Fear Page #2

---

cancer, a traffic accident.

Ah, to find the right way?

I'm hesitating.

When making love?

I'll have to find someone then,

Because these days...

If it's OK, I want to start over,

if it's insignificant,

I don't want to end up like that. I refuse.

Dead, the scandal...

I don't want to do it according to the rules.

I don't want to die joyfully.

That after everything, after so little,

nothing, just nothing remains,

no... I can't,

I refuse.

I'm afraid I don't have a

political conscience.

Maybe I'm hiding the truth to myself,

and I belong to the Right? Or worse?

I notice lately that I'm always

looking for reasons not to get involved.

but most of all I'm sensitive

to conservative arguments.

Most things shouldn't change too much,

youth can't stand in our way,

we should be able to reap the benefits

of what we acquired.

I'll become Left from centre.

I'm afraid of mediocrity.

I'd rather be a zero,

than mediocre.

To be unnoticed,

that's not a worthy destiny.

But I don't want to be pure.

The pure threatens us.

A messiah without scruples

will come and launder us.

To the vice. To the bone.

We shall not be able to see

behind the scenes of the big laundry.

Help!

Today we welcome a new student.

Introduce yourself to your class mates.

Ayakawa Sumako. I'll try

to be a good student.

Where do you live, Sumako-san?

- The old house at the waterfalls.

Behind the cemetery?

Yes I live there with my mother.

We used to live abroad,

in London where my father...

"Hajime Hajime, where are you,

here's a stranger..."

Children!

You'll have samurai Hajime

to deal with!

Be silent!

Who is this samurai Hajime?

It's an old story, Sumako-san.

The samurai has been dead for 100 years.

He's buried in the cemetery.

You will see him tonight.

He'll chop strangers to pieces.

That's enough!

Sumako, you can sit down.

Michio, as you're so smart:

why was Hajime executed?

You don't know. Stupid!

Nobody knows?

That will be the lesson for today.

Open your books on page 100.

Sumako, are you reading

the text next to the image?

"Samurai Hajime of the Satsuma-clan

was condemned to commit seppuku, a ritual

suicide, because he had robbed

and chopped to pieces an English officer

on the road to Tokaido

in the year 1865, the Edo era."

We are waiting for you, new one.

We are descendants of

samurai Hajime.

Hajime, you remember?

You are really ridiculous!

Yes? Really?

Do you dare to ridicule us?

You'd better not do that, Sumako.

- That's the way we treat people who aren't from around here!

- Stop it! Have mercy!

Go on, sweeties, go tickle her!

- No!

No!

It doesn't work like that, Sumako-chan!

You can't wake up in the middle of it,

you have to finish your dream until the end.

You have to sleep, Sumako-chan...

Sleep...

sleep...

Is anyone here?

Is anyone here?

Those fools are trying to scare me...

You are silly!

Don't hide yourselves,

I have seen you!

Samurai Hajime's grave!

Leaving already?

The samurai will come.

You don't seem to appreciate

our company.

Stay for a while,

you won't be disappointed.

And the samurai will gladly...

- Stop it!

There, there, don't get excited, Sumako,

you look tensed.

- And you didn't believe in ghosts.

Tomoko? Michio?!

You're going to die!

No! Stop it!

Sumako,

Sumako...

Michio!

Sumako's brains

Is that you, Sumako-chan?

Sumako?

Sumako?!

Has your first day at school gone well?

Now, Sumako-chan,

did you go on until the end?

That's not the way to do it, Sumako.

You have to finish your dream,

if you want to be cured...

cured...

cured...

cured...

I'm afraid to contribute to the

exhaustion of the planet

and not have the courage to do

something about it.

I don't know what to do.

I'm afraid because I'm not doing anything.

And I'm not doing anything because I'm afraid.

I absolutely have to do something!

I'm full of small fears

filling my head,

accompanying and surrounding me

like blunt poles.

They make me cringe!

Exist? Yes, but how?

Inside, outside, up? Down?

I'm afraid of humans.

Humans seem to be like wolves to humans,

but wolves aren't wolves to wolves.

A wolf doesn't devour another wolf.

But a human being... is a dangerous animal.

He exterminates animals. Picks the flowers.

Massacres his own kind.

They all agree to murder, intellectuals

and proletarians, the clean and unclean,

out of free will or forced,

with a pint, or an order,

through the head and forward, mate.

And women nowadays

join in as well, on all levels,

the woman is the future of the man.

Here, a bullet in the head, bastard.

I have the right, it seems,

I protect myself, I anticipate.

By accident I wound up

in the region where I spend

the most summers of my youth.

The great plains.

One of these summers had been

very peculiar.

Everything started with the

disappearance of my uncle.

He was poaching at night,

but his boat ran ashore.

It was empty.

Every night my aunt went to church

to pray for him.

I went along with her.

While she cried, I went outside

to play with my friend.

Often, always around the same time,

the ducks left the swamps.

Their behaviour rose suspicions

of what would occur the next days.

My friend who really didn't have any family

and who passed his time in the fields,

knew a lot of secrets about the animals.

One evening the last duck in the row

passed by with a broken wing.

According to my friend a wild animal which was

sneaking around in the area, was responsible for it.

And maybe one day we would face this

wild animal as well.

That night I slept with my eyes firmly shut

to keep away horrible dreams.

In the morning the police officers fished up

the maimed head of a farmer.

A gruesome crime!

Who could have done a thing like this?

My friend knew:

there are wild animals that descend

straight from the clouds,

and one of them was probably hiding

in the swamp.

That night

not a word was uttered at my aunt's.

And then on some afternoon my friend

disappeared as well.

The whole village went looking for him.

The fog was increasing ever more.

And I got lost...

like in a dream.

His bicycle was found again.

But that discovery didn't put

me at ease at all.

And the night fell.

What I thought I had seen,

was that my friend?

Or was it that monster?

Unless those two...

were one and the same being?

Eventually the game-keeper in charge

was brought in from the city.

To that man, who had crossed the mysterious

jungles of Africa,

it didn't matter if it was a wild animal

or a murderer.

Three days and three nights

he hid himself in the church-tower.

When he came down,

a wild scent was surrounding him.

He asked him to bring the

fattest goose in town,

and he started to set his trap.

Women and children were kept away

from the area.

Nobody was allowed to make any noise.

Since then no one in the region

had disappeared again,

even though my uncle has never returned

and my friend has never been found again.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes