Mr. Orazio’s voice was so strained, almost nulled. «Are you afraid of this? That I finish the work I started?».
It was evident; Lizzi seemed to be ready to escape.
«I don’t have any powers anymore, and even if I had them I’m not that child anymore. It’s been more than fifty years since then, I’m different»:
Lizzi backed away slowly, towards her friends.
«Don’t you believe me? Don’t you believe I’m telling you the truth? I chose to forget, to live another life, and to be normal. And now it’s over, I got to the end of the line; it’s fair».
Lizzi grew more and more uncomfortable. There was something she did not have the courage to say.
«Do it! Say what you must; I deserve it, I deserve everything!», he burst into tears again. «I loved them! And they loved me! That wasn’t supposed to happen! I’m the cause of all this!».
Lizzi backed away even more, until she reached her friend. They held their hands. «You’re doing it again! You’re doing the same you did last time!».
Mr. Orazio was embittered. «So? Now’s different, now I only want to die. I don’t want anything else».
«You also said that; exactly those words».
«But I’m not dead».
«Not yet, but you almost succeeded, though».
Mr. Orazio shook his head. «It’s not the same thing».
«Yes, it’s the same, absolutely the same. You wanted to die, but that wasn’t enough. You wanted to suffer, you wanted a horrible death, because you felt as monster; the worst of all»:
Mr. Orazio had started crying again. «I was a child, just a child. I couldn’t understand».
«You still are», Lizzi murmured, in an attic.
Mr. Orazio looked up in confusion. «What did you say?».
«How can you not realize it? Can’t you see? Do you really believe it’s been more than fifty years? Do we look old and decrepit to you?».
«You… I created you…».
«So? Do you think we won’t grow old? That we won’t die when our time comes?».
«What do you mean?».
«That you don’t want to see! You had them in your hands, your mother’s books, you’ve seen when they were published!».
No, he had not thought about it. But they were well preserved, they seemed almost new; so did those boxes, they weren’t filled with dust. «How… how long has it been?».
«Since Billy died? Since you left? Four months».
Mr. Orazio gasped.
«Four months in which we have searched for you everywhere. Four months in which we haven’t done anything else. And not out of fear of ceasing to exist, but because it has always been our purpose, to care for you».
«I’m… I’m…».
«You’re an eight year old child, that’s what you are».
«It’s not possible, it’s absurd. I’ve lived a whole life».
«An empty, useless life, a life you chose for yourself, to suffer even more. Dying wasn’t enough; you wanted to suffer, to suffer in an atrocious way. You wanted to die old and lonely, and wanted that your agony to be long and painful. You wanted to hurt yourself, because there was no forgiveness for what you did».
She took a deep breath and continued. «Four months in which death spread inside of you. Four months, in which the cancer you created ramified, reaching all your organs. Four months of suffering, and that was just the beginning».
Mr. Orazio could not believe them. «Am I a child? A child?».
For a moment Lizzi’s look softened. «A child that has suffered so much».
Mr. Agenore’s voice reached him. «That’s why I’ve waited for you; that’s why I’ve fought death. Even if I’m old, even if I lived a full life for three years. Billy wouldn’t have wanted you to suffer like this. We talked, you know; we talked so many times about what intelligence was, about how it had changed us so much, about how important it was. Billy loved you, he really loved you. He was reckless but he wasn’t bad. He knew the gift you had given us very well. A gift, Orazio, not a curse; it was a gift».
Mr. Orazio couldn’t find the strength to move anymore; he was sitting on the floor and had almost no tears to shed. «I’ve hurt you, I’ve hurt you all».
«You were a child, Orazio, and children make mistakes if there’s no one to take care of them. And even your parents made a mistake; they didn’t understand; they weren’t able to. They tried to take fantasy away from you, and that was horrible».
«I can’t go back, I can’t make it! I can’t bring them back, they no longer exist, and they have never existed! And Billy’s dead! Dead forever, definitely dead!».
«We all die Orazio, the time comes for all of us to go. It’ll happen to you someday, but it’s too soon now. Don’t think about your mistakes, because you really aren’t guilty; think about all the good you’ll be able to do in the future. Think about all the beautiful things you’ll create; about all the life inside of you».
Mr. Orazio felt his strength waning. «It’s late, it’s too late now».
«Your gift hasn’t disappeared, it has always been inside of you; you just have to wish».
«What? To become a child again and make more and more mistakes?».
«Do you want to stay old? A sick old man? Do you think you’ll be more useful to the world like this? Of course you’ll make mistakes, and you’ll grow and make some more. But there’s no limit to the wonders you’ll create. You’ll change the world, Orazio, you’ll make it a better place».
«I don’t know what to do!».
Lizzi took a step forward. «That’s why we exist, to help you».
«How?».
«You just have to wish for it», Mr. Agenore said. «You can be whatever you desire».
Mr. Orazio doubted it would be so simple. «How do I fight pain?».
