Topic: Spookslot: Dance Macabre!

[rougekappje]

Naast alle topics waarin we kwijt kunnen wat we hebben meegemaakt, wat we van dingen vinden, wat ons irriteert en waarin we vrijelijk kunnen associeren mist er eigenlijk nog een topic dat appelleert aan onze angsten, onze donkere kanten en onze behoefte tot griezelen.

Hierbij is het griezel- & gedichtentopic geopend, namens Rouge en Nemesis!  Het is bedoeld voor gedichten, korte verhalen (al dan niet zelfgeschreven), samenvattingen van gruwelverhalen... het maakt niet uit, als het maar om te griezelen is. Laten we er een griezelige gezellige herfst om een warm, knapperend  nachtelijk vuur van maken... Happy haunting!

[rougekappje]

Uit Roald Dahl' s 'Revolting Rhymes' deze mooie ode aan Little Red Riding ... ;-)

' As soon as Wolf began to feel
That he would like a decent meal,
He went and knocked on Grandma's door.
When Grandma opened it, she saw
The sharp white teeth, the horrid grin,
And Wolfie said, ``May I come in?''
Poor Grandmamma was terrified,
``He's going to eat me up!'' she cried.
And she was absolutely right.
He ate her up in one big bite.
But Grandmamma was small and tough,
And Wolfie wailed, ``That's not enough!
I haven't yet begun to feel
That I have had a decent meal!''
He ran around the kitchen yelping,
``I've got to have a second helping!''
Then added with a frightful leer,
``I'm therefore going to wait right here
Till Little Miss Red Riding Hood
Comes home from walking in the wood.''
He quickly put on Grandma's clothes,
(Of course he hadn't eaten those).
He dressed himself in coat and hat.
He put on shoes, and after that
He even brushed and curled his hair,
Then sat himself in Grandma's chair.
In came the little girl in red.
She stopped. She stared. And then she said,
``What great big ears you have, Grandma.''
``All the better to hear you with,'' the Wolf replied.
``What great big eyes you have, Grandma.''
said Little Red Riding Hood.
``All the better to see you with,'' the Wolf replied.
He sat there watching her and smiled.
He thought, I'm going to eat this child.
Compared with her old Grandmamma
She's going to taste like caviar.
Then Little Red Riding Hood said, ``But Grandma,
what a lovely great big furry coat you have on.''
``That's wrong!'' cried Wolf. ``Have you forgot
To tell me what BIG TEETH I've got?
Ah well, no matter what you say,
I'm going to eat you anyway.''
The small girl smiles. One eyelid flickers.
She wimps a pistol from her knickers.
She aims it at the creature's head
And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead.
A few weeks later, in the wood,
I came across Miss Riding Hood.
But what a change! No cloak of red,
No silly hood upon her head.
She said, ``Hello, and do please note
My lovely furry wolfskin coat.''

[Nemesis]

Uit dezelfde bundel Roald's en mijn ode aan Lil Red 

The animal I really dig
Above all others is the pig.
Pigs are noble. Pigs are clever,
Pigs are corteous. However,
Now and then, to break this rule,
One meets a pig who is a fool.
What, for example, would you say
If strolling through the woods one day,
Right there in front of you you saw
A pig who'd built his house of STRAW?
The Wolf who saw it licked his lips,
And said, ``That pig has had his chips.''
``Little pig, little pig, let me come in!''
``No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!''
``Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!''

The little pig began to pray,
But Wolfie blew his house away.
He shouted, ``Bacon, pork and ham!
Oh, what a lucky Wolf I am!''
And though he ate the pig quite fast,
He carefully kept the tail till last.
Wolf wandered on, a trifle bloated.
Surprise, surprise, for soon he noted
Another little house for pigs,
And this one had been built of TWIGS!

``Little pig, little pig, let me come in!''
``No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!''
``Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!''

