Chapter 1 Twerpville Origin Story
Chapter 1: Once Upon A World And Time…
Synopsis
Deception, the art of making someone believe an untruth. It has four categories. One of which happens to be ‘Isolating lies involving knowledge of another person.’ A little boy is about to be given a masterclass on this dreadful night.
Outside a gothic monastery building, utilized as an orphanage, a young Deytraké is given some devastating news that would change his life forever. A great yawning black hole had devoured his parents, and the twisted hand of fate had thrust him from his former life into a new unforgiving reality.
Emerging from this horrific childhood, Mr. Deytrake had become a twisted individual; his cruel nature resulted from the years spent in the orphanage. Successful though he was, he had become obsessed with reaching out to his parents beyond the grave.
Mr. Deytraké’s search had so far ended in despair, but his path led him to Roza, a gifted individual that he believed held the answers he was looking for.
Chapter 1
Deception, the art of making someone believe an untruth. It has four categories. One of which happens to be ‘Isolating lies involving knowledge of another person.’ A little boy is about to be given a masterclass on this dreadful night.
The pretentious guardian stood beside him. One slimy hand placed upon the little boy’s shoulder appeared to be a source of comfort. A deliberately tightened grip triggered compliance in the child’s brain. The two individuals are barely noticeable in the shadows, fitting against the eerie monastery-like building.
The Orphanarium gave an ominous atmosphere. The gothic architecture was unwelcoming. Its design originated in Europe in the middle ages, with the classic pointed arches integral to its exterior. Grotesque stone figures protrude from the gutters; their original function of spouting water overflow is now unnecessary. The monstrous gargoyles with exaggerated features were still intact. They looked down below, offering no protection but bearing testament to the unfolding misery. The interior had long been stripped of its original features. The one exception was an enormous stained glass window greeting you upon entry.
This tragic scene remained motionless as the police car approached. The intensity of the blue rotating light encircled the pair. The boy remained stationary, mystifying though it must have been to a six-year-old. The gravity of the situation was not lost on the policeman, and luckily, the dutiful officer was blessed with a calming manner. He managed to maintain eye contact by lowering himself to a level with the boy’s height. “I have something very unfortunate to tell you. You see, your Mummy and Daddy have been in an accident, and they have both died.” It is said that children of such a young age cannot understand the permanency of death. This could be true of young Deytraké. Nonetheless, no amount of sensitivity could save him from the following sentence, the implications of which he understood all too well.
“Orphaned at such a young age.” And there it was, the punch in the gut. ‘An orphan!’ Deytraké’s conceptualization of the word orphan was not derived from the beauty of children’s literature. Orphans such as Peter Pan, Oliver Twist, or Cossette command respect and admiration. They are often children portrayed as free from familial obligations, usually on some epic adventure. Well, no orphan origin story came to mind on this dismal night. The disbelief for the newly orphaned boy caused a rush of adrenalin to course through his body. Both mind and body seemed to freeze. Then, in quick succession, came uncontrollable shaking. The policeman’s gaze glimpsed a sight of a story yet untold. He’d always loathed this location and to tell a little boy he is an orphan actually in front of the Orphanarium was mind-blowing. Retreating into the police car, he sought safety with his familiarity. He drove away, taking the strange blue lights with him, glad he had fulfilled his role.
The evening was almost complete; the pair entered the orphanage behind them. Gazing upwards, the child saw a rusty sign overhead like some cruel baby’s mobile, creaking back and forth. The scriptures upon it read, ‘John 14:18 I shall not leave thee as orphans. I will come to you.’ Why, then, at this spot was young Deytraké’s soul left abandoned?
Deytraké entered the building and stood beneath the stained glass window. From his perspective, it was enormous. The entrance hall was dimly lit, meaning the true magnitude of the beautiful colors within the window was lost. The boy could barely make out the scene on the glass, completely unaware that in the past, the bible story the scene depicted was for people who could not read… just like him.
It was apparent that uncle Felix felt no sympathy for the boy. Their relationship between uncle and nephew couldn’t be further from the conventions of society. Deytraké knew one thing. His uncle was a liar. Felix looked down at his nephew, who had his mother’s eyes, ice blue, with long dark eyelashes. He was in there somewhere, lost in his grief. The black curls framing his face fell softly like a renaissance angel. Attempting to hide his fragile, emotional state, he gently lifted his hand and wiped away falling tears, but the tears came in quick succession. He had never had to dry his tears before. He mouthed “Mummy, Daddy” silently to comfort himself, knowing better than to reach out to his guardian.
Being a leading and renowned psychiatrist, Uncle Felix knew all too well the stages of grief. He heaved a large sigh, “You’ll be sleeping in the robin’s room this evening. Each dormitory has been named after British Birds, including Kestrels, Herons, and Starlings.” Upon completing his sentence, Felix knew he might as well be speaking ancient Greek. The information was lost entirely on the now exhausted child. So his uncle gestured toward one of the beds, and the little boy walked toward it without guidance. The massive door into the dorm closed with a very gentle clink. Felix had disappeared without a kind word.
Broken and alone, the child climbed onto the bed, wishing he had died too. He huddled up and compressed his body into a tiny ball. His legs were crossed underneath him, shoes were still on his feet, and his laces fastened. The decision to create the smallest body shape possible was a subconscious one. The clothes that he wore were chosen for him that morning by his Mummy. The collar of his shirt was cold against his cheek and now damp with tears. Eventually, exhausted, he found himself in deep slumber. He was far away, for now, from his frightening new reality. A reality in which he was alone. A great yawning black hole had devoured his parents. The twisted hand of fate had thrust him from his former life into a new unforgiving reality in which there would be no family meals, no kind smiles, and no mum.
