Writing Challenge–Day 6

The instruction for Day 6 of the 30-Day writing challenge reads:

Brief: Write a story that includes: twins, a 12-layer cake, a house that seems to be haunted but isn't…

This is a problem with wide-base challenges – every entrant must complete assignments  covering a wide range of subjects, even though he would never enter some of those situations ordinarily.  I am particularly stumped by matters such as cakes and cooking. ‘Haunted’ is a word that doesn’t conjure up wild ideas for me, so my reader should pardon the lack of originality in this assignment.

A blonde young man hops off a sophisticated-looking cycle, and pushes it across the pavement into a private garage attached to a little boutique hotel. His name is Thijs van Houten. A lot of people have a problem with his name, so a short explanation is appropriate. ‘Thijs’ is pronounced “Tay-ss” and is an abbreviated form of Matthijs, which is the Dutch equivalent of Matthew. The family name ‘van Houten’ means “from or family of the forest ” (pronounced “Fun Hoh-tin”). If he had therefore been born to English parents, he would most likely have been known as ‘Matt Forrester.’

Thijs locks the garage with his bike safely inside and pockets the key. He cycles for 60 minutes every day between 6:00 and 7:00 wherever he finds himself (if it is practical to do so, otherwise he delays the exercise until a more practical time. Rain does not interfere with his routine, as his cycling attire is of the highest quality and design as all-weather wear. Thijs is proud to be at the top of his sport, although he is not in that elite group classified as “professional”, as he found that he did not generally agree with the habits and ethics, or the general spirit and camaraderie of many members of that group generally.  

He enters the hotel and heads for his room. En route, he encounters one of the chamber maids”Good morning, Madame,” he smiles at the woman, “Perhaps you can enlighten me: I was out cycling on the road north of the town, and I encountered a property near the river with a large sign, saying ‘Haunted House – Please Come In’ . This is something I do not understand. Do you know the place?”

“Yes,” she confides in a strong German accent, “I know the place. That is not really haunted. It is… how do you say… it is an entertainment place… it is like a night-club for teenagers… yes, I would say it is a nightclub.”

“Thank you, Madame, I am interested in the paranormal and the possibilities of life after death, so the sign… you know… ” Thijs continues down the corridor to his room.

He undresses his cycling attire, showers and dresses, meticulously choosing the impeccably laundered and ironed casual shirt and short trousers, finished with a brilliant orange thermal short-sleeved waistcoat. It is his favourite, not only because it is neat and smart, is comfortable and warm, but also because with three useful pockets and is in his favourite colour, Orange, the colour which identifies him and millions of his compatriots wherever they go. He is proud to be a citizen of The Netherlands, in fact he hopes that people will stop him in the street and question him. 

Today is a birthday. Thijs’s twenty-ninth, in fact. Yes, this very day, the twelfth of June twenty-nine years ago, a diminutive Thijs Hein van Houten was one of the babies born at the Bronovo clinic in the Hague. And, his birthday was the reason for him being in Thun. He planned to spend a few days at this little hotel in peace and quiet.

Thijs also had one very special reason for being in Thun. A reason which very few people would understand.

Thun is a Swiss town situated where the River Aare flows into Lake Thun. He had been there on a family holiday many years ago, and the town obviously held certain fond memories for him. The simple act of standing on one of the bridges, for instance and watching the water below, could conjure up many memories. Some could make him smile or laugh, whilst others would bring tears to his eyes.

Thijs heads off in search of a confectioner-bakery called Petersen Cakes. He walks briskly up Sustenstrasse, a distance of roughly 500 metres. He passes a luscious green field with some groups of youngsters practising football. It is strange that the field has no white boundary lines painted on the grass, but there is a set of goals at each end of the field. There is absolutely no sign of any traffic. A few bicycle-riders have gone past. The views of the snow-clad mountains in the background is absolutely amazing. The gardens in front of the neatly-maintained houses are lush, colourful and impeccable in appearance.

When he reaches Shorenstrasse running parallel with the railway reserve, he turns left and walks along the road for about 550 metres, until he reaches an intersection with Schulstrasse. He passes a few pedestrians possibly making their way to the railway station? Here he turns right and goes under the railway bridge a short way from the intersection. When he reaches a hair-dressing salon, he knows instinctively that Petersens is nearby. 

Just past the salon, he sees the sign set back in a little parking square off Schulstrasse.

“Petersens – Bake A Cake” it reads.

Inside there are a variety of mouth-watering aromas, baking and confectionary smells, the hint of freshly-baked breads, and the distinctive hint of chocolate. Thijs approaches the man behind the counter. He is wearing a white baker’s coat.

“Hi, are you Joachim? I’m looking for Joachim Petersen,” Thijs enquires.

“What can I do for you to-day, sir?” comes the response, without any admission of identity.

“I want to speak to the Twelve Layer Cake Champion. I believe his name is Joachim Petersen, formerly of  Salzburg in Austria.”