«Pain is not fought, it’s accepted. Pain is a warning not to make a mistake. It’s never forgotten; that’s what makes us human».
Those words coming from a mouse’s mouth would have made him smile, but instead Mr. Orazio took them seriously.
«What do I have to do?».
«We don’t know Orazio», Lizzi said. «Only you can do it».
Mr. Orazio closed his eyes and tried recalling Billy. Not his death, but the friendship they shared, the love he had for him. It was easy.
A mist spread in the attic.
They all back away, even Mr. Agenore, and left him alone.
Billy the intrepid, Billy the brave, Billy the pirate’s dread, Billy diving into the cheese, Billy running, Billy playing…
The mist was dense, and never had such warmth invaded that attic. They couldn’t see him anymore.
Billy being inside of him all the time, Billy not having ever died, Billy not having left him…
When the mist faded, there was a child lying on the floor; a child in clothes too big for him, a child crying in despair.
The pain was atrocious, it was destroying him. «Billy’s dead!», he cried. «Billy’s no more!». He was confused, despaired. «Mom! Dad! Where are you?».
Then he burst into tears even harder. «No! No!».
The red witch was the first, she left Lizzi’s hand and rushed to hug him. Then Bobo joined and put YoYo in his arms.
One after the other, they all rushed to comfort him, even the rigid Ms. Peggy; and Lizzi, who was also pouring like a fountain.
They all tightened themselves around him, as if they were one, and Orazio’s crying decreased, because they were comforting him. He felt loved.
«We’ll manage», the red witch said, and those were her first words.
February 2011
PORTFOLIO
PREFACE
What is a Portfolio?
It’s a collection of all the best things the artist has done. It’s a visual curriculum in a way.
For a photographer it’s the compilation of their best snaps, for a painter is the reproduction of their most famous paintings.
And for an author?
> For me it’s a panoramic of all my successful writings.
To be more specific my portfolio is made of fourteen stories, the best ones that I have written, and if, despite the size, completely for free. You will see that all the eBooks that I have published, will have the same prize.
Indeed, they will be periodically updated, with the new stories that I write.
Why choose this? I believe is the best way to get myself known. And, I hope, appreciated.
I will you all…
A good Read!
Stefano Pastor
PART 1:
BESTIARY
SPIKE
Translation by James Arwell
Spike was a special dog and I said it all the time, but nobody really believed me. At least until the events occurred which I will narrate to you now.
I was a kid, then, I was ten years old, and Spike had grown up with me. Dad brought him when I was only three, so at that time Spike was no longer so young, at least according to dog age.
I never considered the possibility that one day he would die. However at ten years certain things seem impossible.
Spike was special, I have said it, but I haven’t told you how.
Spike was a clever dog. He did not spend his time chasing cats around, he knew their scratches will hurt him.
Like he knew that food served at the table was better than what he found in his bowl.
But Spike particularly liked plums. He swallowed each in full, he sent them down with a kernel and everything.
Have you ever seen anything like that?
All my friends knew him and had fun playing with him. It was funny to see how much they were craving to have him one after another.
If we got caught by my mother, it was tragic. «Unfortunate! Don’t you realize he can be suffocated? Those kernels could puncture his intestine! Never do it again!». Then, one day, Spike tasted a plum from the spinster’s tree and that’s when trouble started.
The spinster was not called so, it’s obvious. She had another name, but everybody called her that way and the reason was easy to guess. They certainly didn’t tell her to her face and there would be no opportunities, since she never talked to anyone.
She was our neighbor and her garden was covered because she hated children and animals and we did not have permission to go in there.
But Spike was clever, I’ve already told you and he found a way to enter the garden.
That’s how our story begins. It’s history. Because this basically, is Spike’s story.
When Spike entered the garden of the spinster, I did not notice. He wasn’t a small dog, actually. His ancestors had to be a golden retriever, because Spike looked liked them a lot. His size was larger, though, and his hair was not golden, rather prone with stains like a Dalmatian.
At that moment I didn’t know how he entered, I only saw him inside the garden. I knew we will both be in trouble.
It didn’t matter that I was totally innocent, Spike was my responsibility.
He had spotted a plum and he sat in front of it, adoring it. The shrub grew right next to the house, and thus far from the fence, and it had to be very old, definitely older than me. It was more than three feet tall, but had grown twisted, sacrificed by nearby trees. It had loads of fruits, but they were all out of the reach of Spike.
At least I thought so.
I called and called, but that stupid freak did not even turn to look at me. I asked the spinster to let me in, explain the situation? Without even thinking about it.
When Spike started jumping trying to grasp the lower branches, I was about to turn a little and just scream.
He would have made a mess and the spinster would have noticed it of course.
I just didn’t want to be punished, so I turned around the fence trying to look for the point through which he passed.
Going through every single plank, convinced that I would find at least one disconnected.