The gradual awareness that he was having a flashback created confusion momentarily. The man’s teeth clenched. He didn’t get them much these days, thankfully. Mr. Deytraké tensed to suppress an involuntary shoulder shrug. Why does the body keep an account of adversity in childhood? Nobody would dare to put a hand on his shoulder these days. Anyways, It’s time to minimize that particular window. He had work to do.
Mr. Deytraké’s attire spoke volumes. No sloppy t-shirt and bedhead attempting to look ‘cool’ on work calls. His meticulous attention to detail was apparent in his elegant suit, which fitted perfectly. Mr. Deytraké joined the meeting preoccupied with a speck of blood on his jacket sleeve. He scratched it with his nail repeatedly, trying to remove it, clearly agitated. He suddenly looked out at the various faces appearing on his screen. He looked on in disdain. Most of them accept their choice to be in Mr. Deytraké’s employment but secretly seek to fulfill new roles as far away from him as possible. They, in return, offered begrudging respect.
Top left of Mr. Deytraké’s screen was his lawyer, Henry. Henry was old school. He had a bald head, tufts of gray hair at the sides, and he chain-smoked the fattest cigars in the world. No one truly knows what he looks like because there is always a cloud obscuring his face. What can be seen is the nicotine stains on his fingers. More importantly, he had a talent for making money. Mr. Deytraké liked that, though he didn’t particularly like Henry. With Mr. Deytraké’s endless dirty deals, Henry had often protected him from the authorities’ wrath. Henry might stink of MonteCristos and Cohibas, but he was one hell of a lawyer.
Top and center was Wendy, the P.A. She was very well organized but always up against it as she had three small children and Mr. Deytraké’s challenging schedule. On the call, Wendy could be seen disappearing from view and appearing at regular intervals as she used her abilities to tend to her children’s needs and cater to Mr. Deytraké. She never missed a meeting, and Mr. Deytraké could not function without her. Unfortunately, he hated children, and Wendy knew it. There were various audible sighs from him when he could hear children crying. Consequently, Mr. Deytraké and Wendy’s working relationship remained strained but functional. If she weren’t so good, she would be gone, but she was, so she stays.
Far-right on Mr. Deytrake’s screen was Edward, a company Director. He couldn’t be more useless. His incompetency knew no bounds, but he was a shareholder, so he had a seat at the table. Mr. Deytraké made sure Edward got the crap jobs, including the thankless task of mentoring the trainees. That job was so far beneath Mr. Deytraké that he couldn’t even bring himself to speak to Edward about it. Edward liked trainees on calls as they made him look good by asking stupid, pointless questions.
Rick was the trainee on this call and was very keen to impress. He was smartly dressed, in a far cheaper suit than was acceptable, and he always had a framed picture of the boss behind him on the wall. Which was an ongoing source of laughter for others on the call, but they were used to such futile gestures by trainees. Mr. Deytraké shook his head at such gestures. Rick was what could be described as a nice guy. Mr. Deytraké didn’t like nice guys. He interpreted this as weak, and from his horrendous childhood, he knew weakness was not an option. Survival at any cost was his mantra, and that was how Mr. Deytraké conducted business.
Finally, there was the accountant Percy. Percy was a weasel. He had weaselly features and a weaselly demeanor. He looked after the money and turned a blind eye when Mr. Deytraké asked him to, which included the siphoning off of money into various hidden accounts. The books were so cooked you could smell them from four blocks away. At least you could if you knew what Percy knew. Mr. Deytraké had incriminated Percy in various ways throughout the years, so if he went down, so did Percy, making the relationship mutually beneficial.
As a collection of employees, they were a necessary evil for Mr. Deytraké. They rarely met in person as business was mainly conducted online. Mr. Deytraké liked his employees to be pixelated and not in person. In-person meant niceties like ‘Pull up a chair and have a coffee’ Online was distant and a red button away from a digitally slammed door. He liked it that way. Also, he got absolute joy from leaving everyone waiting in the online lobby for twenty minutes before he started the meeting.
Why was this particular meeting critical? It was the sale of the old orphanage, outbuildings, and surrounding acres of deserted land. The news of the deal offered confirmation of his evil guardian’s demise. The cruel old bastard had finally died. That sick savage who had plagued his life was no longer with us. A smirk crossed Mr. Deytraké’s face. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. Ordinarily, doing deals was where his unsympathetic nature worked; however, this deal was triggering a significant degree of anxiety, perhaps stirred by the knowledge of his intentions for the place. Safe to say, for now, kept under lock and key.
The call rumbled on and killed time with the insignificant business. Each person performed just enough when called upon. Everyone recognized his priority of the old orphanage, although his workforce wouldn’t dare question his motives. Finally, confirmation in real time showed up on everyone’s screens simultaneously. The orphanage was now officially his — the relief visible on all faces but one. Mr. Deytraké’s face was unchanged. He was not akin to showing emotion as his work colleagues would.
The host brought the meeting to an abrupt end. Thankfully Mr. Deytraké had left the forum, so he could not witness Wendy’s angry moment. The overwrought mum flipped her middle finger at a blank screen, mouthing a cuss word. For the rest of the day, her laptop remained switched off.
There was one more appointment on Mr. Deytraké’s calendar that day, and he would be closed off to the world of finance for the remainder of the afternoon. The appointment was for Roza, who believed a flicker of light remained in his dark soul. He believed she was the one person on this earth that had walked between Heaven and Hell…
