Erik Pethersen - The Ball

original title: la palla

first edition: 23/12/2020

© Editrice Hencos

https://editrice.hencos.it

title: the ball

en-version 1.0 21/12/2021

translation by Emanuela Paganucci

published by © Tektime

https://www.traduzionelibri.it/

cover design: Erik Pethersen

This book is protected by copyright law.

Any unauthorized reproduction is prohibited

After “the pyramid“, “the cone“ and “the sphere“, I entrust Hencos Publishers with my new novel, which is the result of sleepless nights, sluggish days and restless thoughts: a rough diamond, something to take a little at a time.

Erik Pethersen

Born and raised in the Lombardy region, he self-published some short novels, according to unknown and untraceable sources, which happened to be spread, as the author himself corroborates, through sheets of paper handwritten in block letters and printed, using unknown devices, about twenty copies each, which are all missing. After some hesitation, we publish what officially appears to be the first novel written by the author: an introspective journey, at times claustrophobic, through gloomy and bleak landscapes, suddenly broken up by amazing short-lived flashes of light.

Hencos Publisher

ERIK PETHERSEN

1 A day in the life

1.1 Intro 1.1 INTRO I have never seen anything so bright blue. A pair of sensual and slender legs come out under a feminine torso and end up in two flat black leather boots. A pale and velvety complexion shows from a V-neck, which restrain a playful vitality, and from her three-quarter sleeves on a pair of thin arms: probably some Fennoscandian genes. I say «hi» casually. She answers back showing a beautiful smile with teeth so white that lessen the blue brightness of her eyes. This magnificent creature gets into the lift before me and stands on one side; I position myself at the bottom, as I do every morning. The cosiness of this tiny space is suddenly filled with a delicate scent of bitter orange and cardamom. I lose myself in this aroma, while I ask her what floor she is going to. «Seventh floor, please» she says. I press the button, lingering among her sea like and icy colours. I watch her bring her right hand as far as her shoulder: she twists a strand of her light brown hair around her index finger varnished in black; the other hand slips into one of the pockets of her dark jeans. She has a delicate, gentle and regular face. She seems to shine with positive melancholy. Number seven lights up; the doors open. «See you.» «See you, have a good day.» The lift goes up as far as the 11th floor. No, I have never seen anything so bright blue.

1.2 Life

1.2 Life – One

1.2 Life - Two

1.2 Life - Three

1.2 Life - Four

1.2 Life - Five

1.3 Impulses

1.3 Impulses - One

1.3 Impulses - Two

1.3 Impulses - Three

1.3 Impulses - Four

2 A day in the life

2.1 Intro

2.2 Life

2.2 Life - One

2.2 Life - Two

2.2 Life - Three

2.2 Life - Four

2.2 Life - Five

2.3 Use your illusion

2.3 Use your illusion - One

2.3 Use your illusion - Two

2.3 Use your illusion - Three

2.3 Use your illusion - Four

3 Breaking into pieces

3.1 Naked and afraid

3.1 Naked and afraid - One

3.2 Jeg faller

3.2 Jeg faller - One

3.3 A fine day to exit

3.3 A fine day to exit - One

3.3 A fine day to exit - Two

3.4 In hiding

3.4 In hiding - One

3.4 In hiding - Two

3.4 In hiding - Three

3.4 In hiding - Four

3.5 Temporary peace

3.5 Temporary peace - One

3.5 Temporary peace - Two

3.6 Lost control

3.6 Lost control - One

3.6 Lost control - Two

3.6 Lost control - Three

4 Broken-down

4.1 Wishlist

4.1 Wishlist - One

4.1 Wishlist - Two

4.1 Wishlist - Three

4.2 Svartir sandar

4.2 Svartir sandar - One

4.2 Svartir sandar - Two

4.2 Svartir sandar - Three

4.3 Comfortably numb

4.3 Comfortably numb - One

4.3 Comfortably numb - Two

4.3 Comfortably numb - Three

5 Lights and shadows

5.1 Dumb hotel

5.1 Dumb hotel - One

5.1 Dumb hotel - Two

5.1 Dumb hotel - Three

5.1 Dumb hotel - Four

5.2 Hurt

5.2 Hurt - One

5.2 Hurt - Two

5.2 Hurt - Three

5.2 Hurt - Four

6 A brand-new life

6.1 A simple mistake

6.1 A simple mistake - One

6.1 A simple mistake - Two

6.1 A simple mistake - Three

6.1 A simple mistake - Four

6.1 A simple mistake - Five

6.2 The call of Ktulu

6.2 The call of Ktulu - One

6.2 The call of Ktulu - Two

6.2 The call of Ktulu - Three

6.2 The call of Ktulu - Four

6.2 The call of Ktulu - Five

6.3 Fragile dreams

6.3 Fragile dreams - One

6.3 Fragile dreams - Two

6.3 Fragile dreams - Three

7 Ipsa pila

7.1 Ipsa pila - One

7.2 Ipsa pila - Two

7.3 Ipsa pila - Three

7.4 Ipsa pila - Four

7.5 Outro

to whom it may concern

I have never seen anything so bright blue.

A pair of sensual and slender legs come out under a feminine torso and end up in two flat black leather boots.

A pale and velvety complexion shows from a V-neck, which restrain a playful vitality, and from her three-quarter sleeves on a pair of thin arms: probably some Fennoscandian genes.

I say «hi» casually.

She answers back showing a beautiful smile with teeth so white that lessen the blue brightness of her eyes.

This magnificent creature gets into the lift before me and stands on one side; I position myself at the bottom, as I do every morning.

The cosiness of this tiny space is suddenly filled with a delicate scent of bitter orange and cardamom. I lose myself in this aroma, while I ask her what floor she is going to. «Seventh floor, please» she says. I press the button, lingering among her sea like and icy colours.

I watch her bring her right hand as far as her shoulder: she twists a strand of her light brown hair around her index finger varnished in black; the other hand slips into one of the pockets of her dark jeans.

She has a delicate, gentle and regular face. She seems to shine with positive melancholy. Number seven lights up; the doors open.

«See you.»

«See you, have a good day.»

The lift goes up as far as the 11th floor.

No, I have never seen anything so bright blue.

A few more seconds in the lift and I reach my floor. I open the front door; the darkness of a February early morning envelops the office. Before me, a dim and foggy light shows behind the reception desk. A sequence of nine large windows, each measuring one metre and a half in width: beyond the windowpanes and the mist, in the distance, the castle towers over the city.

It is 7:30 am and nobody else is in the office, apart from the notary public, of course. His Ferrari California was already in the car park, like every morning, parked with the front of the car towards the exit, keeping the same distance from the two lines painted on the ground.

I took my jacket off and I hang it in the closet placed at the side of the desk. I get across the room looking at the castle in the distance from the windows on my right and I go for my self-stirring mug in my office. I go into the little room in front of my office and I wait for the kettle to boil. I pour some hot water onto my dissolvable Colombian coffee. I switch on my mug and I walk to the end of the corridor. The door of the notary’s office is open and he is busy reading something on his 29-inch computer screen.