It was a small village deep in the countryside, both far away and very close to everything.
A quiet little village where days followed days, always the same. We all knew each other, being more or less cousins. Oh, foreigners, those who weren’t local, weren’t the bad guys, of course, but everyone at home looking after their own business and the cows would be well taken care of, that seemed to be the order of the day. order of each. We were born, we lived, we married, we died in the village. And ignoring the rest of the world didn’t bother anyone. Somewhere else ? What was there? Whatever !
Yes of course, the young people today had to go to the city. For work. They hastened to escape as soon as they could to return home. Yes of course there was television and the Internet in most homes. Yes of course there was no barrier preventing access and those from outside could enter the village. But the village rarely left his home. Not unhappy to remain unknown to the rest of the world.
Yet how did he find it that year, a couple in town, a big town in another province, from the license plate of the sluggish car that brought them in — that’s hard. less what the fast tongues brought back — came to spend the two great summer months in the country. A man, a woman, probably in his thirties. They had rented an abandoned farm. Rented or squatted? It was an old building on the outskirts of the town, in the middle of its land, the current owner of which no one else knew and which sometimes served as a playground for local kids. In fact, the kitchen window was missing a tile and the door wouldn’t close.
Curiously, the village accepted these vacationers, without any suspicion. It was so new, so unexpected, this sudden intrusion into their daily lives. And the intruders very quickly acclimated to the hushed atmosphere of the country. Miserly in relationships, they bothered no one and no one bothered them. Everyone at home to take care of their own business … In fact, their presence was mainly known because of the open shutters. Moreover, they also seemed stingy in generosity, buying only the bare essentials of food at the village bakery and grocery store. And since the car was almost always parked in front of the house, it was understood that they had little intention of visiting the country.
At the end of the summer, they quickly disappeared, without saying anything, as they had come. Simply, one day, we noticed the shutters closed.
Not for a long time. We were surprised to see them again in the last fortnight of October. Because we noticed the open shutters. Which intrigued more than one. Why come back in this season? Had they bought? Weren’t they working, so that they had so many vacations? But as they always remained so discreet, no one complained about this new disturbance.
It is on the first day of autumn, when nature changes and is covered with purple and gold, that, for several years now, the association of young people of the country organized a big night party during which the disguise was king. “Life in Gold” was the theme of the party, and the disguises had to prove it. The whole village, young and old, was invited to participate. That year, would foreigners take part in the festivities? We had invited them, a little to get to know better, a little out of curiosity, by slipping an advertisement in the mailbox.
Ah the beautiful night! That year we were enjoying an Indian summer that warmed body and heart. Heat reigned in the large village hall, rented for the occasion. We marched, we elected the king and queen of disguise. We feasted, we danced, we talked, we had fun. The whole village was there, almost seven hundred souls. Even the oldest of the commune had been brought in by their families, so as not to be left alone at home. Young and old were entertained all night long. And then we were really between brothers, cousins, friends. Between acquaintances. Between oneself, therefore! Yes, it was a very beautiful night!
The vacationers did not bother. They were not from the village, they did not have to mix with the rest of the population. And then, each at home to take care … So, since they did not think of the villagers, no one thought of them, each too busy having a good time, the last good time before the withdrawal home for the dreary season .
And it wasn’t until late, almost early in the morning that, tired but happy, everyone finally returned home. Corn…
But the door to the bakery and grocery store, the butcher’s, the post office, the town hall was found fractured. Likewise at the home of the mayor and six or seven influential figures of the municipality. Money, jewelry, valuable trinkets were gone. And even objects of worship in the church!
While we were having fun, the village had received some unscrupulous visitors.
It was then that it was also noticed that the farm where the holidaymakers were staying had its shutters closed. It was in vain that we knocked on the door and called. We had to face the facts: the tourists had disappeared. We understood.
A few hours later, the town police disembarked and began the investigation. Everyone in the village had seen them. Anyone could provide a full report. And yet, despite meticulous training by law enforcement officials, and throughout the country, no one ever saw them again in the country. Neither did their thefts, either.
But all is not lost, no doubt, since at the same time there were several such raids in the region. So the investigation continues and over time … since, as we know, time is money!
