Chapter 1: Just a racoon
Alpara Kolumna: A Reporter's Chronicle (Season 1)
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Chapter 1: Just a racoon
You know how it goes... in war, with the loss of territory, it’s not easy for people. But one group
tends to be forgotten. We’re not talking about furries or anything like that here. This raccoon is
simply personified rubbish... at least, that’s how he feels. He’s a human just like you, yet he
now sees himself as if he were one of them. Welcome to my perception. To my mental fortress,
which is so... subtle that it’s almost too transparent. Everyone has been at that point where they
think they’ve lost everything, but I go one step further and ask myself: What purpose am I
meant to fulfil? Do I even belong here? Where is my place?
Who am I? My name is Alpara Kolumna and I grew up in the town of Neustadt, now Neurom.
The name will surely ring a bell, as my great-aunt is that famous reporter. You surely know her,
the infamous Karla Kulumna. My life was actually simple, and I eagerly aspired to become a
reporter like my aunt, yet everything turned out differently. Because of the war, I was forced to
take on jobs I didn’t want to do at all. In those times, something precious was lost: humanity.
Everyone was only looking out for their own business, and it was all about the economy, money
and power. I want to make a difference and be part of something big, and above all, I want my
Neustadt back – the way I lived it and loved it. How much bad luck can a raccoon have…
What on earth?!!!
Probably an opportunity here…
I had to seize it. I simply had to. It was the only logical conclusion. This is my chance to finally stand up to the Tielians and reclaim my land and my town. Maybe then my family won’t think of me as such a loser anymore. It’s exhausting and I don’t have any friends here either, but I don’t care. I am and always will be a lone wolf. Who could I possibly rely on anyway? Besides, who wants to be friends with a raccoon? Despite all that…
...when I'm wallowing in the mud on the obstacle course...
...always hit the target at the shooting range...
...perfect the state’s main martial art...
...and learn the best way to express my resentment...
...I don’t want to forget why I’m doing all this. Writing is, and always will be, my passion. I wouldn’t dare show it to anyone just yet, but my time will come eventually. I’ve taken the first step, and if I wait patiently, step by step, for the right moment, then...
BAMMMMM
“Hey Kolumna, what are you writing there?” asked my flatmate, who had rushed into the room and snatched an article from my pile. I didn’t have a chance to react and simply replied: “It’s none of your business, Theo!” I took a quick breath and tried to pause: “But since you’ve already read it, what do you think?” Theo pondered for a moment and then replied: “Honestly? Considering I thought you’d been secretly working on a smutty novel in your spare time over the last few months, I think it’s really good.” I couldn’t believe my ears. He liked it?!
We’d never really spoken before, as I thought nobody wanted anything to do with me anyway. But something changed from that moment on. Theo and I began to become real friends. We spurred each other on and brought out the best in one another. During our daily walks through the woods, I learnt quite a bit about him. He told me that he and his family were from near Cologne and that he had a young daughter called Nina. She is being raised by her grandmother, as her mother was killed during the Luxembourg invasion of the Rhine region. He also wants a country and a future for his daughter where she can be happy. So our goals aren’t all that different. To me, Theo is a role model. Thank you, Theo...
We had loads of fun together because Theo is a walking joke machine. At every opportunity... yes, even to the company commander, he tries to tell his favourite joke: “There are two bombs at the bottom of the stairs. One says: ‘I think it's time to go off!’” But every time he does, he starts laughing so hard himself that the whole canteen bursts into laughter. You almost forget how bad the food is here and, above all...
...and next up is that bloody obstacle course. Guys, I’ll say it again: I’m not a real raccoon. I can’t climb as well as a raccoon, and I hate that wall so much that I’d love to get hold of some explosives at night and just secretly blow it up. Thanks, Theo... again...
Theo and I now sit together every evening and spend hours on end thinking about what we could write. He’s really terrible at writing, but I’m just glad he’s so keen to help me. It seems he, too, sees some value in my work. Thank you, Theo III of Cologne.
I couldn’t have asked for a better friend.
Next: Soon...