Marv Gosh E-Book

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• Herausgeber: Simone Pugliesi
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Simon Elsha is a 26-year-old boy who works in a studio in Ghost City County as a psychologist.  Of all the patients, a new boy, Marvel Gosh, will be the one who will strike him most of all.  Indeed, he will find a solid relationship of friendship with him that will make him violate any professional code existing between a psychologist and a patient. Between funny moments, dramas, secrets, joints and alcohol, the two will find comfort in each other, session after session. So, the strange patient, at the end of each session, will reveal to the doctor some premonitions about some strange things that will really happen in the following days. At the same time a killer sows dead in the county. As if that were not enough, some patients begin to talk to the boy about a spirit, a man without hands, who comes out of bed or closet at night, causing deaths in sleep to more than one person. Between surreal stories and strange vicissitudes, the quiet but hectic life of Simon will be completely upset, in a totally unexpected way.

Leseprobe

Marvel Gosh

The summer that was coming would be the hottest summer ever in Ghost City, because of strange currents.

I was spying from the window of my room Linda, my neighbor, who many nights gave me shivers, especially the nights I saw her undressing her bathrobe and putting on intimate lingerie for the night, as now, when the ringing of my phone sadly catapulted me into the real world.

I'm Dr. Simon Elsha, 26, and I've been a psychologist for four years. I have a firm in a condominium of lawyers and other shitty people full of money and cocaine.

I just stopped dating my former secretary Grazia, very pretty girl, always moved with a graziella.

But he knew how to break a lot of balls.

He always told me that I heard the music too loud and that I would go deaf, but if I didn't go blind with all my haandswork as a boy, my hearing was not in danger at all.

Her was a very clear and transparent person, so transparent that I could see them through.

Ate only white rice and fish, and then her shit sushi.

On the phone was a Marvel Gosh, he wanted to make an appointment with me for the following week.

I marked his name on my diary and set the date, the eleventh of this month.

He immediately put down, he had a strange voice, a particular tone, he was restless to say the least. I looked out the window and thought it would be nice if one day someone would be a psychologist to me, sometimes I would really need it.

Last week, a really weird thing happened to me.

Like every Friday, my last therapy was two hours with Liz, a freaky teenager tormented by the spirit of her ex who usually visited him during the nights. She had taken me for Dylan Dog but she was the only one I listened to willingly, I never knew if it was just fantasies and if it was all true. I just listened, because I couldn't help her, since she was sure it wasn't about hallucinations.

She died in her sleep the following night, a classic white death, my suspicions began there, but I wasn't a detective and she wasn't my patient anymore, so I gave up everything, even if today I still think about this story.

Bah, weird women.

The day he returned to work was the day Marvel Gosh had his first session.

He introduced himself to me and then whispered to me that he needed to talk, to throw out things that he had kept inside for too long, and I nodded.

By phone it was more mysterious, more disturbing. Not live, but he was a little bit depressed, at least at first glance, a weak person who sought his strength. It was still pretty shady.

He had black hair, classic double cut, green eyes, big nose and fine lips, and she had an Arab style beard. Two tears wet his cheeks, and then go into his lips leaving that bitter taste in his mouth, now bitter as life. His mind went back in time.

I nodded the patient into starting his session.

He looked at me and said "Let me speak, without interruptions please, otherwise I will lose the thread of speech".

I said yes with my head, but I didn't say shit about anything.

<I'm Marv,Marvel Artur Gosh,born and raised in a strange country in Central Europe called Italy,in Rome,by an American father and rich,36 years ago.

In this country it is easy to socialize, the climate is one of the best, especially in Central and South. The people are very welcoming, even in spite of the current social status. You can eat very well, you can taste excellent wine and is equipped with every kind of comfort.

The houses where you live are more than decent and comfortable, and in recent years prices are falling, even compared to other European cities. The health system is one of the best in the world, schools are good, art does its part (also done the rhyme) and some landscapes have a I know that artistic. It has fantastic seas, amazing seaside resorts and fabulous places, small corners of paradise.

It may have many virtues, but it's also a dark place. Passing through Falcone and Borsellino, Aldo Moro, P2 and Freemasonry, for many strange cases, some never resolved.

All these things have made me grow up with terror, anxiety, panic. They've given me a lot of fear.

The people of this country do not like to be, but to appear, the important thing is to feel beautiful, dress well, follow the fashion and praise football, for football you clash, you kill and you go to manifest. Serious problems are complained about on the web or in bars, but the facts are not there. Few balls, many assholes. Many change opinions as the wind changes, they think one thing and say another, they hate a politician but then they vote again, they don't want migrants in Italy, but they go to hookers with Nigerians, and when they close the ports they also protest violently against those who imposed the closure. They don't understand that migrants don't have to come to Italy anymore because of the simple fact that if they don't make the houses for the earthquake victims first (see L'Aquila and Amatrice) there isn't any way to keep these people in the resorts, and it's also due to a fact of 'war' against the boatmen, since many people die at sea during the trip, very avoidable deaths. We have a lot to do to help this country, once done you can also help others, why not.

