Story of a Ghost Town

by Francesco Brasiello

  We retrace on our steps, then, looking back now and then to see if somebody is following us, or hoping to spot an happy family with a little girl, coming out from the curve... but there’s nobody. We’re near the departure point, we don’t know what to think. Certainly we no longer find the car we saw before, ...instead, there it is. We decide to take the other road, the one that goes down to the source, but nothing takes out from our minds what was experienced just before. We take smartphones to search news about Laino Castello on the internet. I read that was abandoned because of hydro geological instability, and then? Those recent signs “Historic centre”; “No Trespassing (authorized only)”; those fireplaces; the fences... what are they doing there?

  ‹‹Wasn’t it abandoned after the earthquake? Why they speak about hydro geological problems?››

  ‹‹I think the two things are closely related. Probably this terrain’s morphology has meant that the earthquake was more destructive than it would be somewhere else›› an engineer in the group is always welcome. It is as if you have the Italian tv program “Super Quark” on demand.

  We google again Laino Castello trying to see, at least, how it was. No! There are few images, but taken from a distance. We can’t find a clear photo about this phantomatic “Historic Centre”... does it exist or not?

  Enough! Let’s go away, we are no longer assured, now we just want to go back home.

  Going back and getting closer to the parking lot, we hear voices: -The owners of the car! Maybe we are going to know the child and her parents! Where are they coming out from?- I think. When we got nearer, we saw nobody, no one was coming from behind us, on the pathway of the source, and certainly not from the castle’s. And the place is isolated for Kilometers.

  We proceed slowly, making sure that nothing is going to surprise us.

  Near the fence that sits atop, there’s a big belly- man talking on the phone, a woman and a younger man. No little girls. We absolutely have to ask questions. We start to talk to the woman who we recognize is Romanian.

  ‹‹Hello! Is the historic centre in that way?››

  ‹‹Yes, historic centre that way!››

  ‹‹Is it possible to visit it?››

  ‹‹No, that’s not possible!›› and meanwhile she throws a strange look to the big belly- man.

  ‹‹Why we cannot visit it?››

  ‹‹It no possible!›› she answer with that Romanian accent.

  ‹‹There must be a reason. Is it unsafe?››

  ‹‹NO, you can’t!›› peremptory and almost annoyed.

  We begin to feel baffled by those non-explaining and hasty answers.

  Then comes the big man which, with the theatricality of who has the situation in hand and with strong Calabresian accent, says:

  ‹‹You can go, go on...you can enter››.

  ‹‹Excuse me, but the sign says only authorized persons, surveilled area››.

  ‹‹No, don’t you worry! Come with me››.

  In the meanwhile he continue to speak on the phone in an incomprehensible way, that I think it’s arbëreshe.

  Anyway the self-confidence and friendliness of that big man makes us immediately forget what has happened till that moment: -Probably it was just self suggestion...but... and the voice of the child?-

  Now it seems that it happened years ago. I don’t want to ask for any explanation of such a thing. Maybe it was just a cat: when they’re in heat, they make so strange verses... and we were already full of strange thoughts. Actually, there’s no point to think about it. A quick tour and then everybody at home.

  We continue for a while with the big man then, heartened, we turn away and head towards the old town by ourselves.

  We couldn’t know what we were going to face!

  II- Interlude

  We see the cross, again. It no more seems so frightening, but still very attractive. We approach it: actually is very old, it oozes antiquity. Dead lichens cover its surface, giving it an even more unique look.

  We are in a forgotten village where, for sure, we’ll never return, yet something keep us from taking a picture in front of the cross that, who knows how many hundreds of years it is fascinating people. We walk around it, as if it could say something: we expect it conveys us something, after everything we passed through, but it’s just an old cross.

  -It’s amazing how fear can create such realistic fantasies that remain so even when you return to be rational- I think.

