Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch

by Stefano Pastor

  «You’ll see you’ll feel better soon», were Lizzi’s last words.

  When Mr. Orazio opened his eyes he found himself in his room again. His room?

  Not much time seemed to have passed; the sun was still struggling to get through the thick curtains and was likely that it was still morning. The silence was broken only but the sound of the waves dashing against the cliff. There was so much peace and he drove his problems away enjoying the bed’s warmth.

  He did not want to think about Billy, it made him suffer too much even if he did not know why, he did not want to discover anything else about him.

  He felt a strange rustle and then turned his eyes to the door. It was not closed, but just ajar. He heard another rustle.

  Then, another thing, even more disturbing; something started pulling the bedspread, jolting him. He looked around without seeing anything.

  It happened again, as if something was trying to climb onto him. Mr. Orazio shrank to the other side of the bed, with his eyes fixed on its edge, waiting to see who knows what monster emerge.

  But nothing happened. As much as he strived, whoever was trying to climb was not succeeding in the attempt.

  He scraped up some courage and reached the side. He lowered his eyes slowly, prepared to scream in case he needed to.

  Instead he remained agape.

  The teddy bear was there, the one that was sitting on the stairs. But this obstacle was much harder than a step and could not climb up. Clinging the bedspread with his legs, it tried to pull himself up, but fell to the ground right after.

  Mr. Orazio kept looking at him for a couple of minutes, without any idea of what to do. Now, in that moment, he did not find it terrifying at all; on the contrary, its futile efforts were tender. He was astounded of having been so afraid of it.

  What was it trying to do? Did it want to go up? Why?

  And above all what was it? It was not normal that a teddy bear behaved like that, it was not normal that a puppet walked on its legs, and not to talk about that absurd train.

  Driven by an sudden impulse, Mr. Orazio leaned and held the teddy bear. Nothing terrifying happened, it was soft and tender, it was impossible that it hid any strange mechanisms. The teddy bear’s glassy eyes looked at him.

  He put it on the bed, almost regretting his decision; then he moved aside and spied its reaction.

  The teddy bear struggled to get up, and then went towards him. It walked slowly, as if even it was unsure of how to behave.

  Mr. Orazio was much more perplexed. He remained looking at it for a couple of minutes but did not try to move. He felt strange warmth coming from the point where their bodies touched. In the end he dared to stretch his arm and caress the bear’s head lightly. He did not move.

  He did not do anything else, he indulged himself in that peace, allowing the bear to make him company.

  9

  When he woke up again it was time for lunch. Even Lizzi told him so.

  «We’re ready; we’re just waiting for you».

  Who knows what she was thinking about the teddy bear to his side. She surely pretended she had not seen it.

  This time she was alone, but Mr. Orazio did not try to interrogate her.

  He rose carefully, keeping an eye not to make the teddy bear fall, and put a cushion in his place, to hold it. Then he got dressed.

  Lizzi was waiting, silently, and Mr. Orazio understood she would not leave without him.

  When he was ready he realized that the teddy bear had got up too, and was now on his side of the bed, trying to get down.

  Even if he felt like an idiot, he was forced to ask. «Who is he?».

  «YoYo».

  Knowing his name was not particularly useful, Lizzi had bypassed his question.

  Mr. Orazio was clearer. «What is he?».

  Lizzi gave him a warm and naïve look. «He’s a teddy bear, can’t you see?».

  She was teasing him, but Mr. Orazio was becoming used to this too. «Why does he walk?».

  Another naïve look: «I don’t have the slightest idea. Maybe it’s you who has to tell me».

  «Does he also belong to my past?».

  A long slience, very theatrical, but in the end Lizzi deigned answer: «Your mother gave him to you when you were four years old».

  He had imagined something like that. «Which mother?».

  «Your true mother».

  This time she had been explicit.

  Tell me about her.

  He saw her darken and understood he had asked too much. «What was she like? Is she dead? Do you have a picture of her? Can I see it?».

