed comfortable enough to start a conversation. Despite the terrible situation, she couldn’t say she hadn’t been expecting anxiously for the arrival of her uncle’s godson and the children of his two closest employees.

She was tired of walking around Taigh Hill alone like a too-colorful ghost haunting the sunny mansion, considering her sister, Ellen, seemed to be too busy with the clothes and jewelry she could lend from her mother to go to the city balls — and with her fiancée, of course.

Even Annie’s mother was more worried about the balls than her own youngest daughter, so Annie spent her days passing from one adult to the other. Sometimes she’d stay with her uncle Elijah in his office or the library but it wasn’t healthy for a teenager to be always inside the house, so it wasn’t rare that he ended up making her get out. Other times her father could spare some time with her but those were rare and, therefore, very loved also.

She didn’t think there was a human being she liked more than her dad.

Jamie Turner, however, was a close second. When he wasn’t working as a butler in Taigh Hill, he usually distracted Annie with his magic tricks and taught her to play poker (under the condition that she’d never bet, of course). But his obligations to the huge mansion usually didn’t allow Jamie to elongate those moments.

So, anyone could imagine how much Annie was excited to have some company her age to shake things up a bit. However, the boys didn’t seem at all comfortable and two of them didn’t even seem to be trustworthy.

She liked Noah and his shy, and calm manners. It didn’t take long for him to grab a book from the suitcase he’d brought, burying his face in it through the rest of the journey. Judging by the cover, Annie could see it was a book of poems and she got curious, just like the other two boys, Oliver and Christian.

She noticed when Evans poked Krause, pointing at Noah reading, and they exchanged a look like they were laughing at the fact the boy was reading. Annie frowned almost immediately, guessing the two were mocking the poor third boy.

Annie hated that kind of boy, who mocked everyone else because they thought so highly of themselves. But at least she already knew who she was gonna befriend: uncle’s godson wasn’t as interesting as she thought he’d be.

“Miss Wood, please!” Marjorie, her housekeeper, took Annie from her stream of thoughts and she soon realized why: while she was thinking, her body had been slowly sliding until she was seated at the edge of her seat, not even a bit worried about her posture.

Annie didn’t care that much but Marjorie, although loving, had always been very rigid regarding “christian” morals. Which basically meant Annie simply needed to, in the older woman’s mind, be a virginal lady at fourteen (almost fifteen) years old.

Which was obviously just a delusion. Teenagers were stupid and they’d always be stupid. This was the premise of being one, after all: making a lot of idiotic mistakes and regret bitterly, having their hearts broken by someone who wasn’t even worth it, fighting with their families, slamming their bedroom doors when they were made… things like that.

It was simply Annie’s purpose to be anything by a well-behaved lady.

But, of course, to her mother, whatever Annie firmly believed (or didn’t believe in) at her young age wasn’t important. So, she was tossed aside to etiquette lessons and to catechism with Marjorie during at least one-third of her week. Which was very, very boring.

Lest you misunderstood her, she knew it was important to learn about Jesus’ story and how he cared for the poor and vulnerable but there was just something in the way Marjorie spoke about it Annie couldn’t bear. She meant, how did the same man who preached about loving thy neighbor could dictate she couldn’t wear pants and more, punish her for it?

Uncle Elijah used to say Marjory had too much religion and too little faith but Annie wasn’t sure about that either. She’d seen the housekeeper getting emotional while she prayed, she’d seen her feeling God. Annie thought Marjorie let religion dictate her faith and that was dangerous: the Woman trusted more on others than herself — that was the problem.

At least, that was what Annie thought.

“We’re not far now,” said Marjorie suddenly, looking at the lawn that surrounded Taigh Hill. Annie followed the woman’s eyes when she grimaced and smiled as she saw Jack with his giant case on his back entering the property.

She couldn’t wait to get to know him but she needed to distract Marjorie first, since she thought the wanderer wasn’t a good influence on her. He mom as well didn’t think it was right of Annie to talk to someone from a lower social class. Elliott, on the other hand, was always making conversation with the man and Annie simply adored Jack.

Fortunately, Marjorie was too busy with the boy’s arrival and guiding them through the mansion, so Annie could manage to escape an run around. The first thing she did was run to Jack, who was ringing a little bell.

