The Collector of Names

by Miha Mazzini

  Adriano continued:

  "Well, that woman from India lives there. The one whose husband died. Five years ago."

  "Seven years," interrupted Bruno sternly.

  "OK, seven then. It doesn't really matter. Do you remember her?"

  The boy shook his head.

  "Yeah, I thought so," said Adriano. "You're too young. Since her husband died, she's never come out. She's living alone with a son I've never seen."

  "Me neither... me neither..." went round the circle.

  That was no news. The whole village was speculating about the stranger and her son. They lived in complete isolation and that alone was a good enough reason for curiosity and gossip.

  Adriano returned to his story:

  "Well, the other evening, we were wandering around there and saw..."

  "Miro saw it first," explained Bruno.

  "Bruno, you're a real bore! What will become of you! Well, Miro saw a light shining from the cellar window. But it was no ordinary light. It was... how shall I put it..."

  Suddenly they all started describing it.

  "Green..."

  "... a poisonous green."

  "Satanically green ... "

  "A terrible green!"

  "... light," continued Adriano. "And then Luka said somebody should go and see what was going on in the cellar."

  "Somebody should go and see!" said Bruno meaningfully. "Somebody!"

  "Yes, and nobody went. Nobody dared. At the end, after he'd shouted at each one of us," Adriano pointed to Luka, "he didn't go either. He took five steps towards the house and shat himself."

  Luka jumped again and this time he caught Adriano unawares and knocked him over. He wanted to jump on top of him when the boy said:

  "I'll go and see what that light is. If it's there again tonight?"

  "It will be. We've gone there three evenings now and it's always there. But don't boast prematurely, you've never seen that kind of green ever before. There's nothing like it!"

  Luka slowly relaxed his hands from the fighting pose and stepped back.

  "Are you scared, boy?"

  "No!"

  "You're lying!"

  "That's nothing, just to go there and look."

  "You don't have to!" interrupted Adriano whilst shaking the sand off his T-shirt.

  "I'll go!" repeated the boy calmly.

  *

  It was getting dark as they stood on the edge of the woods, hidden in the pine-trees. They had not come along the path which they could still just about make out at the end of the valley; they had walked here along the sea, which took them a lot longer. They had plenty of time before evening. There had been no conversation and they had passed a very silent afternoon.

  The sun swelled and turned red above the sea, leaving its signature on the windows of the villa, behind which no movement could be seen.

  The boy started hoping that there would be no green light that night. He was not anxious or scared. All the way there he had a strong feeling that nothing would come of it all. The trial he had set himself would not take place. Fate would make sure of that. Definitely.

  The sun sank into the sea and in spite of the rays of light left behind, darkness started spreading amongst the trees.

  "It won't be there today," said Adriano in a whisper (and with hope?).

  They waited a bit longer.

  "Let's wait for the darkness," said Luka, "the light always comes on with the darkness."

  The boy knew his mum and dad were already looking for him around the village, so far probably still without a belt in their hands. But if he did not come back soon... Anyway, he was too far now and there was no chance of getting back early enough to avoid a beating. Even if he got up straight away and ran along the cart-track which cut the island in two, he would need more than half an hour to reach home, which would be too long for his father's patience. He could imagine the familiar figure opening the door forcefully and taking the "educational belt" hanging on a hook as a warning to the children. He would grab it with his right hand, fold it so that it became very short and give his palm a short slap. As a warm up. Without realising, the boy stroked his backside.

  "It's dark," said Bruno.

  "It won't happen. Let's go."

  Luka persisted, as expected.

  "Let's wait! Maybe it's still too light. The moon is so bright tonight!"

  The boy looked through the branches of the trees and stared at the moon. Only a sliver of it was still missing. Its silver light made them look like princes. He looked at Adriano, who was breaking a pine-tree branch by beating it against the ground. He picked up a new one, squeezed it in his palm and rapidly hit the stones. The thin wood broke without a noise.

  Suddenly Adriano's left cheek became green.

  They jumped to their feet and grabbed hold of the tree trunks.

  "That's it!" breathed Bruno.

  "Don't go!"

  "I'm going!"

  The boy stepped forward and only now got a front-row view. The whole house was completely dark, apart from the cellar window. It did not look as if somebody was shining something to light the stairs while they walked down. The window just lit up suddenly and completely with a dense green light, which cut across the meadow and penetrated the pine-trees.

  The colour was indescribable and it looked (oddly?) evil, unnaturally poisonous. Who was it who had said that?

  The boy stopped and looked at it.

  "Well, can you see now?" said Luka. "Do you understand now?"

  "Yes, I understand. Are you coming with me?" replied the boy bravely, even though he did not feel courageous. He was tingling from the inside of his arms through his armpits and across to his heart.

  "Holy Mary, be with me," he said to himself, stepping onto the grass and starting to approach the house.

  It was probably some stupid thing. Brandy making? That'll be it! Or...? What could produce such a colour? He thought hard but could not think of anything.

  He stepped into the light and when he looked towards its source he was not blinded. He could make out the window frame and occasionally, just for a split second, a shadow moving around. Or shadows?