The Wolf said, ``Okay, here we go!''
He then began to blow and blow.
The little pig began to sqeal.
He cried, ``Oh Wolf, you've had one meal!
Why can't we talk and make a deal?
The Wolf replied, ``Not on your nelly!''
And soon the pig was in his belly.
``Two juicy little pigs!'' Wolf cried,
``But still I'm not quite satisfied!
I know how full my tummy's bulging,
But oh, how I adore indulging.''
So creeping quietly as a mouse,
The Wolf approached another house,
A house which also had inside
A little piggy trying to hide.
But this one, Piggy Number Three,
Was bright and brainy as could be.
No straw for him, no twigs or sticks.
This pig had built his house of BRICKS.
``You'll not get me!'' the Piggy cried.
``I'll blow you down!'' the Wolf replied.
``You'll need,'' Pig said, ``a lot of puff,
And I don't think you've got enough.''
Wolf huffed and puffed and blew and blew.
The house stayed up as good as new.
``If I can't blow it down,'' Wolf said,
I'll have to blow it up instead.
I'll come back in the dead of night
And blow it up with dynamite!''
Pig cried, ``You brute! I might have known!''
Then, picking up the telephone,
He dialed as quickly as he could
The number of red Riding Hood.
``Hello,'' she said. ``Who's speaking? Who?
Oh, hello, Piggy, how d'you do?''
Pig cried, ``I need your help, Miss Hood!
Oh help me, please! D'you think you could?''
``I'll try of course,'' Miss Hood replied.
``What's on your mind...?'' ``A Wolf!'' Pig cried.
``I know you've dealt with wolves before,
And now I've got one at my door!''
``My darling Pig,'' she said, ``my sweet,
That's something really up my street.
I've just begun to wash my hair.
But when it's dry, I'll be right there.''
A short while later, through the wood,
Came striding brave Miss Riding Hood.
The Wolf stood there, his eyes ablaze
And yellowish, like mayonnaise.
His teeth were sharp, his gums were raw,
And spit was dripping from his jaw.
Once more the maiden's eyelid flickers.
She draws the pistol from her knickers.
Once more she hits the vital spot,
And kills him with a single shot.
Pig, peeping through the window, stood
And yelled, ``Well done, Miss Riding Hood!''


Ah, Piglet, you must never trust
Young ladies from the upper crust.
For now, Miss Riding Hood, one notes,
Not only has two wolfskin coats,
But when she goes from place to place
She has a PIGSKIN TRAVELLING CASE.

[Nemesis]

The Invisible Beast - Jack Prelutsky

The beast that is invisible
Is stalking through the park.
But you cannot see it coming
Though it isn’t very dark.
Oh, you know it’s out there somewhere
Though just why you cannot tell.
For although you cannot see it,
It can see you very well.

You sense it’s frightful features
And it’s great ungainly form,
And you wish that you were home now,
Where it’s cozy, safe, and warm.
And you know it’s coming closer
For you smell it’s awful smell.
And although you cannot see it,
It can see you very well.

Oh, your heart is beating faster,
Beating louder than a drum,
For you hear it’s footsteps falling
And your body’s froze and numb.
And you cannot scream for terror,
And your fear you cannot quell.
For although you cannot see it,
It can see you very well.

[rougekappje]

Dorothy Parker - Tombstones in the Starlight

 I. The Minor Poet

His little trills and chirpings were his best.
  No music like the nightingale's was born
Within his throat;  but he, too, laid his breast
  Upon a thorn.


          II. The Pretty Lady

She hated bleak and wintry things alone.
  All that was warm and quick, she loved too well-
A light, a flame, a heart against her own;
  It is forever bitter cold, in Hell.


          III. The Very Rich Man

He'd have the best, and that was none too good;
  No barrier could hold, before his terms.
He lies below, correct in cypress wood,
  And entertains the most exclusive worms.


          IV. The Fisherwoman

The man she had was kind and clean
  And well enough for every day,
But, oh, dear friends, you should have seen
  The one that got away!


          V. The Crusader

Arrived in Heaven, when his sands were run,
  He seized a quill, and sat him down to tell
The local press that something should be done
  About that noisy nuisance, Gabriel.


          Vl. The Actress

Her name, cut clear upon this marble cross,
  Shines, as it shone when she was still on earth;
While tenderly the mild, agreeable moss
  Obscures the figures of her date of birth.

[rougekappje]

Edgar Allan Poe- The Lake

In spring of youth it was my lot
To haunt of the wide world a spot
The which I could not love the less-
So lovely was the loneliness
Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
And the tall pines that towered around.

But when the Night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot, as upon all,
And the mystic wind went by
Murmuring in melody-
Then- ah then I would awake
To the terror of the lone lake.

Yet that terror was not fright,
But a tremulous delight-
A feeling not the jewelled mine
Could teach or bribe me to define-
Nor Love- although the Love were thine.

Death was in that poisonous wave,
And in its gulf a fitting grave
For him who thence could solace bring
To his lone imagining-
Whose solitary soul could make
An Eden of that dim lake.

[Nemesis]

Barbara Allen's Cruelty - Thomas Percy (1729-1811)

In Scarlet towne, where I was borne,
There was a faire maid dwellin,
Made every youth crye, wel-awaye!
Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merrye month of May,
When greene buds they were swellin,
Yong Jemmye Grove on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his man unto her then,
To the town, where shee was dwellin;
You must come to my master deare,
Giff your name be Barbara Allen.