It's not about racism, it's about priorities!

Yet years back it was a highly respected country.

He had a lot of creativity and inventiveness, and many artists were born there. It was one of the most productive countries in Europe.

There was more money going around, even in football, and life wasn't prohibitive. It was a fairly rich state, even the salaries were good, or at least decent. The restaurants and clubs were much more crowded and there were many activities that remained open quietly. And there were no cooperatives everywhere.

We were mostly all virgins, then the euro fucked us all up.

Since the Euro has closed at least 200 agencies a day.

And we found ourselves 'slaves' of Germany.

Of course the main problem is the monetary one, but in spite of everything it's a great place.

Many call it the Belpaese, reluctantly left it two years ago, I needed to start from scratch, and in Italy is currently difficult to do this, if not impossible.

A January of nineteen years ago he went to buy my first cigarettes at a tobacconist's under my house. I chose Camel blue because my uncle Vito smoked it too, just for that.

There was a little beige dog across the street, and I chaimaì it to me. He hesitated a little, a little too much, and when he decided to cross he was run over by a fucking Citroen car, which didn't even stop. Not a night goes by that I still do not hear the noise of the body under the wheels, and leads me to have attacks of anxiety still now. If you hadn't called him, he'd definitely still be alive.

The following month, a man named Elviro Bro, a gross serial rapist, escaped from prison. One night shortly after midnight, while I was returning from the pub with friends, he sneaked into our house and tried to rape my mother. She succeeded in half, she had a knife under her pillow, she hit him 17 times, I went right in towards the end, it was horrible. I called the police, but then took my mother away, then they found mental insanity and went to the clinic, where it is still today. Often I feel guilty for calling the police, but it had to be done, I thought they gave her a legitimate defense, but I knew that it had gone a little further.

This memory gives me heartburn, and strong pain in the middle of my back. He stayed with my father and it wasn't bad, even if there could be more dialogue between us.

He went on to explain to me some details of the facts told before, he spoke at length without me having had the opportunity to answer or say anything. Then he went out. < Okay Mr Gosh, got it. Well, if you don't talk about what you feel in the dark with no one, your body gets sick and sends you signals.

In the case of your mother for example, stomach pain is because you have never really digested this story, back pain is because of guilt. You made the right choice to come here. You want to add more, you still have ten minutes to spare.

< Already>replied Marvel Gosh<own the best choice. No, anyway I leave in three minutes, scarce, just a few points if you will allow me. Tell me, Dr. Simon Elsha, you have twenty-seven years to complete shortly, tell me, it's not a little early to do this work, I mean, you don't have much experience? Fucking remarkable, though, he fucking is. But you can see that you are a good boy, he does well what he does, I see a joyful future for her, but it will have to wait a while. He has a dramatic secret that he carries inside in great silence, something not from nothing. Except for your close friends, who are few, but good, you've never talked to anyone, ever. But I know you think about it a lot, I know that.

Another thing Dr. Elsha, you have the classic face of those who sleep with a window open at night, in the evening you massacre smoking weed in the room, is not it? But believe me, don't do it from tomorrow until Thursday, there will be a snowstorm and it will be a rare cold, even if no weather knows it. I was alibied. What was this man babbling about? < Excuse me Mr Gosh, but how do you know these things? I smoke weed in the room, but I do not masscachro there, well oh my God, it depends, and anyway yes, I leave open a window, but also to get air, not only to let out the smell, and sorry for the question, but what the fuck are you saying? Who doesn't have something to hide?

And anyway, here in Ghost City there has never been a snowfall, let alone a snowstorm.

Although this morning I felt the smell of snow, a different air, but maybe I'm wrong, and she's wrong too. In any case, next week same day same time, I think you have more to tell me, and still the session is not over yet, she has paid for 55 minutes, and it has been just 47 since she stepped in here. However, you have perfectly photographed the situation in Italy, even if it is getting up now.> He nodded and offered me his hand, shook it and left, without talking.

I sat there speechlessly, then lived on it, and relaxed me for a good half hour. Then came a patient, hornified by his wife and still under schock. He wasn't under horns, no, but because his wife was a vegan and had just given her a baby, Alfie. The little one was also a vegan inside, so much so that his first word was tofu, and he didn't drink from his mother's breast, but only soy milk in his bottle.

I understood your pain, but sometimes life has unpleasant surprises for us.