“Jack, I’m so glad you came!” She greeted him joyfully, watching as the man with a gray, thick beard, smiled at her, good-humored as always. “Do you have another quatrain for me?”

“Oh, Wood girl,” he greeted her with the same enthusiasm as she did even though he was almost thirty years older, his discreetly toothless smile illuminating his face through the thick beard. “Of course, I always have a quatrain for such a smart girl like yourself!”

“Declaim it, please!” She asked as he took off the bag from his shoulders, putting it on the ground. He opened the bag to reveal at least a dozen leather books, all of them about different matters, and the letters of their titles shining in gold on the covers.

She got to her knees to look at the volumes, listening intently as the vendor’s voice got deeper as he declaimed the small, funny little quatrain:

I’ll put your portrait On the pig stall So when me pigs need aid I’ll remember your love conquers all.

Annie laughed at the little rhyme, which Jack declaimed with an improvised and funny performance, throwing his arms around as he acted what he was declaiming.

“This was the worst love quatrain I’ve ever heard, Jack,” she said as her laughter died, and the old man, who was already laughing with her, laughed even more. He had a loud laughter, as happy as an adult could have.

Annie smiled at the books in the bag but soon the old salesman squeezed the tip of her nose between two curved fingers, daring her:

“I bet you can’t come up with one better right here and now, Wood girl.”

Annie smiled and looked around, watching the gardens of Taigh Hill’s property attentively, the quatrain rolling off of her tongue with scary ease:

Don’t give me yellow flowers For desperation is yet to come Give me little pink flowers So, I may yet return home

Jack, who always wore a black hat, took it off from his balding head and saluted her quatrain, clapping like a proud grandfather. It warmed Annie’s heart immediately and she didn’t hesitate to get up and thank her small, loved audience.

It was at that moment she saw Noah walking through the lawn. Annie didn’t know exactly what Marjorie had said or where she went with the boys but it seemed it didn’t take much time after all. Noah had a book in his hand and he was walking towards one of the huge willow trees next to the maze’s bush wall.

According to the map Annie had seen at the library, the maze on Taigh Hill’s property was gigantic and it even had a small stone fort in the Middle — a reminder of its feudal times, forgotten now — but she never managed to find it for real. On the other side of the mansion, there was a long set of lawn and a lake, in which Annie loved to swim when it was warm enough, which didn’t occur often.

Impulsively, Annie called, raising her voice:

“Kurtz!” The boy looked around, seemingly confused for being called by anyone.

When his eyes found Jack, who watched curiously, and Annie, the girl gestured for him to get closer.

Hesitant, Noah went to them, his skinny body seemed to shake in the breeze, which had gotten the tip of Annie’s nose cold and the joints of her fingers hurt. He was really pale, enough for the wind to make his cheeks blush, and he was tall. Annie reached just his chest, as she realized when he got close enough.

Noah also had bright brown eyes like those Annie had seen when she did charity work with underprivileged kids. It didn’t make sense but that wasn’t a matter to ask about in a casual conversation. He didn’t say anything as he got close, maybe too shy to strike up a conversation, so Annie turned back to Jack, smiling.

“Jack, this is Noah Kurtz, he’ll live with us for a while.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Noah,” said Jack, taking off his hat once more as he smiled in a friendly manner. “Why don’t you pick a book from my magic bag, huh?”

“I’m grateful, but...” the boy began to say, biting his lower lip hard. Je kept one hand in the pocket of his old tweed jacket while holding the same book from the carriage with the other. In general, Noah seemed hesitant, as if afraid of being himself. Annie could almost see his stiffened back through the fabric of his jacket. “I don’t have money to buy any of them.”

“Well, good thing my books are not for sale, then, Master Noah,” said the salesman as he’d once said to Annie the first time they’d met in the nearest city. “I’m a dream-sower, an enemy of the ignorance that plagues our lands. All of my books are a gift, not a product.”

“He lives off of selling antiques,” Annie kindly explained to Noah, smiling when she noticed the boy’s brown eyes shining in excitement. “You can choose one.”

