Lonely Ache (eBook)
492 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-7074-6 (ISBN)
With 'The River of Life' published, Markus Mortonsson is now at work on the second book in The Lonely Ache series. In a small cabin deep in the mountains of Colorado, a several-hour drive from Boulder, where the first story began, he is savoring the isolation and solitude necessary for total focus and concentration. During this process, he will also compose more music to accompany Book Two. Visit: thelonelyache.com for the latest book and music updates.
In this true story, a 35-year-old guy sets out to visit Boulder, Colorado, in the year 1986, in search of answers to his cratering life. Within the first couple days there, he meets a woman from Germany, a man from Denmark, and twin sisters from Sweden. These accidental encounters make a strong impression on him, which leads him to abruptly change course and travel immediately to Europe. Landing in Brussels, he slowly makes his way north, through Amsterdam, Copenhagen, and a host of cities and small towns in Sweden, with rich experiences filling one chapter after the next. This unexpected journey to lands unknown will forever change his life!For an enjoyable reading experience, download The Lonely Ache Soundtrack to unlock fourteen musical compositions placed throughout the book. Now available on music apps and platforms worldwide. Visit: thelonelyache.com for details and links.
— 8 —
Nina & Karina
Loved my run this morning! Loved Boulder!! Loved life!!! I was totally entranced by the spectacular view of the Rocky Mountains right out my motel room window. I couldn’t believe I was actually here. The Boulder Effect had clearly taken hold!
After an invigorating shower, I was now ready for something big to do but didn’t have a clue what that might be. I popped into the motel office for suggestions from the front desk clerk, who this morning was a young guy. He told me there was only one place for me to go, and I should make my way there soon before it gets too crowded. He opened a map to show me the spot and the route I should follow to get there. It would be about a forty-five-minute walk, more or less, and he assured me that I would not be disappointed. But before I left, I crossed over to Alfalfa’s to pick up what I would need for my breakfast and snacks during the day – and then I was on my way.
Better tourist advice I could not have gotten. The walk up to Boulder Mountain Park was scenic and enjoyable. So much to look at on the way, giving me much more of a feel of Boulder than I had already gotten in the short time since I arrived yesterday. In no time at all, I found myself standing in an open, spacious, grassy-green area looking toward some interesting rock formations. This, I assumed, was what I had heard people refer to several times already as the Flatirons.
It was still early on this Friday morning, with hardly any people in sight. I could see to my left, up a small hill, some rustic cabin dwellings. That was probably Chautauqua, a summer community of sorts, with artists and musicians in residence who performed and attended lectures throughout the summer months. There was much history to this organization, I would later learn. I thought I would head up that way to explore and investigate, as I was noticing some people milling about.
But just as I was heading in that direction, a bright red color off to the side caught my eye. I turned to focus and quickly discerned two women in red bikinis talking and slowly walking toward me. As they got a little closer, I could see that these were very young women, teenagers, in fact, with long flowing blonde hair. It struck me as rather odd that two girls would be brave enough to walk around in bikinis in such a quiet, desolate area, at least at this early time of day, with the morning air still quite chilly.
At first, I decided to put down my curiosity and walk the other way. I definitely didn’t want to come off as some kind of pervert. Was that what a pervert actually was – someone interested in looking at two seemingly gorgeous, in-shape, long blonde-haired teenagers in red bikinis? Okay, then that was me, a real pervert, but no one had to know what I was really thinking or feeling, right? I would just turn and be on my way. The alternative would be to stare and stare and stare until the police arrived to arrest me for unlawful lascivious voyeurism and unspeakable fantasies!
How would my parents react if they got a frantic call from their supposed law-abiding son, begging them to bail him out of jail?
“How could you do such a thing, Markus? We thought we raised you with strong moral values – to be trusted, to always behave properly, and to never ever look at such irresistibly attractive, smokin’ hot girls! Girls – they are only girls – and you’re drooling over them with lust in your heart! We are complete failures, and you’ve disappointed us to no end!!”
Enough already of this negative chatter! I would just take one more glimpse and then turn to get the hell out of this area before it was too late!
But they were now even closer as I quickly glanced in their direction, and they were both smiling at me with the biggest, friendliest smiles a potential pervert could ever wish for!
Now wait a minute – I’m not a pervert! Maybe I’ve just read too many newspaper articles about guys being arrested for being perverts. So, I’m a little paranoid, that’s all. I’m really normal, actually quite normal, I’d say, or at least my friends would hopefully say as much in my defense.
