Freedom never comes - Part 17

He knew deep in his heart one the time will come, and he will get married it will be unthinkable that he will ever get divorced. For sure, for very, very sure, was it settled in his mind he will do all in his power to create and sustain a happy family. He knows what a life without a father means. He knew more about the body of a woman, its various stages to grow than anything about himself. He had always wished to share his questions, his ideas, his thoughts with someone he could trust and turn to. But to share his inner self with his two sisters and a busy mother that once gave him a book to explain how human babies are born, was not the kind of help he so desperately needs. The mother touched his hair before she left the room to work in the kitchen. Washing machine was not part of their household. In a big metal pot lifted onto the electric stove was the only way for her to do the weekly washing. Than Fred Walter got up, looked around, stepped to the window, saw his two sisters playing with friends in a sandbox below their apartment, saw over to the other side of the street and through the windows of their neighbours with white orchids standing behind the glass or curtains covering the windows anyhow, no money, no attention given to details, turned around on the spot and said `I have enough`. He closed his eyes, got off the shoes and stood before his friends that asked him what he had experienced in the room behind the door he had passed through. He kept silent.

Seth Wooly looked from side to side reassuring himself that his friends would agree that it was his turn to move forward. He got off his shoes, placed them accurate next to the shoes to wear next, put the new shoes on, was smiling realizing they fit him as they were fitting all of them the same way, universal size, stood before the door, locked back at his friends that encouraged him to push the door open. He stepped in the unknown room; the door closed behind him. He moved forward while the room unfolded its scenery. Overwhelmed was he standing in the House of Commons. He saw the seat next to the Speaker of the House was empty, the only empty seat in the House. He sat down. The faces of the MPs were on him. Seconds passed all MPs went about their daily business fighting with harsh words from side to side. He deeply loved this style of Democracy, he always had. It was so immense, so natural, so direct, people close to the face of the opposition that in anger a good slap would have been possible, a punch into the lives of others with the truth in someone hand. No, raw politics that distrained themselves not to leave their seats and push bloody faces rather showing red turning faces with swollen necks and blood vessels, that was dispute of the highest standard; well done, he was always saying when watching Prime Minister´s question time on Wednesdays. He was not an expert in politics at all and mostly not able to follow their mesic arguments, but the fighting for survival of great ideas in the light of opposition was his great pleasure to watch and follow. He knew in the House of Lords Peers would behave differently, not that entertaining for which reason live broadcasting from that place was not taken by BBC or Sky News. Somehow, we would have loved to see them live on TV with a good glass of lager and crisps in his hands, it would have been just simply such a great delight. No, he was not a great supporter of the monarchy but acknowledged the Royal Family, the firm as it was once labelled, brought in good revenues from Tourists that want to dive into a fairy tale setting, modern democracy and economy, yet old fashioned in its tradition not being moved by what pleases people. It was this bubble that UK was covered it that he always found so charming about the country he was holding citizenship of. The MPs ended their business and left the Chamber. Seth Wooly was all alone with the Speaker of the House. He finished his notes, bend down to him, and asked him whether he knew who in England and other countries with a democratic setting would be holding the real power? Seth Wooly was surprised about the question was the answer supposed to be very obvious. When he looked into the smiling eyes of the Speaker of the House and heard the answer, he was not willing to believe. The Speaker pointed his finger to the Civil Service. Politicians simply have no expertise in the areas to decide mostly, have no time to think much being entertainer mostly in the Media Scene and their local constituency, changing every four or some more odd years while more and more complex matters needed deep understanding of the current situation and foreseeable future. They were not in control of the information they receive to make adequate decisions, but served by the Civil Service with information they regard as being important to the Minister and MPs they have to serve with a long background of having served even the opposition during many years of debates. When Politicians are gone and finished, they still work for the next generation of Politicians. Game on! The Speaker mentioned to him that basically anyone with a convincing mind can sit there on the benches, in front or the backbenches. He pointed out these people that are supposed to voice the interest of their voters are free anyway by the Rules of the House once voted into the Chamber to vote for bills in accordance to their own conscience, not in accordance to the mandate they got, the reason they were placed into the House of Parliament in the first place especially when do not seek for a second term. To have been an MP even one for one term helps the clever man to be promoted in society faster than climbing the corporate ladder with hard work year after year. In other words, to make it in life is all about cleverness, not substance, and of course the entertainment factor not to forget. To use a strong voice, a convincing strategy, that is all it takes to make it in life as people often do not want to hear and be entertained by the truth, not to mention the hard truth, but want to get the feeling their MPs take good care of them and comforts them in times of need. No one in history of modern days has used his muscles, his body strength to make it to the top jobs in society. In the olden days Kings spearheaded their armies and lost their lives on the battlefields, times long past. The Speaker stressed out that in modern times not the best will, will be able to convince people that his know-how of issues will serve a country best, rather the best entertainer that like a player of a puzzle collects all bits and pieces puts them in the right order to make the picture complete, his ability to be the best candidate for the job here to voice his people´s concern. No, no...to make it to the job jobs in society would be a job for real entertainers and not people with substance...and Ministerial Civil Servants can assist when entertained to stay for long or wicked-minded people in the Ministries can withhold vital information and while Ministers have no time these days but are responsive to an ever faster working Media landscape, can easily tumble and fall. Seth Wooly had never thought about all these aspects of politics, but they made sense to him the more he started to think about the impressive words of the Speaker of the House. Night was falling. The Speaker had to go and have dinner with his family. Seth Wooly was all alone in the House of Commons. He stood in the middle of the Chamber, lifted his arms to the ceiling that was well carved in wood, shouted out that he can also make it, lowered his arms, looked down to the floor of the House and saw fog before his eyes. While he was lifting up his head again to look around the smell of lager hit his nose. His eyes searched between the benches. He turned around and around. The place where he was sitting, below the Speaker of the House, a small low lather chair, just there, and nowhere else, was a bottle of lager standing filling the Chamber with its distinctive aroma. He looked up the Chamber, raised his arms a second time, lowered it, walked to the seat he had sat on, opened the bottle of lager, took a sip, another one, emptied the whole bottle, got up and walked out by saying `I have enough`.