  A silly thought: he was spying on people whose names he did not know. Then he recalled he had heard the name of the Indian woman, but like the rest of the villagers he could not remember it. It was too foreign and difficult to pronounce. He had never seen the child either and did not know his name. Nobody in the village did, even though nobody found that strange or at least they never talked about it. But they talked about everything else, oh yes!

  He could sense the looks of those in the woods. To go back, like Luka did? To be his equal? Never! After all the trials of the day he had already surpassed him. He was not aware of the fact that in the morning when he had started the whole thing it was only to become their equal, and now it was all about proving that he was different, superior.

  A shadow, this time he definitely saw a shadow behind the glass. A raised hand? Holding something? How strangely it was lowered! So... He could not quite see, he had to go nearer.

  He started to count his steps. Ten. And the shadow crossed the light again. Another ten steps and again the shadow.

  Another ten steps, the shadow.

  Another ten steps...

  ... he was by the window.

  He looked through.

  *

  Adriano was the first to lose his nerve.

  "What the hell is he doing?"

  Nobody answered. It did not matter, the question sounded rhetorical anyway. They were each pressed against a pine-tree, looking towards the green cellar window. The boy stood in front of the window, motionless, like a foreign body in the rays of light, staring inside. None of them had a watch but they knew quite a lot of time must have passed already. The knees of those who were kneeling were beginning to hurt. Bruno leant his cheek against a sticky patch of tree sap and - a mistake! - tried to wipe it off, ending up smearing it all over his face and hand.

  "May
be one of us should go and get him?" said Luka.

  "Who?"

  Luka turned abruptly towards Adriano.

  "You’re always taking the piss! Just watch it!"

  "I've just about had enough of you," said Adriano and they all felt he meant it. Even Luka himself, who started flexing his muscles whilst searching for words.

  Not a sound could be heard from the villa. The crickets kept on singing, a gentle breeze started blowing from the sea, and the green blades of grass trembled in the shadow of the tree branches in rhythm with the needles above them.

  "I'll go for him," said Adriano.

  He got up slowly and his stiff knee-joint made a cracking noise.

  "I'll go," he said again as if hoping that somebody would try to stop him.

  Luka was looking down at the ground, feeling that his position was collapsing without a sound, even though he had taken so long to build it.

  Slowly, hesitantly Adriano left the shelter of the woods. After a few steps Bruno joined him. They looked at each other and walked on side by side with a trifle more courage.

  Bruno tripped and put his foot down noisily trying to catch his balance.

  "Shhhh!" hissed Adriano and grabbed his elbow.

  "Can you hear anything?"

  "No."

  "Me neither."

  "Let's walk half way and then crawl," whispered Bruno.

  "Yeah, that'll be better. Let's not look inside otherwise we might freeze like the boy."

  They nearly turned round and ran back.

  "We've got to save him!"

  "We've got to!"

  "Shall we go?"

  "Let's go."

  They started walking again and after a few steps Adriano realised that he was still holding on to Bruno, who did not seem to mind at all. Adriano let go, even though he immediately regretted it. Feeling somebody else's pulse under his fingers had calmed him.

  They fell to their knees and then onto their stomachs and started crawling. The light was spilling out above them.

  "Don't look inside!"

  "I won't! I won't!"

  They were pushing their faces into the grass and suddenly found themselves next to the boy. Adriano reached out with his hand and grabbed him by the ankle. The reaction was instant and loud. The boy screamed:

  "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

  The light went off instantly. They expected voices, shouting, signs of excitement and pressed themselves into the ground. But apart from the screaming above them, there was no noise. The boy suddenly stopped and then there was a complete silence.

  They waited and did not dare to move.

  Adriano slowly raised his head and looked up. Bruno followed. The boy was still staring ahead with his eyes wide open. He looked enormous from the ground as if his head was right up in the clouds.

  Bruno mumbled to himself.

  "There's something very strange, something...."

  "What?" hissed Adriano. "What?"

  "I don't know!"

  "Adriano, look, look! LOOK!"

  Bruno grabbed his shoulders, digging his fingers so deep it hurt. Adriano was looking around, his eyes scanning the walls, meadow and the wood, but he could not see anything which would justify Bruno's horror.

  "LOOK! LOOK!"

  Bruno turned onto his side, looked up and screamed.

  "WHAT? WHAT?" started shouting Adriano. "What?"

  How their voices carried across the open spaces! They filled the night.

  "LOOK! THERE! LOOK!"

  Bruno's finger was drawing big lines in the air finding it impossible to point in the right direction. Adriano finally managed to wriggle out of his hands.

  "CAN'T YOU SEE? CAN'T YOU SEE?" Bruno carried on shrieking and his horror slowly started giving way to despair and panic at his friend's stupidity and unresponsiveness.

  Adriano looked towards the motionless boy. He strained his eyes to pierce the darkness and find the cause of Bruno's terror. He could not see anything. Nothing even remotely suspicious. Just the whiteness of the rescued boy's T-shirt and head.

  The whiteness of his T-shirt and...

  ... and...

  his head?