None at all, there hadn’t been any way to go in. And I started wondering how he passed, as well as what I should do now, if I should try to climb over the fence or not, then I found him right in front of me. As magically as he had crossed to the other side, Spike had been able to return. He still chewed the plums he had stolen, really pleased.
I was also glad that everything was finally resolved, to the point that I did not even scold him. After all it was over.
Oh, how mistaken I was.
Spike returned to the spinster’s garden practically every day.
She did not even notice or at least never left the house. I don’t know what she did in there all day, I once asked mom and she told me she was sewing for the gentlemen. She also said she was very good, had magical hands, and the outfits she prepared were very sought after. At that moment I did not understand almost anything of that explanation.
Certainly, I had never seen her in the garden. However, given the fact that it was a garden, well-kept and full of flowers, I concluded that she cleaned it at the times when I was not present. When I was at school maybe or later in the evening. Maybe even at night.
I had to think again, because after a few days the plums really decreased badly, but I did not hear her scream, so she did not noticed.
How Spike had succeeded I do not know, but there were almost no more fruits on the tree and many branches had been destroyed.
One afternoon I personally witnessed at an absurd scene.
Yes, absurd, I do not know how else to define it, and you would also think so if only you had known Spike.
I saw Spike attacking the tree.
Yes, it is crazy, it was no more about stealing some plums. I saw him scratching the trunk, trying unnecessarily to bend it, fighting against the already bare branches, tearing them, and then worse, digging into the ground to the bare roots and attempting to bite them.
I was paralyzed, clinging to the edge of the fence, the head just protruding. I had never seen Spike so angry and I was worried had he been affected by some kind of disease.
That was the day, not to mention the time and at that moment when the spinster set foot in the garden.
First of all for me the plants have never had any value, I never understood my mother’s fury if I accidentally broke a jar. It was inconceivable that an adult could give such a great importance to a silly flower. Yes, I just did not understand.
The reaction of the spinster frightened me.
It was not only anger but despair. She screamed as if they were tearing her up, ripping off her hair, as I had seen it done only in the movies.
She was a dramatic character, that woman, even though I did not know what to say. Her already gray hair gathered at the back of her head, even though she was only forty years old. A masculine and unattractive face, skirts on top of skirts and aprons that reached her feet, a woolen shawl on her shoulders, which she never left.
They said so much about her in the village. It was said that no man had ever wanted her, there was also some people whispering that she just got involved with one of the ladies who were making fun of her.
Whatever the explanation, she was a lonely woman. She had always been alone and she would remain so.
Her screams also made Spike freeze. The anger with which he had fought against the tree disappeared instantly and he turned around and fled away with his tail between his legs.
The maid threw one stone after another against him, but Spike was too clever and all failed to hit him. I found him on my side of the fence, I was happy but I looked away from the woman so as not to make her feel bad.
Flattened against the planks, I did not dare raise my head. The screams and cries continue incessantly, as the threats shouted out in the wind, yet the spinster never approached our garden.
I walked slowly, keeping myself low
That evening me and Spike had a chat. I explained to him how things were and told him how he was supposed to behave. Even up till today I am sure that he understood all my words, even though, in the light of the events that follo
wed, he didn’t listen careful to me.
«She is a witch», I said to my mother, referring to the spinster.
She considered it a joke. «What are you saying? The is the way she is, she is not comfortable with people. But she never bothered anyone».
Of course we were the ones at fault, but I persisted in not finding her behavior normal.
From that day I put Spike on a leash, to make sure he didn’t cause any more trouble. He continued to give me desperate glances, that would make you pity anyone, but I managed to remain hard.
«You can’t, Spike. You don’t have to go back there ever again».
He went back that same night.
When I looked up to check before I slept I saw him in the garden next door.
There was a full moon, otherwise I would not have noticed. I was sure I had tied him well to his doghouse, but it certainly was not the case. Plus, my Spike was clever, I told you.
I didn’t even think of going to alert Mom and Dad, the only thought I had was to go and get him back.
In the silence of the night he would have been discovered, I was very sure.
I waited for my parents to retire and then sneak out. I was in my pajamas and I had nothing with me except a rope, I wanted to tie Spike up.
This time I was ruthless and climbed over the fence.
When I reached the house, Spike had already made a mess. At first, I did not realize that the house was even more spooky at night and it attracted all my interest. The doors were not locked but the was total darkness inside. Those windows seemed to have dead eyes focused on me.
Spike had already dug a deep hole. Not only that, some roots had been extracted from the ground and lay twisted and chewed. The tree itself seemed to me to hang menacingly to the right. It had almost lost its stability and risked collapsing any moment or the next.
I know better than to call him and make any sound. Instead, I approached gradually to try and sneak in next door.
Spike loved me, I knew it. He almost worshipped me, even though he did not obey me all the time. And yet that night I was afraid of him. I feared he would not recognize me and transfer all the hatred he had for the plant upon me.
Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch Page 9