The legacy

by Quelli di ZEd

  But the moment came soon after. It was very short, a flash, a blink of an eye. If Simon had not warned - do not miss the moment! - would not even perceived. Instead he recognized him and was ready to exploit it.

  The pressure of his hands against his stomach lost intensity. Daniel's expression changed, and the concentration with which he was devoted to a key to his survival gave way to real marvel.

  He stepped back slightly as pushed by an invisible force - in him is no part of me ! - not strong enough to move it, but enough to take him by surprise. In that fleeting moment, his hands fell away from the shirt of Cristina and the landscape around them, possibly due to the temporary diversion of Daniel, came to live.

  Cristina lost no time in finding himself unable to move, it flashed back with all his might in the body. For the momentum he lost his balance and fell on my ass, scratching the palms of the hands, which had tried to soften the blow. For a second I feared he had made the fatal mistake, and actually saw Daniel regain full control of themselves and point them on the scary eyes. But he was agile enough to give rise to their feet and shoulders, setting out a step along the walkway of the dock.

  "NO, STOP!" Being yelled, holding out his hands, his face still more disfigured with rage.

  Cristina stood out with a jolt when it was almost more than a meter at the end of the catwalk and, accompanied by screams of Daniel, fell like a dead weight in water of the Po and disappeared below the surface. He felt the cold water against the skin and the pressure of the pressure that was opposed to its sinking. He touched the sandy bottom with shoes and felt touching the skin of the arms of something solid that could not give a name. An infinite number of tiny bubbles from the bottom and climbed stroked his face.

  A moment later he began to reemerge and terror came over her. She would return to the surface and would not have stood a chance. Simon gave her the opportunity to fulfill his project had somehow distracted Daniel giving her the opportunity to escape, but now all was lost. Maybe your grandmother was right: there was no way to change the destiny, the inheritance.

  He began frantically waving his arms and hands with palms facing upward, from bottom to top, in the act opposite to what the instinct for survival that suggested, to remain on the bottom. At first the effort seemed too much and the attempt hopeless, but suddenly a strong current made it twirl underwater beneath the surface, sbalzandola like a piece of paper floating in the wind. When he stopped, found he had stuck his right foot on the bottom: he felt tiny twigs wrap the skin under his jeans, raised at the ankle.

  As he opened his mouth into a broad smile, letting the water penetrate the lungs, his last thought was of his father and brother. He would have to wait long before they can be reviewed, perhaps, as he wished to see his mother shortly thereafter.

  ***

  They found his body a few days later, further down the valley, surrounded by swollen and yellowish foam that Cristina was so hated.

  ***

  Matthias had told his father that he dreamed that Simon showed him the exact place where Cristina had dived. No one would believe him, but Roberto had no doubt that the child was telling the truth. They came together at that point, one afternoon, and as they walked toward the bank of the river saw a twinkle in the grass. Matthias had dived forward, but Roberto had already guessed what she would find.

  At the point where Christine had fallen, after having freed herself from Daniel, as a strong and loving hug goodbye waiting for them the gold necklace of Simona.

  EPILOGUE

  I know looked absently at the small photographs with closeups of Simon and Christina, both smiling on days dominated by the normality of everyday life. Life of a few weeks before, and yet so distant and different. Life when his daughter and his nephew were buried under two meters of earth and remember the world from a photograph, a name and two dates on a stone tablet. Their similarity in those images was surprising.

  Olga had taken the afternoon off, or rather was forced to do so by Roberto, who had assured her he appreciated her dedication to work and above all devotion to family, especially in a tragic period as they had lived, but that it was right that we take a break. Only half a day. He would take his place and he was accompanying his mother-in-law. Too bad, the very last moment, he had built an unspecified sudden engagement and had delegated the task to his mother, Gisella.

  She was lodged in the apartment of Isa, had dismissed Olga obtains the baton and tried from the very first time to make nice and make conversation with her consuocera, although he seemed ripiombata dumbness in the previous weeks. He tried to touch on topics other than those which his mind was mulling over all the time but inevitably to despair and to melt into tears at the recent loss of his niece and absurd. He could not make sense of why he had led Cristina to take his own life and, as far as I knew, not even Robert had never had any warning, the fact that it was reasonable to think that the untimely death of Simon had represented an obstacle for the poor girl insurmountable.

  The truth was quite different and worse, but Robert had decided to keep to herself and take her to the grave. One day he tried to touch the topic with Isa, in private, but had obtained no attention, let alone answers, so he gave up, convinced that his mother-in-law was now more dead than there ... or that he decided to fake it, very likely, especially considering that Olga had confessed that during his last meeting with Cristina, Isa had found the word. But ultimately it made no difference.

  At the end Gisella had proposed to Isa to visit the cemetery, home to their husbands and, unfortunately, their girlfriends. Finding no answers, he took the silence as consent, because the company do to Isa was proving much more difficult than he had believed and had no intention of spending the whole afternoon in silence in front of the TV. Not even the most useless bore them with unnecessary transmissions afternoon and guests, always spend time in discussions and pleasant cries, oblivious to the tragedies that could happen in the real world.

