Grey, white and red – Poor little Gaba


“What’s that, what’s this?  There are bullets in the air?”

Gaba screams and hides behind her mother.
“Your father tries to hunt pigeons, but he will finally kill me, that drunken asshole.”

Gabor & hunting. His grandfather showed him how to handle a rifle as he was a little boy.  He hated it. But he had to join every hunt. The smell of the dead bodies ever disgusted him.  Flesh.  Hunting = not white, but red.  Gabor didn’t understand red or the craving for red.  Red = suffering.  He liked white, and he liked to observe the pigeons on the roof. The white ones were his favourites, of course. They were very beautiful. Gabor wasn’t interested in the grey pigeons, because grey was everywhere.  The house was grey, the clothes of his mother, the flowers on the pavement, and even the skin on his father’s face.  Grey, grey, grey; the whole damn world was grey, and even the blue sky didn’t keep its promise.  Rain = no hope on the roof.  Those wonderful white birds.  Every time Gabor was watching and sharing his secret dreams with them, they made him shiver in a warm and fuzzy way. A million times he was flying away with them in his thoughts, escaping from the grey world. They promised to take him with them. Grey is nothing.  

“NOTHING!  It’s nothing.”

Sometime the pigeons were gone.  And never came back again.  The sky stayed blank.  Greyness everywhere. Time passed by. They tried to explain red to Gabor. But he couldn’t understand. Maybe he didn’t want to. White, white, white. The bride was majestic like the wonderful pigeons on the roof.  Gabor and she will fly away together.  Far away.  Right now.  The white became covered red. Flesh. Disappointment = murderer of dreams, but raising hope. Since their wedding day his wife dressed in grey.  She gave birth to a daughter: Gaba. Gabor and Gaba. No dreams in grey, or suffering. 

Blue sky.  
Bang bang bang.  
“I shoot one, I shoot one.”

Gabor & hunting. He learned to love it. He had to. It’s is a relief to him, the great escape.  No, the great escape has to be red and white, but that is very hard to get.  Usually it’s red and grey: a bit of disappointment, suffering, hope and meaninglessness. Flesh. Being alive, at least for some seconds. Gabor ever wanted to forget about the question that was torturing his mind since the day they left him: Why?  The promise got broken. Twice.  He started hating his wife since the wedding night. And Gaba became a dreamer. Why? = stupid question.

“There, look, your father shot four pigeons. Lucky retard.” Gaba’s mother smirks.  
“Shut the fuck up!” Gabor yells angrily and throws the dead pigeons in front of his daughter.
“They are for you, my little darling.”
Gaba stares at them.
 They are all grey.  
NOTHING.  
She takes her father’s rifle and shoots a bullet into his head.
 Flesh.
 Her white trousers turn red between her thighs.  
Red, red, red.  
Broken promise again.  
The sky is turning blue.  

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