“Just one per month,” Jack warned as he often did, and then he turned to Annie. “Oh, Wood girl here is quick as a little mouse at her reading. No doubt she already finished the one she got last week.”

Innocently, Annie smiled, knowing Jack’s accusation was right on track. The book (which had been great, by the way) was already tucked away in the small library she was slowly building for herself.

As she saw the timid smile on Noah’s face, however, all Annie could think of was that she might actually gain a friend from all of this.

Go to Chapter 6

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To Decadent Poets - Chapter 4

Summary - find more chapters, read the synopsis, and trigger warnings here!

A friend: a being life can’t explain Who only goes when another is born And the mirror my soul multiplies... — Vinícius de Moraes, Friendship Sonnet

Oliver watched Chris attentively, hesitating, his leg shaking with the anxiety that was running through his blood. The boy seemed like a good company to have and he was really funny with a dry sense of humor. They had spent most of the journey talking and Oliver’s accent had kept other people away, not that Chris seemed to care.

He was surely a singular creature, Oliver thought, analyzing the boy: Chris had auburn hair and his brown eyes carried disdain for everything and everyone, making Oliver remember himself before everything happened.

The Oliver from before had been unruly and sarcastic, so much he could exasperate even his parents, who were the epitome of patience. But everything changed after his mother and Hadrian had been taken from them.

It changed because Oliver knew he shouldn’t give his father more grief than the one he was already in and also because no one liked foreigners, let alone a funny one. So, he’d spent a lot of time learning to bite his tongue to stop his dry comments and ironic observations from slipping out, as Much with his dad as with the rest of the world.

In reality, he had to do so a lot of times still: it was hard to give up that part of him, the only one that connected him to his old life, and Oliver didn’t like to do it. But he didn’t feel safe enough to go back to being himself and, if he faked long enough, maybe he wouldn’t be able to separate the mask from who he really was anymore. From what he’d lived through.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” asked Chris suddenly, his eyes still closed from the nap he’d announced he’d take, scaring Oliver, who felt himself flush for being caught staring.

And maybe it was because of his shock, but he snapped in a petulant tone that he hadn’t dared to use in a long time now:

“You’re not the epitome of sociability, mate,” Oliver was surprised at himself and his eyes widened, regretting his words almost immediately although his pride stopped him from apologizing, so he just swallowed, facing Chris, who just stared at him for a moment silently. Oliver was caught by surprise by the slow smile forming on Chris’s pale face.

“Touché,” he said before straightening on the train stool and changing the subject abruptly: “Where are you going to alone?”

“To my father’s boss’ property. He let me stay there during the war,” answered Oliver with a resigned sigh when he saw the daring Shine of Chris’ eyes, making it impossible not to be honest with the boy “What about you?”

“To my godfather’s property,” said Chris, shrugging even though it was noticeable, at least for Oliver, that was complicated “he also let me stay during the war. What’s the name of the place you’re going to?”

“Taigh Hill” Oliver’s pronunciation slipped a bit in the two words but it seemed that Chris had still understood him because for a moment he looked at Oliver as if assessing him, and then he smiled.

“It seems like Destiny got it right today, don’t you think, Oliver?” he softly asked, making him frown, confused with what Chris meant “I’m also going to Taigh Hill. I’m Elijah Wood’s godson, whom I believe is your father’s boss.”

——— ◘ ———

They talked during the rest of the journey, learning more about each other, or at least as much as they allowed each other to know. It was hard sometimes to talk about some things and they respected this, not pressuring the other into talking about what they didn’t want to and Oliver liked that. He liked that silent complicity that seemed to exist between him and Chris. It was encouraging and trustworthy, and as soon as they began to talk, Oliver realized Chris had a certain gift to encourage the worst parts of him, like his sarcasm and his temper.

And when they discovered their common taste in books, the talk flowed through them like a river’s stream, running between the two with a scary naturality that could make Jane Austen even more certain about her assessment of the human relationships in Sense and Sensibility:

It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; —it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.

Oliver really liked to get to know someone who wasn’t his father in all of London and wondered for a moment if that friendship would last. Chris seemed nice enough and didn’t care he was German, which was a more than good start.

