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    On the Footprints of the Ghost Clinique
    On the Footprints of the Ghost Clinique
    On the Footprints of the Ghost Clinique
    Ebook98 pages1 hour

    On the Footprints of the Ghost Clinique

    By Serban Margineanu

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    About this ebook

    ON THE FOOTPRINTS OF THE GHOST CLINIQUE is, above all, a social novel. It is constructed with the style of a crime novel, to facilitate the public access towards a more digestible literary type of fiction. The majority of the characters are marked by an immense social trauma. It is the tragedy of the genius student who couldn’t finish his studies because of his terrifying poverty, the sufferance of an ordinary man who couldn’t support his family with his own salary, and the dilemma of a young woman who decided to prostitute herself in order to survive. The secret and unlawful Clinique is the only possibility of some scientists to continue their medical researchers, using founds gathered in an illegal or fraudulent way.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFlorin Alexandru Radu
    Release dateJul 11, 2012
    ISBN9781476431550
    On the Footprints of the Ghost Clinique
    Author

    Serban Margineanu

    The author Serban Margineanu covers gently, and full of compassion, the characters that represent some people disowned by fate. Maybe just a few people know that S. Margineanu describes, in a way, himself in these pages. Poor, having an agitated life and long forgotten by his family, this writer succeeded alone in his complicated literary career. A poet and romancer, this anonymous rhapsode of the sordid neighbor-hoods, the cemeteries, the miserable people, and of the whores and the dogs without any master, Serban Margineanu hasn't received any support from any Romanian publishing house or from his illiterate and unsporting family.

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      Book preview

      On the Footprints of the Ghost Clinique - Serban Margineanu

      ON THE FOOTPRINTS

      OF THE

      GHOST CLINIQUE

      By Serban Margineanu

      Copyright 2012 Serban Margineanu

      Front cover photo: © Felix Pergande - Fotolia.com

      Smashwords Edition

      Translated by Allex Radu

      Synopsis

      ON THE FOOTPRINTS OF THE GHOST CLINIQUE is, above all, a social novel. It is constructed with the style of a crime novel, to facilitate the public access towards a more digestible literary type of fiction. The majority of the characters are marked by an immense social trauma. It is the tragedy of the genius student who couldn’t finish his studies because of his terrifying poverty, the sufferance of an ordinary man who couldn’t support his family with his own salary, and the dilemma of a young woman who decided to prostitute herself in order to survive. The secret and unlawful Clinique is the only possibility of some scientists to continue their medical researchers, using founds gathered in an illegal or fraudulent way. The discreet irony of the author states about the possibility of an ex-student, now janitor, to use the money of a bank robber, money that he restitute by the kilogram. The sordid general social situation, forces a scientist like Marál Ene Voicu to use and criminal Clinique in order to conduct illegal human experiments on innocent human Guinea pigs, which wouldn’t be helped by the Health System anyway.

      The buffer-characters, used to keep the action in balance, are real and have their own charm and keep the reader involved. Lazu Belibou, a timid worker and an unlucky thief; Vintilian Denita Casiana, a prostitute honest prostitute; Moflea Strumfalici, the gun runner, who was paying for his alimonies by selling hand guns.

      The unfortunate gun trafficking from the countries haunted by wars and revolutions is the only way that the scientist Marál Ene Voicu to get the founds he needed for some new scientific researches.

      The author Serban Margineanu covers gently, and full of compassion, the characters that represent some people disowned by fate. Maybe just a few people know that S. Margineanu describes, in a way, himself in these pages. Poor, having an agitated life and long forgotten by his family, this writer succeeded alone in his complicated literary career. A poet and romancer, this anonymous rhapsode of the sordid neighborhoods, the cemeteries, the miserable people, and of the whores and the dogs without any master, Serban Margineanu hasn't received any support from any Romanian publishing house or from his illiterate and unsporting family.

      We, Serban Margineanu, and I, Allex Radu, the one that translated into English this crime novel, hope to find new readers, fresh echoes and a basic, warm, human understanding for the great work of this remote and unappreciated writer.

      Allex Radu

      This is a complete work of fiction. Any resemblances with people, brands or names from real life are purely coincidental. The Author

      The genius janitor.