  HEAD?

  Adriano grabbed Bruno with all his strength and pulled him up. They stood a foot behind the boy, who did not even flinch. His hair was completely white.

  "I'm scared..., I'm scared..." Bruno kept repeating.

  Adriano shook him.

  "Me too! ME TOO! CALM DOWN, DO YOU UNDERSTAND! CALM DOWN!"

  "Yeah, yeah... I'm calm... I'm... I'm... I'm..."

  "What are we going to do? What?"

  Bruno tore his eyes away from the white head for the first time.

  "One of us should..., one of us should turn him round..., this way..."

  "Yeah..."

  They were pressed against each other and they both thought how much the other one trembled.

  "Adriano, I daren't! I daren't. Will you?"

  "Why me? Why?"

  O, hell, why him? But at the same time he knew very well that they could not go on like that. Would all the binds holding his body and soul together break and would his innards just spill out like fish out of a fishing net?

  He would do it.

  Slowly he started reaching for the boy.

  A few centimetres from his shoulder he stopped.

  Suddenly he could not hear Bruno's breathing anymore.

  But he had already touched the boy! Earlier, by the ankle. Had he been icy cold? He could not remember.

  He grabbed him and turned him.

  Bruno screamed.

  Fear gripped his heart and for a moment he thought it would burst. But his fear was unfounded.

  "It's alright Bruno. It's nothing. He's just unconscious!"

  "His eyes! Adriano, his eyes?"

  "It's nothing, Bruno, it's nothing! His eyes have turned! That's all. That's all!"

  Their shouting and shoving must have brought the boy round. They noticed his mouth opening and his lips moving. They watched him expectantly. As if one word from his mouth could wash away all the fear, return his hair to its normal colour and restore the night peace.

  He moved his lips. In bursts and twitches.

  Bruno and Adriano leant forward without realising and nearly touched his face.

  "A... AAA... AA... A... A AAAA. AAA....." he stammered for an unbearably long time and then suddenly collapsed, making his startled rescuers jump back.

  *

  She replaced the wooden lid and checked whether it was on properly. Then she knelt down, put her hand on it and whispered:

  "Goodbye. They interrupted us, before you became complete."

  The contents of the wooden box still had not cooled down completely and she could feel them glowing through the lid. She stroked the wood and got a few splinters in her hand. She got up without moving her eyes away from the box.

  In there. Her son.

  "Goodbye. Sleep! Wait!"

  As she put her foot on the bottom step she looked back once more. The morning sun fought its way through the window and its first conquest was the large tablecloth in the corner, covering the boxes, containing mainly souvenirs from her husband's diplomatic life.

  That window and the nosy village boys. Who knows what they had seen and what they would tell in the village. Would they believe them? Would they come in the night and set fire to the house? Would they try to kill her child?

  She added the last bit of protection that was in her limited power: she knelt on the fourth step, bent her head, touched the wood with her forehead, sensed him and then reached deep inside between her legs with her hand, dampened her fingers and used them to write that name on the step. With letters which were immediately absorbed by the wood. Maybe it would help, but only against the weaker ones.

  She looked at the wooden box - one of many - and sighed.

  "I have carried out my duty, now it's not up to me anymore," she told herself. "I just have to make sure it's dark in her
e but the rest is out of my hands."

  She closed the cellar door carefully and locked it. She checked that it was really locked. She put the key inside her clothes and the coolness of it refreshed her. It seemed so real - and most importantly - unplanned and unanticipated. Everything else had gone exactly according to plan and - was it really possible? - could she really be craving sensations which would slow her down, break her concentration and convince her that she was still alive?

  She picked up the wooden planks and tools prepared in advance and boarded up the outside of the cellar windows so that the sun could not reach the resting place. Should she have done it before the ritual? Was that her mistake, had she relied too much on the remoteness and isolation of the place?

  She returned to the kitchen and put on Greta's apron, deliberately the wrong way round. She did not tie the ribbons, she sewed them together with a shoemakers thread. Then she opened the cupboard containing weights and carefully divided them among the various apron pockets.

  She locked the front door and hung the key on the hook by the door-frame.

  Whoever came, they would not have to break in.

  The sky was completely clear and she turned her face towards the pale sun, which was pretending to be weak when in a few hours it would burn mercilessly. In a few hours, she thought, a few hours after her.

  She took a deep breath and started walking towards the sea with her eyes closed. When she passed the last stones and felt the sand under her feet she looked at the horizon. The last bits of white mist were dissolving above the water. The surface of the sea was completely smooth. She did not disturb it with a heavy step, she melted into it with a slow movement and broke the stillness stretching out to where the sea touched the sky.

  Suddenly she heard a voice in her head, more a feeling than a voice.

  Darkness, loneliness, fear, Mama!

  Without stopping, she sent him a message:

  "Be quiet, lie there and wait. They will come and then you will get up."

  The sensation passed. How many more times would he have to nearly wake up in all those years of waiting? All alone? Buried? Melted?

  The water covered the top of her dress, surrounded her neck, drowned her mouth, eyes, head. She did not stop walking.