And while they discussed how much they wished to read A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens, next, both of them realized they had more in common than the rest of the world could guess they had. At that moment, Chris commented thoughtfully:

“I make a habit of thinking people are idiots. Of course, I always need to remind myself that they also have something good inside of them, even if they are idiots, but most of the time, I feel quite alone because of it. I mean, most people would advise me to not get close to you and I think that’s so dumb because look at us! It’s not like our differences mattered more than our similarities.”

Oliver smiled, really smiled, when he heard that. It was like Chris had just read his mind as if he could understand what Oliver thought. It was impressive considering they Only knew each Other for a couple of hours but some friendships were just like that, weren’t they? Spontaneous and simply inexplicable in the strength of their connections.

After his comment, Chris changed the subject, asking him about what he thought Taigh Hill would be like.

“Much bigger than my house, that’s for sure,” Oliver said with a sarcastic smirk blossoming on his face while he leaned down on the rough tissue of the train’s stool “But you’re the one practically related to them, what do you know about the place?”

“I’ve never been to Taigh Hill and never met my godfather or his family, to be honest,” Chris admitted, resting his feet on the stool after glancing out the door of the cabin they were at. He also had this smirk on his face, the kind of smirk just a young man who was arrogant and completely sure of himself could flash around like a trump card for life. “I think they’re old and deaf but really gentle. Elijah and his brother, I mean, Elliott. My mom said Elliott is married and has two daughters, one of them our age. My father and he were at her christening when I was a baby. What do you think about that?”

“I’m not sure there’s much to think about,” Said Oliver, shrugging and looking out the window. “If they’re not annoying and spoiled, I have nothing to say about any of them.”

“Maybe they’re like ghosts, walking through the mansion with pure, virginal white gowns, ready to give us heart attacks like in Gothic books,” Chris joked, making Oliver laugh out Loud and he didn’t even worry about the people passing through their cabin, who looked through the glassdoor as if they’d heard a specially nasty curse word. “Worse, they could be complaining harpies like old housekeepers who value morals and the old times.

“My God, I really hope not,” Oliver shivered, joking, and added: “I hope, by the way, that none of them are like that. It’d be torture.”

“Can you imagine if Elijah or Elliott want us to wear those old vests and hay hats, or worse, those white pants that get dirty with literally anything?” Chris’ eyes widened as if he couldn’t think about anything scarier thing and Oliver laughed. “I think I could have to run away and live the rest of my life in nowhere of Scotland.”

“Well, those clothes are not so bad,” Oliver said, and Chris looked at him incredulously. “They’re worse.”

They both laughed hard, imagining all kinds of scenarios possible for Taigh Hill and mocking them all. The conversation was comfortable and light like most conversations they’d had ‘til then weren’t. To Oliver because his longest conversations were, with the exception of his father, with the butcher; and to Chris because his friends were always talking about matters that didn’t concern him at all.

Soon the day transformed into twilight and both of them got silent to watch the rose and orange sky, the colors mixing up and changing every minute over the emerald-green lawn of the plains and the mountains that surrounded lakes so still they seemed like portals to the skies. It was in comfortable, soft silence they shared deeply; the kind of silence that could make old friends get emotional but not the two of them.

Because, after all, they had just met, and it’d be weird if it happened. But in that silence, their eyes met, hazel against green, and they laughed together with a complicity neither of them could understand because they had never experienced it before.

But it was one they liked a lot.

——— ◘ ———

When they finally got off the train, Chris was insistent that they stay close, so that it would be easier for Miss Turner, the Wood family’s housekeeper, who would come to get them, according to their parents, to find them. Although the thought was quite practical, Oliver could not help but notice that some of the boys their age were glaring at them when they heard his accent and he was thankful when Chris had nothing to say about the matter.

He didn’t need everyone reminding him of what he was all the time.

They walked through the station, then, trying to get rid of the crowd mounting together because of the small size of the place. They were in a small city near Inverness, as they had been instructed to stop; and decided to wait outside, in the street, something Oliver was grateful for, as those people were starting to make him really uncomfortable.

It didn’t take long for a lady with a prudish dress that seemed to belong to the last decade to pass by them with a car that seemed old. She looked at them both with a semblance that varied between doubt and a welcome. There was also a girl with red hair like crackling fire, who looked at them both curiously.

