So, I have decided to express all the things I have been recently as a blog. Yeah, I know, old fashion style, not a vlog. But, you see, I am a pretty well known figure in my country, as a news reporter. Not the most well known, an A-class public person, but someone who, if you watch a certain news outlet in Romania, you shall probably recognize. Work has brought me into a reality I could not accept as real or, at least, could not accept it as real in a tangible way.
You can call me Ruxandra. If you ask me if this is my real name, I shall neither confirm or deny it. Even denying would help you guess who I am, on my offline life. And that should not happen. Especially regarding the forces at work that, I admit, I can not truly comprehend. For all non-Romanian readers, all I can admit is that my gender is female, you are free to picture me however you want. When I was assigned with the investigation of a violent incident on an old small street in Bucharest, I started doing what I knew to do: Investigate. I knew that, on a commercial news outlet, the truth needs to be adjusted to fit the policy of the network . But, before having a finished product, I needed to start from somewhere, so I needed to find at least pieces of truth.
Marcel. A small gangster. Chubby, somewhat short. The region of Bucharest is not, particularly, bad, or a ghetto. Not a good one, but one where the crime structures typical of a Balkan or Eastern Europe country can be felt. Most gangsters are poor people in origin, they look like normal, common, working class people. Many of them belong to the Romania minority, but not all. Some are Romanian, although Romanians tend not to form crime structures of this type, but be integrated in them as secondary members. People like Marcel probably do not know how much in them is Romanian or Romani, and they do not care. What is clear is that they make a neighbourhood by somewhat dangerous, especially at night, even if they are a minority. If you a local of the streets, you are probably safe, if you mind your business and do not get involved, one way or the other, with people like those. If you are Romanian or Balkanic in general you know what am I talking about. But I need to give some context to outside readers, especially Western Readers. Marcel spend the spring and summer nights with his fellows, drinking, showing off their fake branded clothes, listing to a type of folk hip-hop called manele on their car sound systems, and bragging on their deeds, illegal or legal. As an average guy, most likely, being short and a little fat, most likely Marcel could not, actually, have not too many reasons to brag. This meant for him stagnation of the scale, or worse. Except for pickpocketing and some marijuana cheap trade, he probably had nothing on him. Yet, a strange opportunity came for him this summer.
On the early XXth century streets, with, mostly, one level houses, something changed one night. The streets are very well lit with sodium lamps, that gives that strong, orange color that makes darkness go away. But, one night, for small intervals, lights started to go off and whole regions went dark. Malfunctions of the public lights were not nothing unknown, but not like this: In sections, in regular patters, in different sections. It did not make sense. Public lighting service was notified, they found nothing truly wrong on the lamps and installation, at least nothing to explain what was seen. And then she was seen on the streets where the lamps were out. A woman in a long black dress, typical of the late XIXth century or the beginning of the XXth century. Like real ladies would wear at the time when the first houses were on these streets. Much of the old houses are gone now, some new American styled houses are recently build, the old railway is gone as well. So you can imagine that this woman, with her long, black dress, with arms covered, looked both out of place, but also fitted. Her long black hair covered a bit of her face, yet it would have been exposed mostly, if the sodium lamps were on.
She walked weird, like she did her best to walk ladylike, but something prevented her from doing, like some medical issue, making her gait look a little mechanical. Kids admit that they so her face from the distance, but it was mostly off. Some shapes and colors made no sense for a human face, even looked little like that makeup that is fashionable today. Indeed, most people explained their sightings by the combination of darkness and makeup, but nobody was brave enough to go near her, to check here out. A smell of sudden fear was felt on the streets in the darkness, a fear that was not familiar and that, was, at least you stayed away. not very strong. So, people started to avoid the streets when it was dark and no one so her up close. Until one night.
