Darkness

When a person despairs, they should always hope, and when they hope, he should also have doubts. The worst that can happen is for those dark suspicions to come true.

Then darkness arises.

I didn't think about it at all when I on Tuesday, following new information about the missing Belgrade woman Ana Walshe, headed to Swampscott, where her mother-in-law Diana Walshe lives.

The only thing I thought about was how to find the house in a small town the size of my own hometown, Ruma.

As soon as I arrived, I realized that it would not be easy at all because among the population of this seemingly peaceful place, there was a "vow of silence" when it came to the topic of Ana Walshe's disappearance.

I approached people in vain, pleading with them for any information, they would only turn their head away, saying they had not heard anything and did not know anything.

That categorical refusal only made me more determined. "I'll find her, or my name isn't Zorica," I repeated to myself furiously.

And while I was wandering the streets of Swampscott, literally out of nowhere, a polite guy appeared.

"Hey, are you lost, do you need help" - that was, among other things, all I wanted to hear at that moment. And I heard a lot more.

After telling him who I am and where I'm from, he shared some information that seemed incredible to me at the time.

"You know, during the last weekend there were a lot of police in our town and in the whole county. We think they found the body of the missing Ana. Helicopters flew over our town and everything seemed very scary. Rumor has it that they found the body in Peabody, that's where the garbage recycling facility is. You better go there," he told me almost under his breath.

Confused, I continued to insist that he tells me where Mrs. Walshe lives because the need for an exclusive was far stronger than some guesswork out there. In my head, there was still hope that Ana was alive.

He soon explained to me that Mrs. Walshe lives on the other side of the city, but that I should be careful because it is impossible to enter that neighborhood by car unless you live there, due to strong security.

I listened to him. I parked my car near the neighborhood and started on foot.

As I was entering the elite area where Diana lives, information given to me by the kind guy flashed through my head and awakened a terrible feeling.

"Wait, I guess journalists would have reported that the body had been found, if there had been an operation, the police would have announced it. People talk about all kinds of things these days," I repeated to myself and looked for the building and the car, as they were described to me.

"Bingo," here it is, I found it. The satisfaction that every journalist feels when they reach their goal awakened in me as well.

A red Volkswagen belonging to Mrs. Walshe was parked in front of me and did not appear to have been driven that day. I concluded that from the snow that covered it, which fell the previous day.

I reached the front door of the building and just as I was about to ring the intercom, I was interrupted by the sound of a notification on my phone. Breaking news, "Brian Walshe charged with murder of his wife Ana."

I look at the phone, then at the door, then at the phone again.

Shock and disbelief.

Darkness.

I have everything, I'm at the scene, I have a story, an exclusive, something every journalist dreams of, but hope has left me. The hope that Ana is alive and that the light at the end of the tunnel will shine on her three boys. All people get disappointed in their hopes and deceived in their expectations.

Reluctantly, I press the button on the intercom that says Walshe.

It rings, there is no answer.

Silence and darkness around the building.

If there was no darkness we would never see the stars.

Ana, shine brightly.

(Telegraf.rs)