“What are your names, boys?” The Woman asked, and her voice was firm without being harsh, her hands were trembling and her black hair, which had begun to become gray, was the only thing that denounced her older age.

A rosary hung from her neck in a delicate silver chain and the darkness of the metal left it clear she had the habit of rubbing it.

“I’m Oliver Krause, ma’am,” the blond boy introduced himself in a meek tone of voice, very different from how he presented himself with Chris during their journey.

The other boy, with a quick glance at Oliver, also introduced himself with a charming smile, much more open than the first:

“I’m Christian Evans, at your pleasure, ma’am.”

The housekeeper, who frowned slightly at hearing Oliver, smiled a bit at Chris, commenting:

“A good christian name, just like the rest of your family, Mister Evans,” she paused, then added: “Get on, I’m Marjorie Turner, your new housekeeper, and this is Mister Elliott Wood’s youngest daughter, Annie.

They smiled at the red-haired girl and she smiled back at them, still cautious and timid like a little mouse. Oliver and Chris hurried to put their bags in the trunk of the car, which Miss Turner indicated while she seemed nervous, looking to the train station with a bit of anxiety clear on her face.

But as soon as it came, it went away when a boy their age left the station and looked around, seemingly lost. He had dark brown hair and eyes, and his skin was almost as pale as paper. As she saw him, Miss Turner made her way to him and spoke to the boy, bringing him along after a few seconds.

“Boys, this is Noah Kurtz. He’ll also live with us in Taigh Hill,” said the housekeeper while she climbed back into the car, which seemed to be even more filled with people.

Seeing that the only seats available were either at Annie’s side or Oliver’s side, the woman took the place beside Oliver, a very conscious choice the attentive young people noticed but didn’t comment about it. Oliver was tense since he heard the boy’s last name, knowing he was his dad’s boss’ son and worse, Jew.

His own ascendence from Liora made Oliver a Jew for all effects, both culturally and ethnically, although he never thought much about it — it wouldn’t help Oliver because when people looked at him, none of them saw a Jew and that’s what was important to the world.

Noah didn’t say anything more than a murmured and general greeting as he climbed into the vehicle, avoiding everyone’s eyes. This intrigued Chris, who tried, as the car started to make its way, shaking beyond what he thought was possible on the dirt road, making some kind of conversation with Noah, only to receive back monosyllabic answers that discouraged him. Finally, he turned his attention back to Oliver, talking to him in low voices.

The girl, who regarded the three boys with a curious look, soon lost her interest and directed her attention to the window, feeling ignored, which made Oliver feel bad for her — he knew what it was like to be ignored and left out for reasons outside his control. The housekeeper also kept quiet; her eyes lost to something none but her could see as she rubbed her rosary distractedly.

In general, it was a trembling, tedious path filled with silences far from comfortable like the ones Oliver and Chris shared on the train. The newest friends looked at each other, predicting a boring stay from that experience alone, not even dreaming of what they’d soon find in Taigh Hill.

Go to Chapter 5

All Angels from Heaven Above on Amazon!

Hi, luvs!

So, for those of you who don't know, I posted here on Tumblr this past week a few chapters of my book, All Angels in Heaven Above, so that y'all could know it better.

It happens that I finished its translation and editing today and I managed to upload it on Amazon for you guys in its entirety, so here is the link to know more about it and read the preview on Tumblr...

And here is the link to Amazon (BR)

Just an addition: I know not everyone who reads in English is paying in American dollars, so if it's too expensive in your currency, let me know and I'll lower the prices for you!

Man...

I just watched The Bikeriders and I'll say: I have A LOT to talk about this movie, I might go into one of my rants about it and toxic masculinity and just the overall male need for connection and the struggle against hegemonic culture in capitalism

Plus, there's so much depth in Benny's character and his relationship with Johnny and Kathy, and he barely even appears!!!

And Kathy, I love how unromanticized her story was.

Johnny and his desperation to be what Benny was effortless

The Vietnam War and its impact on a subculture as a demonstration of how deep cultural hegemony and capitalism can affect peoples' lives

It's amazing really