The mention of the Austrian city changes the mood of the conversation. The man in the white coat turned and calls out towards the back of the shop, “Maria, please mind the counter for me while I attend to my guest.”

With that, he motions the orange-clad Thijs into a separate office-like room adjoining the main shop and closes the door behind them. The room has shelves along one wall, a window looking out onto a pretty little tea-garden on the other. There is a desk with computer, telephone and some magazines. Three upholstered easy chairs with a coffee table is where they sit.

“You have a Dutch accent, sir. You are one of the Van Houten twins, are you not? It has been two years, I know, but I was away on medical service in Africa, and have only recently returned to Switzerland.”

Thijs listens attentively without interrupting.

“Oh… Oh… Can I get you a coffee, sir, while we talk?

Thijs shakes his head in the negative, “No, thanks, I do not want to keep you from your work for too long.”

“No, sir, I am in no hurry. We need to speak. I need to explain…” he clasps and unclasps his hands nervously.

“The tragic accident of two years ago happened without any witnesses other than your dear twin brother and… not me, but my late father. I say ‘late’, because sadly he was killed six months ago when a huge truck ran out of control one evening, mounted the pavement and fatally struck my father Joachim who was out walking his little dog at the time.”

With a slight degree of embarrassment, “Apologies: I am Joachim Junior, I have taken over the business from my father. Mother’s health does not allow her to be involved in the day to day matters of the shop,” Joachim explains.

“Since the day of the accident in Salzburg, I have been aware of your family, but it is so difficult, you know, near impossible… to approach you to speak about this… this very sad matter… I really do not know what to say…. My father claimed that he had swerved across the road to avoid hitting a young child who came running out into the street, directly into his pathway… It was so tragic that your brother just happened to be on the other side at that very moment on that very space….”

Joachim pauses momentarily, then continues, “One fact of which I am one hundred percent sure, Thijs,” he uses the name for the first time, “if I may call you by your name, sir, and that is” My father was not intoxicated.”

Joachim stopped and first looks at the floor then out of the window for a few moments.

“In all my life I have never seen my father with a drink, nor in any state of having had any alcohol. He was what they call a ‘teetotaller.’ So, that there is even the slightest possibility that alcohol was involved in the accident, as the newspapers tried to insinuate at the time, is out of the question. Of that I am certain. And secondly, he was a careful and experienced driver… he was in no way negligent… I am so sorry… I know that all these things may be trivial to you… you have lost your brother… through no fault of his own… I am so sorry, Thijs... I do not know what I can do to help in the healing of your grief…”

For a while both men sit in silence, looking at one another and out at the tea garden. Then Thijs speaks.

“It is probably difficult for other people to understand, but being a twin is a very special relationship. It is almost like being one half of a two-half person… I don’t know how to put it… if your brother feels bad, then you feel bad. If he feels excited, you feel the same excitement… what happens to one, automatically happens to the other… once when he fell off his bike in a collision on a corner during a race in our home town, I immediately experienced terrible pains in my left leg… it was so severe that I could not pedal any further… not even five metres… the race paramedics declared that he had broken his leg… but they were puzzled, because they could find absolutely nothing wrong with me… yet I was unable to walk…”

“On the night of the accident, we were practising for a race which would take place at the weekend, he went for an extra 10k run, while I went into the race organisers’ office to collect our official numbers… I can remember it clearly… I was waiting in the queue.. it was just before seven… suddenly, for no reason at all, I felt hot and cold, dizzy and I could not stand up… they told me that I had passed out, probably from exhaustion… I know know that it was the precise moment of my brother’s impact with the car…it was the worst moment of my life…”

Joachim looks ahead, a bit stunned, “I am sorry… so sorry. I am so sorry, Thijs…”

“No, Joachim, I did not come here for sympathy. And I am sorry that you, too, have had to lose someone as lose as your father. But I simply need closure on the matter. None of us can live in the past forever. We need a period for grieving, but then we need to cut loose those ties and move on… It is obviously not easy, but now I know that I must do it…”

“You see, today is our twenty-ninth birthday, my brother’s and mine. Today I say a final goodbye to him, just like I say my first hello to him in the maternity ward on the day that we were born…”

Thijs pauses for a moment, reflecting with a sly little grin, “Perhaps we said our first hello before our birth?”

Thijs rises, puts out his hand and firmly grips Joachim’s hand, “Thank you, Joachim.”

Then he opens his arms and, most uncharacteristically, hugs his host, “And give my warmest regards to your mother. Thank you and farewell, Joachim.”

He turns and walks out of the building back into Schulstrasse, back into his new future.

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[  2,100 words ]

[  The brief for Day 7 reads:  Your character gets a call from someone asking to talk to "David." "You have the wrong number," your character says. But instead of hanging up, the caller and your character get to chatting, and they decide to meet later that night...  ]