  We continue quietly beside the castle and see again the extinguished fires surrounded by stones. We still don’t understand why they’re there. Also the fences... there’s not only one. At least two, maybe three, I can’t remember well. They are mostly located in correspondence of that sort of natural caves that I mentioned, and they limit their borders

  ...we continue to see extinguished fires surrounded by stones... Also the fences...there’s not only one.

  on two sides. What could be the purpose, we cannot know, or rather, not yet, and maybe it would be better not to know.

  We are at that point where before we heard that delicate voice. Who knows where it came from. I still can’t convince myself that it wasn’t a human voice. It was so near.

  -Bah! Let’s forget it-

  The road runs along the rock upon which the castle lords, with a slight curve; when we are in the middle of it, we finally begin to see the long awaited historical centre, the old town.

  We see, in the distance, a bell tower, in perfect state, and various buildings around it. At a first glance we see a single street, not too wide, newest up to half, unpaved the rest of it. On both sides there are buildings that look united to each other. Plants are growing inside, some of them also invade the roadway. A contour of weeds covers the junction point between street and buildings. There are inputs of all kind: doors beyond which you can spot stairs that loose in the dark; bigger doors that could be two meters and a half by three, they’re probably stores; vestibules arc-shaped beyond which one can see other arcs. There are courtyards surrounded by other buildings.

  ...a bell tower in perfect state and various buildings around...

  We enter the now deserted town. Actually the street isn’t single, ‘cause we can see the others are very narrow streets. They go inside the town between the buildings, we could not see them before from that perspective.

  The oldest and abandoned part is the farthest, beyond the pavement we are going through. In fact, ahead, the buildings are much worst, they look abandoned from ages. Finally we think we have understood the reason for the sign with the prohibition of pedestrian traffic. The old town is by now an open-air workshop, with construction sites everywhere. Theorically, the intention should be to make it a touristic and visitable site, and that wouldn’t be bad, either. In those not yet touched, it elude a truly indescribable desolation. Intact ovens hanging in the air, fireplaces that still seem to emanate heat, chairs...some chairs are still there.

  -It shouldn’t have been easy, for those who lived there, to abandon everything and start over again, even if it wasn’t too far from there-. The town has its charm, it is from medieval times; in comparison, the reconstructed part looks like a tourist village. In the newest part; the works are suspended. Inert abandoned concrete mixers, restructures only externally made, just to give the impression of works being carried out. -Another way to steal money from the European’s community founding- we think bitterly.

  Intact ovens hanging in the air, fireplaces still seem to emanate heat, chairs...some chairs are still there

  We still go around a bit, between collapsed houses, scattered structures and crumbling looms. Something capture our attention. On an external wall of a house, that looks someway already restructured, there is a tombstone. It is of a little girl death in 1980, probably during the earthquake. Considering that she was born in 1970, she was ten when the worst happened. It’s a poor tombstone: a simple white marble slab with black streaks, in the middle the child’s picture, very simple indeed, birth and de
ath dates. No ornaments. There isn’t even the name. Surely the tombstone was already there when they started the reconstruction works, and didn’t remove it for respect to the young deceased...no, maybe it’s not like this...

  Looking better, the wall around the gravestone appears broken, as if they had tried to remove it, but why? Was it hindering the works? Did they reconsider the removal? There are no flowers, it is abandoned to itself, like everything here. Underneath it, that has been put to the height of man, there are incomprehensible writings. They look to be made with spray paint. What we can understand is that the language is not Italian, nor English, nor German. They just look like bulleted letters:

  PAACH UTIA’AL LELA’ NOH KAAH

  ‹‹What the hell does it mean?›› I ask .

  ‹‹And what is this?›› says Antonio nearing the writing. ‹‹To me, it looks blood!›› answers Anna.

  ‹‹Blood? Who would do such a thing? Don’t we start again››.

  Just at that moment the camera begins to whims: I just can’t take a picture of that strange writing. The photos I’m trying to make are all overexposed, too white. I’m forced to give up, I don’t understand what’s the matter with it, what could have happened from one moment to the next.

  While I carefully memorize the strange phrase on the smartphone, I say smiling:

  ‹‹Oh boys! What if it was the ghost of this child to say “Mum”?››

  ‹‹Come on, don’t you joke, Frà››.