Marcel stayed close to tram station, on the street with the name of Maica Domnului, in Romanian meaning Mother of God (Virgin Mary). Yes, I know, these streets in the Colentina neighbourhood have Christian names like this. I do not know why. A XIXth century cemetery is close, and the remains of an old railway, that was taken off by the disappearance of the factories in the area. Sometimes, at night, even early morning, the sounds of the passing train can be heard, a local urban legend. The siren, usually, sometimes the whole train is heard, where the streets Maica Domnului and Lizeanu meet. Some say the phenomenon is a result of the frequent accidents on the train barrier. People were not afraid of it, since no real harm seem to be caused now by the ghost train. People just avoid the crossroad when is hear, it seems. But not the new phenomenon, with the blackouts and the woman in black. And Marcel and his fellows talked that night about it. It seems some were really afraid of the women, like dismissed her like a lunatic that mattered little to nothing. The fear that seemed to be in the air and the darkness was hard to explain by Marcel, yet he had an idea. If proven right, he would be considered for upgrade on the social ladder of the gangs. He also be respected and feared by the people in the neighbourhood as the one who put a stop to all the nonsense.
So, he decided that, if the woman appears tonight, he shall raped her in the darkness. She seemed young from the distance. If she proved to be old or revulsive up close, he would just beat her up and rob her. Probably he felt some anxiety as the discussion progressed, but he could not back down without loosing face. I guess the fear of this gang was, in the end, greater then of the mysterious woman.
So, they went walking on the streets, waiting for a blackout. The plan was for the gang to stay across the street, as Marcel cornered the woman. After some time, I guess hour, when they were somewhat away from the tram, on a crossroad where the train used to pass, it happened. The lights went out. Marcel knew that he had to proceed. They entered the darkness. The sky was clear, the trees on the street edge probably helped them a bit, on small portions, to hide. Until they so her from the back. About one hundred meters away, she was walking with her strange gait. The small purse/handbag was on her right arm. Her heels made a strange sound in the dark. They sneaked closer and closer. Marcel on her side, the rest on the opposite side of the small street. At some point, another crossroad and the woman went right. They were close, she might heard them, but they had little fear now, they were many, she was alone. The gang took a little ahead, crossing the road, Marcel went right a few seconds later. Now it was the right moment. So he shouted to her: ”Hey, honey! What are you doing alone at night, on the streets?” She kept on walking, so he continued: ”Perhaps you are looking for a real man, a man that you do not have at home? I am ready to show you something, if you want…”
She stopped. The gang was paying close attention, hiding behind a car. Marcel was definitely afraid, as his voice trembled a little. She turned around. The express on the face of Marcel changed. I bet that, if it would not be so dark around, he would have become pale. As the woman came closer, he opened his eyes, his mouth and his shoulders trembled, but he could not move. She came face to face to him. His yes were engulfed in horror. What he so? We can not know. What I managed to find out is that the following moves happened lightning fast. The woman moved her left arm and grabbed his neck, then placed him with a sudden force against the closest wall. Her left arm took his left arm at shoulder level and a shall cracking sound was heard, followed by a small moan. Then, she grabbed, across, his right arm at shoulder level, followed by another crack and a moan. She broke, in matter of seconds, both of his arms. Then, she moved him a little bit from the ground up, holding him with her left arm. His eyes were wide in terror, his mouth open and mute. With all the darkness, his gang members were able to see this clear. They were trembling as well, but they seem to be paralyzed of fear. Or perhaps this happened so fast, that they could not believe their eyes? I do not know.Anyway, the next thing they so is that she took what seemed to be a long knife, perhaps like a small sword from her belt and pointed against the side of his neck. Marcel looked stoned in fear, at this point. I bet that, if he had a bad heart, a heart attack would have happened by now.
For a few seconds of silence, they waited for the unavoidable to happen. They even noticed the small jewels in here hair, from the back. I believe they were beautiful, since her look was somewhat belle epoque. Then the knife entered his neck. A small choke was hear, then the knife went out, and Marcel fell to the ground. They were expecting to see blood filling the street. It did not. After Marcel was down, she placed the knife back, then arranged a little bit her dress and belt, turned around and moved on on her weird, mechanical-remininscent gait, in the same direction and sense as before. They waited a few minutes, probably no more, then lights went on.
Marcel, surprisingly, was not dead. There was a deep gash in his neck, yet the knife avoided the major blood vessels. He was put on induced coma later on. In the morning, I was assigned the case. After a few talks with the locals, I realised I was dealing with something outside, lets say normality. It has hard to make sense at first, people told me many things about all. I did not had time to broadcast live almost nothing of them but, after work, I have decided to return and speak with the people more. And, so it begun. There is more, but I am already tired and things started to take a toll on me. I am usually concise on my live broadcasts, but this is different. I wrote more on a style I talk. I hope this makes sense. But for now, Ruxandra is out.