: Henry Landers
: Three Girls and the Wounded Self Disillusioned and Rescued like our Times
: Books on Demand
: 9783695790654
: Three Girls
: 1
: CHF 5.20
:
: Fantasy
: English
: 546
: Wasserzeichen
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
The world is turned upside down when an entire large building disappears without a trace overnight. It was the school building of three girls: Annabell, Lara, and Maya. What no one knew at the time was that, to escape its fate, the sensitive school building had decided to transform itself into a human being, a young woman. She takes her first steps in her new body into a new mobile life. Unable to believe what this new body demanded of her, she fell into a disastrous spiral. The three girls, their seer Sven, and his dog Timmy must find the woman at all costs to end the further chaos her disappearance has caused. But the search for their school building takes the girls on an even greater adventure. It will exceed their imaginations and expectations by a cosmic dimension. Like in a labyrinth, new tasks, conditions, and rules unfold again and again, which they must learn, endure, and master. As Ba birds, they will rediscover the world for themselves - as birds see it. This helps them to track down the magnetic field lines. These are clever, capricious, and tricky forces of nature that want to do good, but also play their own game and skillfully entangle the three girls in it. When they get stuck, it helps to turn their own helplessness into the curiosity of others. The three girls had to learn this the hard way before they tried it themselves.

Henry Landers was born and raised in East Berlin. As a photographic artist, he traveled the world and gathered impressions from many cultures, which now flow into his artworks. However, writing opened the door to a world full of stories in a way that photography never could. Henry Landers loves to walk through Humboldt Grove every morning, which led him to discover the three main characters and the fantastic world of the Tamanaks. While researching for »Three Girls Save the World - How It Began«, he became aware of the tragic fate of Diesterweg High School.

PROLOGUE


A vision was in the air. Something vague, ghostly, perhaps a memory of something that will happen in the future, was lurking around, searching for a place, a nest perhaps in the sensitive school building?

Even if the undefined was not as concrete as a person or a ghost, it was still his vision.

It crept around the orange-coloured house and peered into every window.

At night, it was empty and dark here. It was a shame, really, with so much space standing empty all evening, all night and all morning, every day of the year – without children, mostly teenagers, and their headmistress, secretary, teachers, cooks, school psychologists, caretakers, cleaners.

It’s so boring here, so empty, thought the sensitive school all night long until dawn.

Because the school didn’t think: ›Wow, now I can finally do what I’ve always wanted to do.‹ No, it was just empty, standing there, waiting silently, dark and introverted.

The last day kept running through the sensitive school’s mind: with all the words that had been spoken in it – the millipede feet that had walked across its floors and climbed its stairs – all the hands that had touched its door handles and handrails on the stairs – and many a kick that had hit its walls – or balls that had bounced off its walls – chalk that had squeaked across blackboards.

But what remained for the sensitive school, besides the memories, were the graffiti on its walls, the pictures in its corridors, the teaching materials and sports equipment left behind in the yellow school lockers. That gave it hope that the children and everyone else would come back tomorrow.

After all, they still needed all those things, thought the sensitive school. So they would come back tomorrow. »Will they really come back tomorrow?« ... »Yes, they will«, she told herself every night, full of wistfulness and hope. And then she dismissed the thought again: just because they came yesterday, should they come back tomorrow? Was there any proof? Not the slightest. Sometimes they stayed away for weeks. They called it holidays. Holidays from what? From me? The sensitive school pondered this holiday after holiday.

It could go on like this forever.

At such a moment, when the night was at its deepest, when the sensitive school was sobbing and encouraging itself, the unknown came in through a crack, a tiny window left open on the second floor.

Unnoticed, it crept through the entire building to find the right place — through the large auditorium with the stage and the canteen, past the yellow cupboards and up the large stairs to the second floor.

Here it wanted to lay down its doubt, like a mother would lay down her unwanted baby in a church, or a cuckoo mother would lay her egg in another nest.

It wanted to place it in the care of the sensitive school, its little doubt that was yet to grow so big. Its baby. Because the sensitive school was receptive to doubt. It should be the suitable host to allow its baby to grow into a stately child, thought the Indeterminate.

Some Indeterminate, you must know, have babies called Hope or Confidence. They love the sun and see pure, radiant light even in the dark. But this Indeterminate here was a dark one, who saw darkness even in the glaring sunlight.

That is why the Indeterminate sought a dark chamber without windows for its little one, where no daylight would irritate it. The specialist room in the biology cabinet was perfect, thought the Indeterminate.