  She shook her head. «There’s nothing left from her in this house».

  «Why?».

  «Because you wanted so»:

  «What do you mean with nothing?».

  «Nothing. There’s nothing left. Nothing that ever belonged to her».

  «What’s the point of going around the house then? How can I remember her if you don’t help me?».

  She grimaced. «There’s nothing physical left, but memories remain».

  Mr. Orazio started to understand. «And do you remember her? Did you meet her?».

  Lizzi nodded.

  «What was she like?».

  She shrugged. «She couldn’t stand me. She hated my pranks». She grinned. «Anyhow she wasn’t bad, deep down».

  «And what did you do here? You told me you had a family; parents; you went to school. Why did you come here? Because of me? Were we… not friends, I understand that, but what were we?».

  She shook her head. «My family has nothing to do in this. Don’t think about them. Pretend I never spoke about them».

  She left him agape again. That girl did nothing but surprise him. He tried to make sense of those words. «Did you live here too?».

  He had guessed, he understood quickly, but Lizzi did not answer nevertheless. «We must go now, they’re waiting for us. We’ll talk later».

  She opened the door and waited for him to walk through.

  When he stepped beside YoYo, Mr. Orazio felt very badly. The bear seemed desperate, he could not find a way of getting down from the bed.

  He then acted instinctively again and held him by an arm. The teddy bear suddenly calmed down and for a moment seemed to have spent its vital charge.

  «Can I take him with me?», Mr. Orazio asked, feeling like a fool.

  «You can do whatever you want?», Lizzi added. «You’re the master in this house».

  Nothing could have astonished him by now, after the latest events, but as soon as he walked into the dining room he stood agape again.

  The big table was prepared, and was full of cakes in all shapes and sizes, along with sweets of all kinds, to the point of flooding the table. Two chairs were occupied, though, by Bobo and the red witch. No one had started eating, they were waiting.

  Mr. Orazio was too amazed to say anything, and Ms. Peggy suddenly came in, carrying two more cakes.

  Lizzi walked him to the place reserved for him, holding his hand.

  «Is this lunch?».

  She gave him her usual naïve look. «You don’t like it? What don’t you like?».

  There was nothing but sweets, the perfume emanating from that food was so intense, to the point of being annoying.

  «Do you always eat like this?».

  Ms. Peggy grimaced. «We had to adapt, the cook won’t prepare anything else. But so far no one has complained».

  Mr. Orazio’s stomach was the only one complaining, preferring a light soup.

  He remained unsure of what to do with YoYo, whose arm was still holding, and decided to sit him on a chair next to his.

  «Won’t you stay with us?», he asked Ms. Peggy.

  The housekeeper stood uncertain for a moment, and then sat at the end of the table.

  Mr. Orazio looked at them one at a time, trying to understand the strange relation that linked them.

  «We aren’t all here, right? There’s someone missing»:

  Ms. Peggy r
eplied without much trouble: «All those that need to eat are here».

  Mr. Orazio tried to ignore the implications of that phrase, but it was not easy. «And what about Mr. Agenore?».

  He had snatched her first smile. «He doesn’t eat some things».

  He swallowed. «And we do?».

  Ms. Peggy shrugged. «Tell the cook you don’t want it. You’re welcome to do so!». And pointed at a door.

  Mr. Orazio was not keen on meeting him at all, but he was afraid of dying prematurely by filling himself up with all those sweets.

  «Who is he? That is, I mean, what is he like? What’s his name? What should I tell him?».

  Lizzi sighed and stood: «So let’s do this!», she said tiredly.

  She went to hold his hand, even if Mr. Orazio had already changed his mind. «There’s no need… it isn’t necessary…».

  Lizzi continued speaking, while she dragged him to the door. «He thought he was making you happy. He was so happy that you had come back»

  «With all that cake?».

  «There was a time you only ate that, you didn’t have appetite for anything else».

  Mr. Orazio swallowed, since he had finally understood the cause of his overweight during his childhood. «And wasn’t there anyone that… opposed him?».