  Isa was alone before the tomb of Simon and Cristina, while Gisella had gone to fill a water container for flowers. He was away for some minutes and was probably engaged in conversation with an acquaintance met the entrance. In Isa did not mind: sitting on his wheelchair, his legs wrapped in a light wool blanket despite the heat, savoring the silence and tranquility of the moment, thinking.

  He felt the desire to cry, and if he did would not have been more but for sadness to anger. None of them had wanted to listen to her, as if his old age and his care were a symptom of ignorance, instead of wisdom and experience. Had gone on their way, pursuing a crazy project, definitely moved from a basic idea right, but still crazy. Both had experienced the power against which they wanted to get and Cristina had even fingered hand the consequences reserved for those who attempted the rebellion, but was not enough. She was cruel and alien to itself in thinking that if they were sought and somehow deserved, but the conviction was precisely that.

  Beneath the anger he hid a strong sense of guilt. She was sure that an important role was played by his words, the weakness that had led her to tell the truth to Simon at the last moment, after resisting for years. Foolishly thought he could rely on the maturity of his daughter, but had been the decisive misstep. Simon was ready to explode dynamite and the fuse was very short and the words of Isa had been the spark that was searching for some time.

  If only they had come to a solution! But Isa was sure that even the death of Christina, the interruption of the line, had defeated him . Somewhere in the world, one day a handsome young man had opened up and charmed unsuspecting girl and the nightmare would again. So what was served at the sacrifice of two young women? If only you had stopped to think of those simple concepts, instead of marching straight on their way with blinkers indignation and illusion!

  A reflection dark frame appeared on the polished brass oval Simona contornava photography. Isa had the strong feeling that someone was found behind her. He had heard no step, and it could not be Gisella, who was silent a second blessing. But he did not need to g
uess: he knew perfectly well who had come to see.

  "What do you want from me?" He asked through clenched teeth, without turning. "I've already taken everything away?"

  "I have come to reward you," replied the man who identified with Francesco Isa. He recognized the voice, although he was hoarse, as abbruttita from old age. If you were turned and she looked, she would be facing a man who could prove one hundred and fifty, visibly suffering and no one could give more than a few days of life. Wrapped in his filthy robe, revealing he watched quietly and still found the strength to smile with cruelty.

  "I did everything you told me 'Isa defended himself, understanding that the reward could not be anything positive. "I respected your damn rules, even those ... new. "Her voice trembled as he spoke and thought about how she had behaved in reality. On his misstep.

  "Are you sure?" The provoked him.

  "Certainly," agreed Isa, beginning to tremble with fear, despite the rationality suggested that he had nothing to fear, not after coming over seventy and have had experiences like those that had marked his life miserable. "That night you asked me to ..."

   

  Twenty-two years earlier, on Tuesday evening of Valentine's Day, Fabrizio was at the house of Isa, ready for the first hot date with Simona. His girlfriend was a little late, and the stairs, he was apologizing.

  "I'll subitissimo, then," Simon assured him, turning back in the room. "If you take a seat across ..."

  "No thanks, I stay here, no problem" declined Fabrizio, assuming a posture of waiting with his hands in his pockets and hips slightly thrust forward. Simona holed himself in his room, while Isa returned quietly to the kitchen.

  Fabrizio followed her out of the corner of the eye. When he was sure that she could no longer hear them, took away the fake smile from her lips and put her in the kitchen itself. Isa was standing with my back and pretended to be busy at the stove, but it was clearly lost in other thoughts. "He who sees" the derided Fabrizio.

  "Do not hurt her 'Isa pleaded, her voice broken by tears and tension. "Do what you have, but vulnerability to suffer as little as possible. She is ... different, it's ... "

  "It's your daughter," he concluded. "What you all say. But you're right about one thing, she's different ... "

  "So ..." he began Isa, turned with a jerk, revived the hope that his prayers could find a case for some strange result.

  "It is' shut up!" He ordered Fabrizio, wasted all his dreams in a tone that brooked no argument. "Simon is different from you and those before you. I read about her a fighting spirit that I have never found anywhere else. Could create me problems and you do not agree that this happens. "

  "But I tell you all, explain what happens to those who try to ..."

  "You know well the rules," said Fabrizio.

  "Yes, but ..."

  "For you there's a new" informed.

  Isa was speechless and felt faint. He had spent years of fear and anxiety awaiting the day when her daughter would become the victim of their sad fate, and must prepare to endure further pain. Because of course, anything would tell Fabrizio, would not be pleased. And since he held the reins, he could do nothing to oppose his will.

  "It does not tell anything. There needs to know the truth. Never. "

  "But how ...? What I will tell you when ... "

  "It's your business. Simon must not know, because it would try to stop definitely. And, as I repeat, would not be good neither for you nor for her. "

  "I ... I ... "Isa gasped, looking down and shaking his head, his lower lip trembled uncontrollably.

  "Now silence is coming" said Fabrizio, and starting to smile back at the entrance, ready to receive his beautiful and complete the project that evening.

   

  "Have not I done everything you asked for?" Said Isa, the cemetery.

