A Little Girl In The Middle Of Nowhere Lost Her Happy Thought

flat calm of that sky so blue.

Mary Jane and Jean Baptiste remained hidden in a floor packed with straw,

together with Bernhard the mouse and Thomas the cat.

 You're Thomas the cat, right?

Mary Jane said

 At your service, Mademoiselle!

 Why, can you talk?

 I've always been a big talker!

 Do not be silly! It drives me mad being here!

 It's a fortune, don’t you think?

 Thomas answer me, please,

Why can you talk?

 If anything... why can you hear me?

 Right? ... Why can I hear you?

“It's a meaningless conversation”

Mary Jane thought;

she thought she was going crazy or

to be still dreaming cool.

 You can hear us thank to your father,

the brilliant Count Ladurée.

Bernhard was a lab rat,

you know? ... And he told me about things.

That rat's got the scoop on!

 Now... the mouse can talk, too?

 No! Mademoiselle is you, who can listen to us!

Bernhard the mouse said, almost annoyed.

 Ok! Alright! Hear, listen, talk! I don't care! Mouse, tell me about my father! Mary Jane said, more annoyed than him.

 First of all, my name is Bernhard Blues! ... Not Mouse! ... Secondly, I do not want to tell you anything!

And so telling Bernhard sneaked away, inside his small hole.

 Seen! ... You've offended him! ... Good!

Thomas said, shaking his head.

With the help of time perhaps Mary Jane would understand the personality of every single animal.

She could finally take advantage of this mysterious bond, to face the future and to understand the past that no one

had never told her.

She did not really know

how and who her Father was;

she did not even know about her Mother or

remembered many things; sometimes

their faces also disappeared from her memory.

So, she would have to wait

to grow and develop to the best

this immense power which

now it seemed nothing to her.

Mary Jane was a bright child,

there are no doubts about this.

Of her father, she only remembered slowness and

light caresses on her cheeks

with the back of his rough hand.

Of the rest she remembered little or perhaps nothing.

Mary Jane knew to wait!

Just like her father! And like the seasons.

That was why she was smart.

She ... was not in a hurry.

She was not at all.

So, with the slowness of things

even the sundown arrived, on that first day

as fugitives.

The sun was setting at the same time as the slow return of animals from pasture.

She saw them coming in the distance, like the platoon of a large army, from the crack in the barn wood.

Where she could see the Moon and the Sun, too.

The animals approaching the stable began to get nervous again, without any apparent reason.

They began mooing, braying, bleating and stamping their feet, as if they had entered a

Wild West Rodeo.

With the farmer's astonishment,

even his faithful dog Faust, who had accompanied them serenely to the pasture and to the way home,

he began to bark loudly, spin out of control, as if to bite its own tail.

The farmer closed the stable.

Asking to himself a million and more questions.

Then he headed home.

Thinking that the following day

he would have to call the veterinarian,

among all the things he had to do.

To let somebody that knows things better

control his animals.

For those absurd oddities

of their latest behaviors.

Behaviors that

he couldn't explain by himself.

The captain of the gendarmerie, coming back

at Ladurée’s residence, he informed the Commissioner

C. Monet, of his first defeat.

 Commissioner! No trace of the children!

 Captain?! They couldn't have gone

that far!

Commissioner C. Monet replied, rolling his long mustaches.

 We looked all over Paris!

Checked everywhere, inquired of anyone! Mr. Commissioner! Nothing!

 Call for reinforcements! Get our people on it!

That's an order!

Commissioner C. Monet snorted bored and shouted loudly.

The captain of the gendarmerie,

as embalmed, frozen by that sudden anger,

he clicked his heels with

an empty and blank look.

He greeted the commissioner, putting his hand outstretched above his right eye

and executed orders received.

 Do you think Madame Tussauds

is still sleeping?

Commissioner C. Monet asked

the vain maid.

 I think yes! Mr. Commissioner.

She ordered not to be bothered by anyone! Madame Tussauds does not feel very well ... In the meantime, would you like something? Can I get you some coffee?

 Yes, please! No sugar.

If you let me, I'll take a look

at Count Ladurée’s studio ...

Can you tell me which way?

 Sure, follow me upstairs.

The bimbo maid said

getting the long stairs.

Madame Tussauds, actually,

was not bad or even sleeping.

Those were just the orders given to the maid, so that they would not know

where she was gone.

Madame Tussauds had snuck out of the service door to go to Reverend Dumas.

She had to hand over

secrets and important documents.

She had to hand them over the Reverend

so as he could keep them safe in a safe place.

Far from the prying eyes of the Gendarmerie, which now

fixed abode in her villa.

The documents were: The will and testament and the ...

Count Ladurée’s DIARIES AND MEMORIES.

Edith the little nightingale of Paris,

followed the whole story from the roofs and windows of Ville Lumière.

Commissioner C. Monet, holding

his cup of steaming coffee,

he entered the study of Count Ladurée.

The room was large and lightly lit,

he had to open the heavy curtains

to filter the daylight.

As soon as the light lighted the room,

the commissioner found himself in a place outside of the known world. As if by a gate, he entered in the world of impossible things.

The walls were covered with books, then open maps, itineraries, meaningless codes,

open books thrown here and there.

A large globe all written with pen

with a firm hand of Count Ladurée,

with sea routes and land routes.

In Count Ladurée’s studio

there were things never seen before.

Being there among his things was like traveling without moving and watching his paintings;

it was like flying away.

Commissioner C. Monet placed on the plate

an old vinyl record.

Jazz! Only Jazz!

And the best, just to be clear!

Alone, in Count Ladurée’s empty room. That day C. Monet traveled far into heavens he did not know.

In some ways he also managed to fly

among the things that the wind and Nature

led him to connect together.

So, smells became light musical memories ... And jazz! ... Only Jazz!

Commissioner C. Monet saw himself as a child, in front of the Sea, in an infinite world to learn and investigate.

Meanwhile, in the stable, tender was the night.

Nature covered its primordial role

of only mother and unequivocal destiny.

Children grew up in those days with that climate that leads from winter to spring,

without realizing it ...

That slow and imperceptible climate that let it pass and blossom, which gives birth and then let the flowers grow. At that time Mother Nature gave everything to the two children!

Hélène the white cow with black spots

was a midwife to the baby and mother and wise grandmother to Mary Jane.

Thomas & Bernhard were their naughty

cheerful friends, a fantasy to be discovered.

Faust the dog and Antonin the horse

had the role that a father and a grandfather have in a family of human beings.

That's all... In such a big house, like Nature itself.

Over time, Mary Jane

began to understand the personality of every single animal,

as she had expected.

By developing this knowledge,

she was able to interact with each animal

without ever offending them in their personal character.

Since, at first glance, all cows seemed to her identical,

so as all sheep and chickens.

But it was not that simple

as the distracted gaze said.

All animals were different from the others,

both in features and character.

Mary Jane, who was now a small woman,

had learned to observe to learn.

Count Ladurée, instead,

had taught her to wait.

Thus, following her primal instinct,

that which Nature had given her at birth,

Mary Jane learned to interact with every animal and to elicit their soul and essence.

It was hard to get along with Bernhard the mouse.

Perhaps the tests made on him, his friends or relatives in the labs,

had altered his soul and his very conception of life.

Bernhard Blues was a touchy mouse.

He was offended or deeply resented

on something that nothing seemed to others.

He could find refuge in his own little world that the others never saw,

he was on hold, just waiting and

playing his Blues.

Bernhard lived in a dump.

But it was his dump. Only his!

Mary Jane had to be his friend in order to understand his secrets,

because she well knew how to understand him;

One day when everyone was out and

spring began to cast its colors,

Mary Jane approached Bernhard’s dump and

whispered with a light voice like a jazz song brought by the wind:

 Its spring out of there, come with me, Bernhard!

Let’s have some fun through the flowery meadows!

I know the smells and sometimes with my eyes closed I sense the colors.

 I'm tired! I want to sleep! I'm sorry!

 The leaves are moving in the breeze and the air needs to tell many stories;

Bernhard, you’re not tired!

Come with me out there to see and feel.

 I'm tired!

And I don’t like you too much!

Bernhard said truthfully.

 It doesn't matter! Touchy Mouse! Come outside, the world is all full of colors!

 I’m not a Mouse! I’m Bernhard Blues! Stupid pretentious little girl!

 Frickin’ mouse, overcome your pain!

Just after, you’ll gain!

Mary Jane said rhyming and smiling.

- Come out and let's play

‘impossible flowers’!

I know all the smells and sometimes

with my eyes closed I sense the colors.

You any good at it?

4

After recommending to Reverend Dumas, to take great care of the documents handed over and not to show them to anyone,

never under any circumstances,

Madame Tussauds, took on her fur coat

and said:

 When this story is over, you will receive a reward

for your current and past services,

do not worry, Reverend!

So saying, she greeted the Reverend Dumas with a sharp handshake and headed home.

Commissioner C. Monet was waiting for her and she said to herself to remain calm.

Actually, the commissioner was in the Count’s studio, but among all the things to be investigated,

he had completely forgotten about Madame Tussauds and her false maladies.

Edith the little nightingale of Paris, followed the whole story

from the roofs and misted windows of Paris.

The cup of coffee was on the desk,

rested and forgotten, now cold.

Rolling his right mustache, the commissioner flipped through the documents, books and manuscripts,

while sitting at Count Ladurée’s desk.

Returning home from the service door,

Madame Tussauds sneaked into her bedroom, without anyone seeing her;

she put on her nightly dressing and messed up her hair quickly.

 Good morning, Mr. Commissioner!

She said, faking a yawn, while entering Count’s studio’s door.

 Good morning Madame.

In the meantime, I've taken the liberty to take a look.

Curiosity is a defect to us poor Policemen!

 No problem, take your time.

Did you find anything of interest?