  «Why would they?», Lizzi asked, surprised.

  «My parents… did my parents think it was good like that?».

  «Oh no! They didn’t like it at all. But the cook couldn’t be reasoned with, he didn’t listen to them».

  «And… he won, then».

  «He always wins».

  They went through a brief corridor and headed straight for the kitchen. The smell there was even more pungent and there was no doubt about what caused them.

  When they reached him they found a wall of cakes, and another one lined up behind it, on tables and credenzas, across the huge kitchen. It was a vision from a fable, that would have caused nothing but joy in any child, but that only provoked dismay in Mr. Orazio.

  The room was deserted, there was no one cooking there.

  Lizzi kept pulling him to the middle of the room nevertheless. «Only you can tell him, he doesn’t listen to us».

  «And what if he’s offended?».

  «You give the orders here, don’t you remember?».

  Mr. Orazio froze in the middle of the room, without knowing what to do. Lizzi spoke up. «Orazio said enough! He doesn’t want any more cakes!».

  She pulled his arm. «You tell him too. Tell him what you want».

  Right at that moment the door of a giant oven opened in front of them and two giante cakes slid out, with a mountain of cream on top.

  Mr. Orazio arched his eyebrows, more perplexed than ever.

  «I said stop! Aren’t you listening?».

  This time she elbowed him on the side. «You tell him too!».

  «Who should I speak to?».

  Lizzi pointed her finger. «To him!».

  10

  What Lizzi was actually pointing at was the old wood oven. A completely normal oven; or maybe not, maybe it was not normal. Mr. Orazio checked it. There was no flame inside of it, there were no tubes leaving from the plate, it did not even give off heat.

  Lizzi let him and picked up the cakes, trying to free some space to put them.

  The oven door closed by itself.

  «Eh no, enough! You must stop now!», Lizzi shouted, and then turned to Mr. Orazio: «Tell him what you want to eat».

  Mr. Orazio was aghast: «Is he the cook?».

  «Who else could it be?».

  «He’s an oven!».

  «So? What’s so strange about it? Ovens provide the food you eat».

  The little man shook his head. «Ovens cook the food, but someone has to prepare it and put it inside them».

  «Not this one, he does everything on its own».

  «And where does he get the ingredients from?». He stretched his arms pointing at the kitchen and the mountains of cakes. «Why do you keep filling it up?».

  Lizzi shrugged: «No ingredients, he does everything by himself».

  «He? He cooks… with what? Where is all this food coming from?».

  «I have no idea, it’s always been like this».

  «He… the oven?».

  «Don’t call him oven, he’s the cook, he prefers it that way».

  A terrifying idea raced through Mr. Orazio’s mind. «Does he speak? Is he capable of speaking?».

  Lizzi burst in laughter. «What an absurd idea! How could he do so? The cook doesn’t speak, that’s obvious. But he’s capable of understanding». She spoke up. «As long as he’s willing to listen!».

  Then she pushed him towards the oven.

  «Tell him what you want to eat!».

  «I have to speak… to him?».

  «If you don’t want to be flooded by cakes, I’d say so».

  He felt like a fool again, he suddenly opened his mouth and closed it quickly after. He whispered to Lizzi: «Will he be offended?».

  «Why would he?».

  «Well, you told me he’s doing them for me, he thought he was making me happy… I was a child the last time I was here, right? He still considers me a child».

  «Yes, that’s likely, but…».

  Poor Mr. Orazio felt embarrassed. «Maybe I shouldn’t… I could taste a piece of cake, deep down. They all look delicious».

  Lizzi snorted. «Do whatever you want, but I assure you, you didn’t use to be so cautious».

  She left him there and headed out of the kitchen. Mr. Orazio immediately felt upset at the idea of being alone with the cook and ran behind her. «Wait! What did I use to be like? You told me I wasn’t cautious. What else? What was I like?».