  "Come on, think well," suggested he . The irony in his voice was the most terrifying aspect that Isa was the attitude of a madman who had nothing to lose and was ready for anything. Without scruples, if ever a being like that had occurred.

  "I ..." she stammered, conscious that it was useless to continue to do the fake dumb. "It was when the thing was done, he could not ..."

  "Simon would not have known anything. Never. "

  "But .. You are logged in with Christine, did you see from Simona and what could ... How do I .... "

  "Let's say you've tested."

  "I have deceived. But I respected the rules, because at that point, Christina had already ... was already pregnant, it was all written, the truth could no longer influence ... and then I tried in every way to stop Simon, to make her understand that she could do ... "

  "If you had not spoken we would not be at this point. Simon and Cristina would still be alive, I would not be here. "He paused, savoring the tears of Isa as a delicious nectar. His whole existence, or nonexistence, was dedicated to causing suffering and even then could not help but enjoy it. "You have not obeyed the rules. You killed your daughter and your granddaughter. "

  "NO!" Cried Isa, angry, explosive bursting into tears, tears that kept spurgarono for weeks and the pain he felt for the loss of loved ones and anger at the absurdity of their destiny and their impotence in the face the entity that wrote it for centuries.

  "Now you have what you deserve" said he, coming back in his wheelchair, his hands resting them behind. The fingers were so long that Isa heard her reach the top of the breasts.

  "I have nothing to fear," responded, finding a bit 'of attitude and trying to control fear. Soon everything would be over. Forever. "Death is only a liberation."

  The figure behind her stretched lips to show the last of his rotten smiles. "Who told you that you will be lucky enough to die?"

  When Isa Gisella found dead in his wheelchair, his head bent forward as if he were sleeping, she gave a cry that broke the stillness of the cemetery.

  That was too much.

   

  At Isa only tried a lot of confusion, a feeling of vertigo as if they had spun in circles for hours. Then came the perception of a lack of balance, he felt like that sometimes when falling asleep, she seemed to be on the verge of falling out of bed and reacted with a jerk convulsively. How many times had scared her husband in those moments.

  A moment later he realized what was happening, however absurd. Someone was carrying, carrying with him, against his will. But he was not on the shoulders of another person, nor had any other type of physical contact.

  It was inside .

  She was conscious of his individuality, he thought with his mind and elaborated the images that came from his eyes, which at that time they were seeing a bunch of keys on a wooden table looking family. Isa was, but he was trapped in an alien body, passive spectator of someone else's life. The brain sent an impulse to scream, but there were no nerves that could transmit the signal to the muscles.

  The picture changed in front of her, leaving them items that they found matches in his memory: his guest was in the living room of the house of his daughter Simona. They were moving toward the door that went into the garage, with the tinkling of the keys that had just recovered to mark each step. They stopped just before going out and turned toward the mirror on the wall. The woman was sharing her body with Isa settled casually bangs.

  It was Simon.

  Isa was struck by a terrible suspicion. Fragments of memories surfaced: the cemetery, the rules, the promise of death, or rather, undead. He had given it to an end in that situation. What was still in Serbia? What did it prove?

  Simon opened the door, then turned to lock it. The sudden movement of the head caused a violent nausea Isa, who wondered how he could feel the physical sensations while being thought or soul, if he wanted to call it in another way.

  When they entered they found fresh in the car and it was not just a fortune, considering how hot it was outside. Simon started and appeared on the digital display time and date. It was 24:37 on 30 June 2006.

  Isa had no doubts and prepared for the worst, knowing that he c
ould not do anything: those few minutes from spectator parasite were sufficient to show her that she could share the physical sensations of his daughter, but could not in any way influence their actions and thoughts.

  The car left the garage and walked up the short driveway in front of the house. Simon opened the electric gate with remote control and immise trafficking of the state, taking advantage of the red light right in front of the house, which forced the cars to slow to jump on the bandwagon. At the green, left again at a moderate speed, direct the elementary school in the center, information that Isa did not need to recover in the mind of Simon, because he knew the story well. In spite of himself.

  Traveled perhaps three hundred yards before it happened. Isa perceived it as a rush of air outside the passenger compartment, similar to what one experiences driving in very windy days, when it seems that the rush of air can drift off the car. The feeling was confirmed by an event infinitely more strange: the cars the cars in front and those who were traveling in the oncoming lane lost consistency to a vanishing point, vanishing into thin air. Simona shifted his gaze out the window side, then up into the rearview mirror.

  It was then that she saw him.

  Fabrizio was sitting in the backseat. The was devoting one of his best smiles. He winked, and raised her eyebrows, while Simon, who jumped in fright and almost losing control of her car, she lifted a foot to press it with all his might on the brake. But hardly had time to complete his project, bringing the gaze to the road, he saw a child, an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes right in the middle of the road. He would certainly invested, would not have had time to even avoid braking sharply, would pulped, unless ...

  Simon closed his eyes and suddenly swerved to the right. The wheels squeaked on the asphalt of the car and the car ended up at great speed, a speed higher than that Simon was actually traveling in the ditch that ran alongside the road. The bonnet crumpled like a toy car race when he touched the ground, and Simon was thrown violently against the windshield.