As non-consent might not be everyone's category, I feel I should warn those who stumble across this story by coincidence. But I hope you enjoy my story.
To answer a question that has come up at other stories of mine: No, I am not a native speaker of English. I hope I didn't make (too many) mistakes, but as I only finished this story at the last moment, I couldn't find an editor in time anymore, so I hope you forgive me any mistakes.
Have fun reading.
~~~
βWelcome to our group, Alex! We are really glad to have you on board. There seem to be less and less people interested in our cause, it is really good to see some are still courageous enough..."
The girl smiled as she held out her hand to Alex. He took it, a strange feeling surging through him as her long, fine fingers wrapped around his thicker, stronger ones. Her touch was firmer than her fragile appearance would have made him expect.
"You have joined us just at the right time," she chatted on happily.
Alex barely listened. He was too much taken in by the surroundings. The room they were in was huge, big enough to hold hundreds of people. He could only see a good dozen though, at the most. Everyone seemed to be busy with something. A short, sturdy man with a short beard was painting red letters onto a large piece of white canvas. Two middle-aged women were talking to each other in whispers, the serious expressions on their faces indicating that it was more than simple small talk they were exchanging. A very tall young guy with a boyish face was stirring something inside a pot that hung over a bright fireplace. In the corner he was in, in the light of the fire, Alex could see the walls of the room better. They were uneven, and seemed to glisten slightly.
The truth was that he had no idea
where
he was. They had covered his eyes before they brought him here, and had taken him through was had felt like a labyrinth of streets and paths, changing direction all the time. He knew they were out of the city, the noise and smell had subsided somewhat along their journey. But in which direction, he did not know.
"Usually we wait longer before we give new members this type of information," the girl said. Alex listened up. Was he about to hear something important? "But someone with your credentials... I think we can trust you. We..." she hesitated. "We are planning something big for the last weekend of the month. For when the Toad is giving his speech on the city square."
"The Toad?" Alex asked confused.
The girl smiled. "The president. That's what we call him. Don't you think he looks just like a toad with his huge mouth and as fat as he is?"
Alex hesitated. "I... well... I don't know. What
is
a toad?"
Now the girl laughed, and the bright sound of her laughter seemed to fill the whole dark room with light for the fraction of a second.
"They never told you about toads in your old group?"
Alex frowned. What was he to reply to that?
"Don't worry," the girl continued already. She had stopped laughing, and instead gave him an encouraging smile. He noticed that her lips were of a soft, fresh red that no make-up would be able to imitate. "I know it is difficult to keep up with the names of all the extinct animals. Especially if you have never seen them."
Alex was surprised. "And you have seen... toads?"
The girl nodded. "Not real ones, of course," she explained. "But I have seen photographs. My grandfather had a whole collection."
Her face grew serious. "In fact, you can thank my grandfather that I am even here with you," she said.
"How so?" Alex inquired.
"Let's sit down." The girl pointed at a few rough benches and tables next to the fire place.
Alex happily took a seat. He felt like he had walked more today than in his entire life. The smell of soup had started filling the room, and he was hoping it was time to eat soon. And really, as soon as the girl had sat down next to him, all the other people let their work be and approached the table, too.
"This is Alex, the guy Stephen told us about," the girl introduced him. "These are Karla, Conrad, Basti, Vlad, Jean, Marie, Rafael, JosΓ©, Masha, our cook Tom, Liz, Lydia, Lina, and I of course am Lucy."
With everybody looking at him, Alex felt slightly uncomfortable. Some of the faces were friendly, smiling at him in the same expectant way Lucy did. Others seemed more suspicious. Particularly Vlad gave him a very distrusting look. Alex was glad when Tom went back to his fireplace and started to put big spoonfuls of stew into plates that Karla and Conrad then distributed over the table. Then, for a few minutes, there was only the sound of spoons hitting against plates to be heard in the room. The stew tasted excellent, particularly if you considered at how simple the ingredients were, Alex thought.
After a while, Lucy started speaking again.
"You wanted to know why my grandfather was the reason I became an activist?"
Alex nodded, before he put another spoonful of stew into his mouth.
"Well," Lucy said almost in a story-teller voice. "You see, he was what they called a nature photographer. Back in the old days, when there was still nature to photograph. That was of course all long before I was born. But he had hidden some of his photo albums, and when I was a child, every time I visited him, he allowed me to look at them. I loved them. I loved to see all the toads and frogs and ducks and deer and imagine what it must have been like, when they still roamed the earth. I imagined living in a forest, and being friends with all the animals, like in the fairy tales."
Lucy's face now indeed reminded Alex of that of a child that still believed in fairy tales. Her blue eyes shone brightly, and the light of the fire reflected in her wavy red hair.
"But they say these animals never existed," he said.
Across the table, a few eyes grew darker. Alex could see Vlad frown. Lucy also grew more serious again.
"Of course, they want us to believe that. They want us to think that the world has always been like it is now, and that the only things that change, change for the better. Progress. But it is not true, believe me. I have seen the photos. My grandfather has seen these animals, and forests, and meadows. Even my mom has, though she always claimed it wasn't true. She told me most of my grandfather's photos were fakes. But I know I can believe my grandfather more than I can believe her."
Alex nodded understandingly. "And what became of your grandfather's photos?"
Lucy's face grew dark. "They arrested him," she said. "They took the photos, too, I assume they burned them. That was when I was seventeen. My mother told me it was the activists' fault, they would have planted bad ideas into my grandfather's head. So I went off to find them. I was angry at first, I wanted revenge. But fortunately the first one I met was Vlad here," she pointed over the table, and Vlad's expression suddenly grew a lot less severe, "and thanks to him I learned that I had had it the wrong way. Well, since them I am in this group. Four years altogether."
"Have you ever heard of your grandfather again?" Alex asked in a serious voice.