 Yes, very interesting I would say.

Count Ladurée seemed to be a genius! At least, from what I can guess.

I think he was dealing with alchemy and mesmerism, not black magic, Madame!

 Well! What difference does it make! Even the devil is called by many names!

Satan, Devil, Lucifer, Demon, etc. ...

 Unfortunately for you,

my curiosity leads me to know

 even about things that do not concern me.

And it isn't quite the same thing. Madame.

It will seem a detail of little value to you, but for me it is not so!

However, I have to come back often in this studio; there are many things I still have to understand and these things could bring us to the little girl and the newborn!

 Of course, Commissioner, come every day or when you want.

Indeed, I would like you also to come on the last Sunday of the next Summer,

I'm having a party with a surprise for my birthday.

You are hereby formally invited

among the honored guests.

 Thank you, happy birthday then, I'll gladly.

Investigations permitting, of course!

Although it seemed strange to Commissioner C. Monet thinking of a birthday party and dancing in those particular circumstances.

When an eleven-year-old girl, who is the birthday woman’s granddaughter, and an unknown baby boy escaped without leaving a trace and without an apparently valid motive for doing that gesture.

Even if the commissioner found it strange,

he still decided to attend the party,

when it was time to go.

Commissioner C. Monet

had accepted the invitation without blinking an eye.

Especially to understand certain things he was carrying around in his head ... Strange ideas!

Moreover, it was said for years and throughout Paris about the great parties at Ladurée House.

It was told of dances and glamour, food, and the impeccable lady of the house.

Madame Tussauds, queen of gossip

and Parisian social life.

Commissioner C. Monet wanted to understand

the complicated full facts.

It was all about that with him.

In the meantime, in the stable, Mary Jane

was still trying to persuade Bernhard to come out of his dump.

 Come on, Bernhard! Come out! ...

I need some advice! I beg you! Please!

 What advice? ...

Bernhard the mouse asked intrigued.

 Let’s go a little through the meadows,

it’s important to me!

 Ok! But I don’t like you anyway!

 And neither do I! ... Are we going?

 Thomas will stay with the baby, along with the cows! ... Let's go!

Bernhard said very determined.

 Now, you came to ask me something.

 I wanted some advice from you! Want to listen carefully?

 Ok! I'm all ears!

The friendly rodent said, dropping to the ground to laugh as a fool.

 Bernhard, don’t be stupid! This is a serious matter! Very serious!

But so saying, also Mary Jane got a laugh and she wasn’t able to stop.

They laughed out loud together until they cried for a stupid silly thing.

And just like that, they became

true and great friends.

There was a bright sun that morning and

the green meadows seemed to glow

of stars and crystals.

As the dew glinted

along their way,

Mary Jane asked Bernhard to accompany her to Paris.

 I need clothes and I have an absurd hunger! ... I'm tired of eating

milk and eggs!

The little girl said with her eyes glittering like the green fields around them.

 Alright! We will leave tomorrow morning at sunrise and Thomas will come with us.

The others will take care about the baby. I’ve a lot of friends in town and I would love to go with you.

Bernhard said with quite a knowing smile.

 Thomas says you know many things

about my father and that you are very touchy! I think that's true!

I'm just a little girl and if there were any mistakes in my family,

I just don’t think that’s my fault.

I'd like to know about my Father and

my Mother, that’s all!

Bernhard grabbed Mary Jane’s hand,

led her to the shadow of

a large chestnut tree.

The two walked meeting the sun,

in an absurd frame.

A backlit picture where:

A little girl with bright blond hair,

who goes away on her back, bent on one side.

Like a tired and shabby old lady,

holding a little mouse’s hand.

Walking by his side,

towards the light of the East.

 What an absurd scene!

The great ones and the unimaginative ones would say.

But so it was!

5

It was a warm sunny Saturday morning,

Paris had woken up in the scent

of heated butter from the boulangeries and

in the fragrance of freshly baked baguettes and croissants.

The light is reflected and split

into so many colors in the windows of shops,

as a good wish for that Sunday feast day.

Mary Jane seemed hypnotized

in seeing people and smelling in the air

all those tasty scents,

which she had almost forgotten.

Thomas and Bernhard followed her as two small shadows, like guardian angels,

along the low sidewalks of Ville Lumière.

Mary Jane seemed lost to follow with her eyes and with all her five senses,

the joy, the frenzy and the daily beat of life she did not know yet.

She could see life in bystanders, people and

among the kisses of the lovers.

In the light of her first free morning,

within the sweetest city in the world.

It was a stunning Saturday morning

in the sky above Paris.

Everything seemed perfect in the Universe

and in the flow of daily things.

A beautiful spring day which would donate millions of stars when the evening would have dressed it in black and brilliant stars.

At Ladurée House, Madame Tussauds

looked like a crazy hysterical.

She went roaming the halls, yelling at all the servants, with unbearable and raspy voice,

like a nail scratching the blackboard

in the empty classroom silence.

A sour note in the perfection

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