  ‹‹Oh how boring! It was only a way to light up the situation››.

  I’m still wondering why there is only that tombstone there. I don’t think the child is the only one that had the worst. Houses not yet restored are for a post-war scenario. I believe many people lost their lives in the earthquake.

  Anyway, happy to have made sense to our trip, we move away from the tombstone to go to the exit of the old town.

  A slight cold breeze is raised, leaf’s noise all around. The way they move looks like a whirlwind. A light grey mist surrounds me like odorless smoke. My eyesight is blurring, I think it could be because of the lentils. I blink my eyelids trying to see better, pulsation accelerate without any reason.

  I have the feeling of tingling eyes. -It’s not because of the lentils- I think. I recon it’s as when I went to donate the blood: after that abundant donation I was going to lose my senses and began to see so many colorful and bright spots. Now is the same.

  For a few seconds I feel alone. Then I hear someone’s breath near me: -I’m not alone!-

  More than a sigh, it seems like a rantle.

  I head towards that direction and in that same moment Anna makes me jump out of my skin:

  ‹‹AAAAARGH...What was that?›› she suddenly screams.

  ‹‹Ehiiiiii...what were you screaming for? You made me jump›› I say.

  ‹‹She was here, don’t tell me you didn’t see her!›› she exclaims looking around hasty and frightened.

  ‹‹But what !?››

  ‹‹No, boys, please...let’s go away. A shadow passed near me, I got shivers.››

  ‹‹A shadow!? What do you mean?››

  ‹‹Yeah...something...I felt something, I can swear it...it passed just in front of my eyes. Please, let’s go away!››.

  ‹‹Anna, first you say not to joke about these things, and then you try to scare us?››

  ‹‹Are you stupid? Damn! I really saw it. I go away, I’m not going to stay here anymore››.

  ‹‹Come on, we trust you. Anyway we were going back›› says Antonio with sufficiency. But she is visibly shaken.

  I don’t want to mention the sensations we proved, because by now they disappeared. Actually I couldn’t say when, they disappeared. Does the things Anna felt where real? And what about Antonio? He too felt something? Who knows! I wouldn’t scare them again, so I don’t say anything.

  We go backward, this time to leave this place definitively.

  We pass again along the rock spur at the base of the castle, where there are fireplaces, we look again at theme, and the more we look, the more we can’t understand. Perhaps they were used by the workmen who were involved in the reconstruction. Could there be a plausible but intangible reason for the abandonment of the construction sites? What if they escaped? It isn’t so usual to find all those extinguished fires near an abandoned town. Could somebody camp in such a place?

  I look around to the other villages with the binoculars and focus on the nearest one: actually they’re restored, but looking more carefully to the houses, I can see some areas where the plaster comes off and others seems to be patched in a hurry. One could really say that the workmen escaped... and not recently because of the plants already grown up.

  Those fireplaces, then, made with so much care...it looks like...-Stop you!- I say to myself -you are thinking unrealistically... again-.

  At the middle of the pathway we see a narrow side-road that goes up to the castle. We can’t understand how we didn’t see it before. Yet it clearly stands out. Above there is also part of a fence. We decide to go up there because we won’t have the opportunity to come back here again. We head straight to the path and can now understand why we didn’t see it before: a big bush almost covers the passage, making it invisible to those who head down to the historic centre. We could have seen the fence, but none of the three noticed it. We were probably excited to be able to finally visit the old town.

  ‹‹Oh guys! Do you really want to go up to the castle?... I want to leave, this place scares me!›› says Anna.

  ‹‹Come on! We’ll come down right away... but if you feel more quite staying here alone, you can wait for us to get down›› I say taking her to her.

  ‹‹I have a bad feeling... let’s go home!››

  ‹‹Anna, you are impressed. Let’s go to have a look. Remember that we won’t have the opportunity to come here again...come on!››

  ‹‹We have to keep in mind that it will soon be dark ...Anyway I’m against it!›› she says somewhat mumble.