  He was certain that she would not answer, but instead Lizzi slowed down. «You were a child; an eight year old child. You know what children are like».

  Mr. Orazio did not really know. His lonely life had never allowed him to meet any. «Was I bad?».

  «What a strange question you are making».

  Lizzi’s voice was ironical. Mr. Orazio tried to go deeper. «You didn’t like me, did you?».

  Since she kept quiet, he added: «YoYo liked me, though. Even now he still wants to be with me».

  She snorted. «YoYo is no one! He’s a fool, can’t you see? He’s as clever as a chicken. He’s just been the first one. He cannot remember, he’s not capable, he just needs to be pampered».

  «First in what?», Mr. Orazio inquired, with his heart in his throat.

  «You know», Lizzi said, but she was upset. «The first of us».

  The cake had a bitter aftertaste, or maybe it was his dying liver’s fault. Mr. Orazio tried eating with a spoon, and everyone around him went silent. It was a rather sad lunch.

  «I created all of you», he murmured, since he had finally understood. «I’ve created everything. You’re just my dreams, dreams of a child».

  The silence around him was absolute.

  «The teddy bear, the puppet, the train, the sweets-baking oven. And what else? A brother? Some friends? Did I even imagine you, Ms. Peggy?».

  The housekeeper, who was looking more and more like Mary Poppins, preferred to remain silent.

  «You were my dreams, and I forgot you. That’s why you’re offended at me. You can’t forgive me. But you have to understand that I’ve grown up, that… yes, that I didn’t need you anymore. That I wasn’t a child anymore. It’s death, closing in on me, that makes me remember, that brings you to life again. That pushed me here to discover what I was, what I lost. What…».

  Lizzi kept shaking her head.

  «What is it then?».

  «You didn’t understand anything!», the girl exploded. «You’re reasoning! You’re thinking! Once more you’re answering your questions by yourself! You don’t remember anything, you aren’t trying to remember! You haven’t even tried!».

  Mr. Orazio sighed. «What’s the point? You don’t exist. Oh, I don’t mean you aren’t real, but you are only to
me. Whether I remember or not won’t make a difference. Yes, Lizzi, you’re perfectly right: you won’t survive me. When I die, all my dreams will die with me». He lowered his head. «I’m sorry».

  «It doesn’t work like this», said an unknown voice on his shoulders.

  «You’re wrong about everything», said another one.

  «We didn’t even make one step forward», a third one added.

  Lizzi exploded. «Then you handle it! I don’t know what to do anymore!».

  Mr. Orazio looked around but did not see anyone else.

  Then an old woman in the painting in front of him shook her head.

  He jumped to his feet.

  The old woman in the painting moved and started speaking. «He needs help».

  Mr. Orazio shouted, without being able to restrain himself. «Hooray!».

  The old woman was not impressed: «We’re all alive».

  Only then did he realize the walls were filled with portraits, and all seemed to look at him.

  «The whole house is alive», the old woman continued. «Life is everywhere, all around us».

  Mr. Orazio started looking at the chair he was sitting on, filled with doubt.

  «Did I do that?», he asked, then a terrible fear struck him. «Am I real?».

  «We aren’t here to answer those questions», the old woman said. «Only you can find the answer».

  Ms. Peggy stood up, leaving the table, and turned to the whole room. «We’ll survive him. No matter what he thinks, what you may think…». And then pointed at the pestiferous girls. «… we’ll survive him anyway. We exist and that’s it. The fact that he dies must not be a concern. It doesn’t matter what he was to us, now it’s nothing. He chose to leave us!».

  Lizzi was not upset about that speech at all. She giggled and whispered to Orazio: «You’ve made her angry».

  He could not understand. «Now?».

  Lizzi shook her head.

  The old woman in the painting tried to get the word, but was preceded by an incredibly fat middle aged man, in another painting hanging on the wall in front of her. «I don’t think this should be the only reason to justify our intervention».

  «Do you think you owe him something? Are you sure?», Ms. Peggy replied.