Linda Evans greeted Seth Wooly and asked him about what he had experienced behind closed door, but Seth Wooly kept quiet all by himself. He stood back behind his friends and looked around puzzled about what he had seen and heard. She wanted to know it again, see behind the doors what else to expect. She got off her high heels, slipped into the shoes fitting all, took a deep long breath, opened the door, and let is close behind her. moment by moment the scenery before her opened up. Was covered in thick white fog, was clearly visible as she walked further into the room. She touched the Tree of Life surrounded by plants, trees, flowers, flying insects uncountable. She looked up the Tree of Life and saw at all the healthy lash green branches red apple hanging down ready to be harvested. Peace and tranquillity filled the air, no worries to be found, no concerns to be voiced, peace everywhere around. Feeling as if she would not stand on solid ground was, she part of a surreal place that somehow deep inside her soul felt like home, home from long time past, yet still home. Linda Evans had the feeling to be back in the cradle of life, her beginning and her end. She was short of words as words to speak in such a place was not necessary; as no need to explain anything or to understand anything or to plan anything, only to be. She felt someone coming from behind. Linda Evans turned around. She looked into two blue eyes of a well-shaped man, not masculine as she was used to in her boyfriends to carry her away in times of trouble and hopes. This was a body so perfectly made, so unbelievable flawless, truly made not born. The stranger naked as he was smiled at her with no bad intentions. He seemed not to understand that he was naked as made; was a thought rushing through her mind. Out of the green was a woman suddenly appearing naked as well, a woman well shaped with a sign on her chest just below her beautiful sized breast, a rip that seemed to be special unlike the other once she was made of. That rip was indeed standing out as a clear sign of her identity, that is how Linda Evans saw it, the woman, and the rip.