But it was too late to flee. These blonde beauties were now standing right in front of me.
“Hi,” I greeted. “Aren’t you a little cold?”
They both started giggling, looking quite shy, “Nej,” one of them answered while the other shook her head in agreement.
“Do you live here in Boulder?” I inquired. Surely, they must, to feel so comfortable walking around as they were, especially with no sandy beaches within one thousand miles of this place.
“We are from Sweden!” they said simultaneously. “This is warm weather for us,” one of them added.
“Sweden? And you’re on vacation here in Colorado?”
“Our aunt lives in Boulder,” the other one added. “We like to come visit her in the summertime.”
“I’m Markus,” as I reached out to shake their hands.
“I’m Nina,” said one.
“And I’m Karina,” said the other.
“You look like you could be sisters?”
“Ja, we are twins!”
“And I see you have the same identical bikinis.”
They both started giggling again, “That’s what twins do, didn’t you know?” Nina deadpanned.
Then Karina asked, “And where are you from?”
“Michigan, originally. Have you ever heard of it?”
“Ja, we learn about all fifty of your states in school. And we also know a lot about every other country in the world. Do you know where Sweden is?” Nina quizzed, possibly in a challenging way.
I didn’t really know what to say. They got me! “Yes, Sweden is in the North Pole somewhere. Santa Claus has an office there, right?”
The twins were now giggling uncontrollably, their faces turning a bright red, matching perfectly with the color of their bikinis.
“And do you happen to know which country is nearest to Sweden?” Karina probed.
“Switzerland,” I said, taking my wildest best guess, but knew I was about to be exposed as the typical dumb American they suspected I really was.
As they both continued giggling, I realized how lucky I was to be interacting with these brave, friendly twins in red bikinis from Sweden. This definitely wouldn’t be happening if these girls had been Americans. After all, being trained from a very young age to never talk to strangers, I would have instantly been recognized as a dangerous boogeyman by any American teenager, especially two of them wearing bikinis on a chilly morning in the Foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Thank goodness these were not American bikini-clad teens!
“Everyone always confuses Switzerland with Sweden,” Nina commented. “It’s a mystery to us why. I don’t think they teach very much about other countries in the schools here.”
“Maybe fifty is the most American brains can hold,” Karina added, with a straight face, and then they both broke out giggling in unison. And I started laughing with them because they were probably right. It seemed that young American brains were more interested in watching TV and going to movies than putting boring things into their heads like any of the fifty states, not to mention all the rest of the countries around the world.
“How old are you, if I may ask?” as I was now curious to know.
“Eighteen,” they responded, both at the same time.
“You seem very mature for eighteen,” I commented.
“And most eighteen-year-olds here seem pretty immature to us,” Nina stated.
“Does that mean you haven’t made any friends here in Boulder?”
“Hardly, but that’s okay because we have each other,” Karina said, as they both looked into each other’s eyes with the warmest of expressions only twin sisters could share.
They started whispering between themselves for a few moments. I couldn’t make out what they were saying because they were speaking in Swedish, but then Nina spoke up, “Markus, we are having a problem with our car – it’s really our aunt’s car, and it won’t start. Will you help us?”
“Yes, of course!” I excitedly responded. It now seemed that I might be having more luck than any AAA Road Service Guy in the whole country at this very moment. “Where are you parked?”
They began walking to another area, motioning me to follow until we reached the parking lot. They approached an old drab-green Volvo desperately in need of a paint job. “This is it?” I asked.
“Ja,” as they both answered, nodded and giggled.
I must say, these were the cutest, most charming teens I had ever met in my whole life. They seemed so sweet and innocent, yet I already knew they were very smart and aware. They had to be if they had gotten this far along in life and were now out and about in the world engaging with me. They seemed very special, and I was feeling quite fortunate to be spending my Friday morning adventure with them.
“Okay, what seems to be the problem here?” I inquired, like a professional car mechanic fresh on the scene.
Karina reached into her fanny pack, pulled out a few keys, and then handed them over to me. After fumbling around for the right key, I opened the driver’s side door, got in and turned the ignition. A weak, sick groan we all heard together. “Well, the battery’s dead!” I proudly diagnosed.
“Ja, we already know that,” Nina responded,...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 29.8.2024 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte |
| ISBN-13 | 979-8-3509-7074-6 / 9798350970746 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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