For death is printed on his face,
And ore his hart is stealin:
Then haste away to comfort him,
lovelye Barbara Allen.

Though death be printed on his face,
And ore his harte is stealin,
Yet little better shall he bee,
For bonny Barbara Allen.

So slowly, slowly, she came up,
And slowly she came nye him;
And all she sayd, when there she came,
Yong man, I think y'are dying.

He turnd his face unto her strait,
With deadlye sorrow sighing;
lovely maid, come pity mee,
Ime on my death-bed lying.

If on your death-bed you doe lye,
What needs the tale you are tellin:
I cannot keep you from your death;
Farewell, sayd Barbara Allen.

He turnd his face unto the wall,
As deadlye pangs he fell in:
Adieu! adieu! adieu to you all,
Adieu to Barbara Allen.

As she was walking ore the fields,
She heard the bell a knellin;
And every stroke did seem to saye,
Unworthy Barbara Allen.

She turnd her bodye round about,
And spied the corps a coming:
Laye downe, laye downe the corps, she sayd,
That I may look upon him.

With scornful eye she looked downe,
Her cheeke with laughter swellin;
That all her friends cryd out amaine,
Unworthye Barbara Allen.

When he was dead, and laid in grave,
Her harte was struck with sorrowe,
O mother, mother, make my bed,
For I shall dye to morrowe.

Hard harted creature him to slight,
Who loved me so dearlye:
O that I had beene more kind to him,
When he was live and neare me!

She, on her death-bed as she laye,
Beg'd to be buried by him;
And sore repented of the daye,
That she did ere denye him.

Farewell, she sayd, ye virgins all,
And shun the fault I fell in:
Henceforth take warning by the fall
Of cruel Barbara Allen.

[Bodejos]

Enkele jaren geleden was er een reportage op televisie over een belgische vrouw, die in de jaren 70 van de vorige eeuw was overleden. Vlak voor haar overlijden had ze gezegd, dat haar wil zo sterk was, dat die ervoor kon zorgen dat haar stoffelijk overschot niet zou vergaan. Ook had ze gezegd, dat dit na 25 jaar gecontroleerd mocht worden.

Aldus geschiedde, onder het toezicht van een notaris, die haar verzegelde lijkkist opende, onder toeziend oog van enkele belangstellenden en een cameraploeg.

Wat de vrouw vlak voor haar dood had gezegd, bleek waar te zijn: haar lichaam was nog nagenoeg intact, en de aanwezigen keken met verbazing naar hetgeen ze daar aantroffen: een overblijfsel van een vrouw die 25 jaar na haar dood, woord had gehouden. Onnodig te zeggen dat hier geen sprake was van een geprepareerd of gemummificeerd lijk.

[Nemesis]

Funeral Blues - W.H. Auden

_{Komt dit gedicht je bekend voor? Het werd in de film 'Four weddings and a funeral'
voorgedragen door Matthew tijdens de begrafenis van zijn vriend Gareth.}

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead.
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantel the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

[Nemesis]

Dit was vast een heel griezelige film in Mexico 

[Floortje]

o fijn... griezelen 

Wel grappig dat hier tot nu toe vooral Engelse verhalen/gedichten staan, Nederlands griezelen kan ook best cool zijn hoor 

www.dazy.de is duits/engels, maar ja

kheb dit weekend nogal gegriezeld bij de film Signs
hoewel er amper enge dingen in gebeuren, maar die eerste keer dat ze zon alien laten zien: iedereen KEIHARD gillen 
Het mooiste moment uit de film was wel dat de kinderen denken dat ze een sooert trechter op hun hoofd moeten zetten, in verband met de signalen die de aliens uitzenden. Een tijdje daarna gaat een wat oudere jongen die daar woont ook met ze meedoen en dan krijg je dit beeld:

[Nemesis]

De tuinman en de dood - P.N. van Eyck

Een Perzisch Edelman:

Van morgen ijlt mijn tuinman, wit van schrik,
Mijn woning in: "Heer, Heer, één ogenblik!

Ginds, in de rooshof, snoeide ik loot na loot,
Toen keek ik achter mij. Daar stond de Dood.

Ik schrok, en haastte mij langs de andere kant,
Maar zag nog juist de dreiging van zijn hand.

Meester, uw paard, en laat mij spoorslags gaan,
Voor de avond nog bereik ik Ispahaan!" -

Van middag (lang reeds was hij heengespoed)
Heb ik in 't cederpark de Dood ontmoet.

