Chapter 4: Something in my eye

My heart is racing as I cover my hands over my head in fear of the building about to collapse.  A slight ringing in my ear subsides as I stand up to look out of the window. A bomb had bees dropped a few streets down from where I was staying. I don't have time to think, I just grab my stuff and rush out of the building. People running about shouting things in French. Flashbacks of that days running through my mind. I run the opposite direction away from the smoke filled air.

One after another bombs fall down in the far distance. What was I thinking coming here, I feel like I've signed up for a death wish.

I run and run until I can run any further. Ambulances racing down the roads once again, sirens and screams. Why wasn't anyone here warned of potential attacks, or maybe they were and they decided to just ignore them.

I crouch into a ball while people push past me. I am scared.

A warm and gentle hand rests on my shoulder then takes my hand and drags me into the direction of a vehicle. "Get in!" The man shouts as he almost pushes me into the open car door and gets in then speeds off.

I am too shocked to realise what had just happened, my face is buried in my hands still and my body is shaking. "You are ok now, I will get you to a safe place" the man speaks although his tone fails his words through shaky breaths. I realise I recognise that voice and I glance up to see the old man from the pub. "It's you! How did you find me!" I almost shout in surprise. "A happy coincidence I suppose. I had been staying at a hotel not far from where I found you, I heard the bombings and commotion so left the building to get to my car and stumbled upon you crouched on the ground. Luck is definitely on our side wouldn't you say?" The man speaks slightly more relaxed now that we had reached the outskirts of the city away from the noise. "Yes I suppose your right" I say.

The drive was quiet for a while, I think the man knew I hadn't wanted to talk or perhaps he was also in shock.

Eventually he turns on the radio and hums along to an old French tune. His calming melody lulls me into a slumber as I rest my head against the window and the let the movement of the car rock me to sleep.

"We're here" The man calls out, jolting me awake. "Already?" I ask, "already? You've been out of the count for the past 5 hours! Here, take a look" the man says as I turn my head to take in the view, my breath stollen from me as I encounter mountains dripped in greenery, a lake glazed over with flecks of glitter as the sun shines down and beautiful buildings hanging off the sides of the rock face. "What in the... where are we?!" I exclaim "this my dear is Locarno, we have crossed the boarder and are now in Switzerland. I hope you don't mind but I went through your bag to show your ID in order for you to get here" he says "oh no that's fine" I reply dazed by the breath taking landscape before me.

The man opens his door and climbs out his car "this was in fact the destination I had written on the card I'd given you, it is a safe place, the war for now won't be coming near here for a while. I had planned on coming here myself a week back but got held up with business in Dijon." He explains. "Ahh alright" is all I can say as my body instinctively follows his lead and leaves the car behind while we walk down a path towards a magnificent building. "This is the Madonna del Sasso Sanctuary, and this is also where I am meeting an old friend who may be of interest of you regarding you artwork" the man exclaims as he claps his hands together and sets foot inside. "But I don't even know what to say or do, all I have are my sketches, what will that even install for me" I proclaim "your sketches are all you need, don't worry, you will see" He says as he carry's on with me stumbling behind.

We walk through a room with incredible ceiling murals, my eyes glazed over at its glory "come on, we've plenty to do" the man calls out to me and I try to shake off the distraction. We carry in till we reach a balcony, planted with stone pillars and a low wall over looking the lake and town below. "Here we are, ah Carlo my boy! There you are, we've been sweeping the area high and low for you, you sure know where to hide away" the old man shouts out with a jolly laughter. "Ah Marcel! I have missed your old worn out face! I heard about what happened in Dijon I hope nothing too serious had hap...." I glance around at the man talking, not sure if it was the light in my eyes, the light casting down upon his glorious face or just something in my eye but I had to rub my eyes a few times before fully being able to focus in on him. My voice stuck in my throat, finding it unbearable hard to suddenly breath, my stomach feeling extremely fluttery and my chest throbbing. "Mio Dio, un angelo!" The glorious man speaks out in a hushed voice, "she is indeed is she not" the old man exclaims and he thumps Carlo in the shoulder and laughs loudly. "Carlo, this is Flo, she is an artist like yourself, I wanted to introduce you to her and show you her work, I think she has incredible potential!" Marcel says proudly as if he were boasting about a daughter's talents. "Si, she is a piece of art... I mean she is an artist, how wonderful" Carlo cuts himself off leaving me ripe red in the face.

"Let's take a walk my friend and catch up shall we?" Marcel speaks out trying to hide another laugh. They both walk ahead of me chatting away. Every now and then I spotted Carlo slightly turn his face and his eyes would gaze down at me, I wished he would stop, I feel like my face will melt off of my skull. I tried so hard to avert my eyes but his tall frame over shadowing me as the talks long slow strides, his broad shoulders and his muscular forearms revealed just below his rolled up shirt sleeves, hands in his pockets. I'd never seen such a beautiful human before, it was like he was carved from the gods, his silky brown hair with almost golden flecks as the sun shines down on him, his chiselled jaw and cheek bones, long dark eye lashes and heavy low set eyebrows oh and my god his chocolate eyes, perfectly pointed nose and lips that look so soft that a stroke of a feather could not compare.

That damn Marcel, what was he thinking trying to send me alone here to meet this man! Was he trying to set me up or something... I'm starting to doubt his enthusiasm in my artwork now and am thinking it was all a ploy to just get me to meet this Carlo chap.