      The corridors of the Chemistry Faculty of the Bucharest University were sparkling clean. At that late hour of the evening, the twisting maze of corridors looked positively deserted. The crowd of students from the day courses evaded towards a well-deserved weekend, leaving behind them everything in disarray. Because of the latest austerity measures of the economy, just a single individual has been responsible of cleaning all the hallways, classrooms, the Amphitheatre and unnumbered laboratories. This modern Sisyphus had the whole afternoon and a substantial part of the night to bring the premises of the Chemistry Faculty in a somewhat human form.

      University Professor Vacarescu Antonie Putica, resident of the Chemistry department of the Bucharest Chemistry Faculty looks satisfied at the fresh cleaned pavement; without a doubt, the janitor done his job well, and he abundantly deserved his minimum wage that he was stuck in because of the cost-cutting measures of the Government that brought the whole country in an effervescent state. Tall, overweight, severe, with martial posture, Professor Vacarescu Antonie Putica shouts from habit, with his firm voice:

      When you finish, leave the keys to the night watchman! Got that, Ene?

      Behind the corner, this so-called Ene makes his appearance; he was carrying a bucket with water, and the classic mop. He approves with a nod, in silence. His thin face looks virtually as it’s carved out of wood, doesn’t show any expression. University Professor Vacarescu Antonie gives him an inquisitorial stare, and then he turns back and goes towards the exit.

      With him gone, Marál Ene Voicu continues his work; he washes the hallways with pleasant, economic and almost automatic moves. He still had a lot of halls and laboratories to wash. In one of his overall pockets, especially rugged, he was carrying a few kilograms of miscellaneous keys, strung on special chain links. Marál Ene Voicu, the janitor of the Chemistry Faculty, was, through the prism of his job and his absolute poverty, a totally insignificant man. He’s existence to the building was like one of the tables, test tubes and the chairs. He was just an object on the inventory. Short, he had barely 160 centimeters, matched with his rough 50 kilograms; thin, grey like his overall, it was almost impossible to guess his age. Furthermore, he was speaking extremely rare; he wasn’t paid to talk.

      In fact, Marál Ene Voicu was barely 30 years old. In the last six years, he had worked as a janitor at the Chemistry Faculty, without a chance to catch sometime a better job. Not in a country like Romania, haunted by social earthquakes of some successive and suspect recessions that they were destroying some, and they were enriching others. However, his way of being could assure his continuity in a job where he could retire; he was the quiet and obedient employ, without any demands or hopes. A few people knew that Marál Ene Voicu was once a prominent student at the Chemistry Faculty, a promising chemistry genius, but he has the victim of an inhumane system. Being poor, he didn’t have the necessary connections that could have helped him get a well-deserved scholarship. The only accommodation the Learning System made for him was to give him a job as a janitor at the Faculty where he had once been an outstanding student. The extreme poverty made him quit studying; he had to take care of his old and ill mother who, since them, had died of stomach cancer – officially. Unofficially, at a more thorough examination, it could have been discovered that her death was caused by an advanced malnutrition; sickness that was eating away in secret Ene Voicu. He never knew his father. Marál Ene Voicu was representing one of hundreds of thousands of anonymous tragedies that coexist in a quiet city eaten away by abyssal contrasts.

      … At midnight, Ene Voicu finished the anonymous and routine version of Sisyphus work. He heads towards the watchman cabin. In a profound silence, he places on the tiny wooden counter the impressive stack of keys from all the rooms he had to clean daily. The night watchman was a bent old man who was completing his modest pension spending his nights in the small and tight shack being worn by rebel insomnia. He looked at Marál Ene Voicu for a while, with never-ending pity:

      Mr. Buhus Flocea, the administrator, has ordered you to take outside the wrappers, the ones from cardboard, from the interior yard. They will be picked up by the trash men from the night shift…

      Marál Ene Voicu saying the first words that day:

      From where are those wrappers? he had an almost feminine voice, highly educated and refined.

      It looks that had been some… confiscations made by Customs Police, given to our labs for detailed verifications. It’s not that legal, but the Official Police Laboratory is just for show. Their specialists are not even capable of analyzing substances believed to be prohibited.

      So, are just empty wrappers? I’m a bit tired… said confidentially smiling Ene Voicu. The night watchman

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