"Waarom," zo vraag ik, want hij wacht en zwijgt,
"Hebt gij van morgen vroeg mijn knecht gedreigd?"

Glimlachend antwoordt hij: "Geen dreiging was 't,
Waarvoor uw tuinman vlood. Ik was verrast,

Toen 'k 's morgens hier nog stil aan 't werk zag staan,
Die 'k 's avonds halen moest in Ispahaan."

[Icarus]

Dit gedicht van W.E Henley lijkt wel toepasselijk bij deze herfstige gloomy dagen ..:

The Rain and the Wind

The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain --
They are with us like a disease:
They worry the heart, they work the brain,
As they shoulder and clutch at the shrieking pane,
And savage the helpless trees.
What does it profit a man to know
These tattered and tumbling skies
A million stately stars will show,
And the ruining grace of the after-glow
And the rush of the wild sunrise?
Ever the rain -- the rain and the wind!
Come, hunch with me over the fire,
Dream of the dreams that leered and grinned,
Ere the blood of the Year got chilled and thinned,
And the death came on desire!

[Ongewensd Persoon]

www.nightwish.com en dan lyrics, staat vast veel interessante teksten tussen die hier ook wel tussen konden staan.

[LC]

members.lycos.nl/hetonverklaarbare

Hij doet het niet allemaal maar over aliens enz ( niet bekijken als je niet tegen Aliens kan, slaap je niet goed)

[Nemesis]

Het is een smalle lijn tussen feit en fictie...  :-\

LONDEN - Een rechtbank in het Schotse Edinburgh heeft een man die geobsedeerd was door vampiers veroordeeld tot levenslang wegens moord op zijn beste vriend. Hij had zijn slachtoffer gedood, vervolgens diens bloed gedronken en een deel van de schedelinhoud opgegeten. Dit meldden Britse media donderdag.

De 22-jarige Allan Menzies zei tegenover de rechtbank dat hij een pact had gesloten met de vampier Akasha uit de horrorfilm Queen of the damned. Hij hoopte onsterfelijk te worden door zijn 21-jarige vriend te doden en diens bloed te drinken. Volgens de man had Akasha, gespeeld door de in 2001 overleden zangeres Aaliyah, hem opgedragen zijn vriend te doden.

De rechter wilde hem niet ontoerekeningsvatbaar verklaren. Volgens de rechter is Menzies "slecht, gewelddadig en een zeer gevaarlijk man" die niet geschikt is om vrij rond te lopen.

_nu.nl

[Nemesis]

The Raven - Edgar Allen Poe (1845)
 
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

[Nemesis]

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!

[rougekappje]

The Haunted Palace- Edgar Allen Poe


In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace-
Radiant palace- reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion-
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This- all this- was in the olden
Time long ago,)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tuned law,
Round about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well-befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn!- for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate!)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh- but smile no more

[Robin]

Tijd voor een waargebeurd verhaal! De persoon waar het omgaat, ken ik persoonlijk, ik noem hem hier Theo.

Er was een meisje dat opgroeide in een groot gezin, op een boerderij. De vader was een stugge, strenge man.
Het meisje werd vanaf dat ze heel jong was misbruikt door haar vader. Meerdere keren per week en dat  jaren lang. Zwangerschappen konden dan ook niet uitblijven. Maar iedere zwangerschap eindigde in een miskraam omdat de man nadat hij zijn eigen dochter zwanger had gemaakt, haar dusdanig mishandelde dat ze de vrucht verloor. Al die ongeboren baby's verdwenen in de gierput.
Tot het moment dat ze op haar 17e weer zwanger werd. Kort nadat ze erachter kwam dat ze weer zwanger was, stierf haar vader aan een hartaanval. Het meisje kreeg de baby, maar moest het direct na de geboorte afstaan. Omdat de moeder van het meisje bang was voor de schande. En dit terwijl ze al die jaren oogkleppen voorhad.
Die baby (Theo) groeide op in een kindertehuis, zonder liefde. Hij had allerlei lichamelijke afwijkingen, waaronder halfblind. Hij werd eigenlijk door niemand ooit serieus genomen en stond altijd overal aan de zijlijn.
Hij wist niets over zijn afkomst, had helemaal geen familie dacht ie.
Tot hij op een dag via via een vrouw tegenkwam, die beweerde zijn tante te zijn. Op die manier kwam hij in contact met zijn moeder. En bleken zijn ooms en tantes ook zijn broers en zussen te zijn. En zijn moeder dus ook zijn zus.
Met zijn moeder heeft hij nu een beetje contact, al gaat dat moeizaam.