  ‹‹Come on! I don’t think it’ll take much time. It isn’t so high.››

  We overpass the bush and start climbing to the castle. It’s clearly a new path: there is a new fence all along one side and nice big stone steps that favourish the rise. After a couple of minutes we are no longer able to see the surrounding landscape: a dense agglomeration of trees hampers the sight and prevents us from understanding what height we are.

  ‹‹We should soon be there›› says Antonio.

  As soon as I finish to say this, we see two identical signs to those near the gate at the beginning, but much older and rusty:

  “Video surveillance Area”, a pedestrian ban’s sign with the writing “Except authorized”

  -They were probably going to restore in here too-.

  But something doesn’t fit. Going on, just a few meters away from those signs, one can see that the trail has been restored, but from there on, hasn’t been cared for. In fact it looks abandoned: most of the stones are even split. Of course you can walk quite well, but not with a positive feeling. They are darker than those we’ve walked on so far, there are little plants and herbs growing between them and in the splits, some stones are detached. It’s difficult to explain: new trail that seems old and also the surrounding flora seems wilder to us.

  -This is so strange!-

  ‹‹Guys, we’ve come up here... is it ok if we keep going a bit?››

  ‹‹All right, as soon we realize it isn’t safe we go back›› says Antonio.

  We prepare to proceed... in a minute I start shivering. The atmosphere change suddenly, again that cold breeze to envelope us. On the ground a light and almost imperceptible layer of fog:

  ‹‹There is more humidity here!››

  That is, it’s quite chilly...

  ‹‹The weather is changing again!››

  ‹‹I put my sweatshirt on››.

  Everyone wears sweatshirt or jacket. Light has decreased too:

&nb
sp; ‹‹Plants are thicker!››.

  ‹‹Let’s hope it becomes clearer and lighter as we step up...here is a little bit scaring!››

  The trail is longer than we thought: from below the castle seemed closer. And the path gets worst more and more. Every now and then there are trees on the ground, certainly uprooted by some storm. It’s clear there hasn’t been maintenance for a long time: in order to pass we are forced to overtake or to raise some bounds to pass under them. There are some others on the left side, we can clearly see the roots. Every time I pass near them, I fear they could suddenly fell.

  It is at just a short walk from me and immediately attracts my attention: a smooth, glossy area among the weeds, along the path. It could be a leather bag. I approach it wondering what could it be. The more I get closer, the more I realize it begins to have a shape. Or rather, of course is inert, but my eyes begin to draw the contour.

  If I hadn’t started to recognize ribs, I might have spent more time to understand that it was the old carcass of an animal.

  The broader part, the one that I had seen from afar, corresponds to the body of a beast lying on one side. Because of the size, I think of a deer right away, but I believe there aren’t any in this area. It’s dark and it looks burnt. The bones are covered by what I believe is the skin of the animal, now pulled and snapped so much that the skeleton appears thick, and the chest is perfectly visible. The extremities of the front paws are completely without flesh that, instead, is present but mummified in other parts of the body. I’m now closed to that skewed skeleton, but it doesn’t smell nasty, that’s why I suppose it’s there from long ago. And I don’t know why that bloody thing makes me worried.

  The teeth are well visible, in an endless grunge. They’re sharp, most of all the two canines that I can see. A black hole occupy the place of the left eye, by now no more existing. I look without stopping, just slowly passing around it. I don’t even know if my companions have seen it, I’m too busy in my thoughts. Maybe they told me something, but I was barely listening. I walked a few feet away from that decomposed carcass and I see there is another one. It’s smaller, but it surely belongs to the same animal. Is a series of bones held together by the same black skin, just the same size of a chicken thigh. It might have been detached by another animal but, if so, it should have been a big one, ‘cause the bones seem to me a very hard type. From this angle I can see another disconcerting thing...the largest carcass is resting on crossed wooden boards... I think of the image of the cross with the animal tied to it, vertically placed ... as an alarming sign warning not to go further.