Katia reappeared on the door two seconds later. “What’s this all about?”
“You go ahead; I’m staying here.”
Katia drew a long sigh. “Here where?”
“Here. This is my Chamber. It’s mine. It’s all mine.”
“This is not a Chamber! Is… whatever it is you can’t live here?”
“To me that’s okay.”
“Look, don’t be a baby, now. Why are you talking a lot of nonsense? Living here; have you gone mad! They will come, they will notice what happened. They will come in here. And after? What will you do? What are you going to say? Do you think they would let you stay here?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“But it matters to me! I thought you were smart. Is it a pique? Do you feel guilty about what happened to Max? It is he who had chosen.”
“I don’t want to live with you.”
Katia grimaced. “Ah, this is it. It is for Rocco, isn’t it? Because I called him.”
“You said it yourself that I am big enough to live alone.”
“This is not living alone; this is suicide! Do you need so much to be back to reformatory? This time they don’t give you just a couple of months.”
“Never mind, I don’t want to live with you anymore.”
“Why?”
“I want to be free.”
“I’m not giving you enough freedom? I do not seem to be an oppressive mother.”
“You can say anything you want, but it won’t change my mind. Our paths diverged from this moment.”
“Why?”
“I told you, I want to be free.”
“Free from what?”
“From you!” Nico yelled.
Katia pursed his lips and made a step forward.
“Ah, this is it. The crap that Max dumped on you. I’d be your prison.”
Nico said nothing.
“I am not a good mother, is that what you think? You don’t want me anymore?”
Nico shook his head.
“And why do you want to do, alone?”
He remained silent.
Katia’s voice grew cold. “So I have to go away and leave you free.”
Nico nodded.
“What am I supposed to do? Where would I go?”
“As far as possible,” murmured Nico.
A smile appeared on the face of Katia. “As you want. I go away, and you are free. It’s okay like that?”
Nico felt suddenly uneasy, but he forced himself to nod.
“Okay,” said Katia, and stretched her open palm in front of her. “Give me the money.”
“What money?”
“Do you wish me to go? That I go as far as possible? Well, I don’t have a dime. Give me the money.”
Nico thought quickly, then put his hand into his pocket and pulled out two folded banknotes. He handed them to the mother without saying anything.
She burst out laughing.
“Two hundred euros? I want the money! All the money you have! With these, I don’t pay anything! Would you like your freedom? You have to pay for it.”
Nico put his hand in another pocket and handed her another five hundred euros.
“That’s not enough,” said Katia. “That’s not enough. I must take them by myself.”
Nico stiffened. Not even attempted to fight while Katia searched him. She was not friendly, forced him to undress, made him take off his shoes as well. Eventually, she began to count the treasure she had found on him. Nico knew exactly the total amount: 5460 euros.
The woman smile was wicked.
“You still think I should go? Do you want to be alone?”
“Go!” yelled Nico. “Just go!”
Katia grimaced. “You won’t last a day without me. You’re going to get arrested; you can’t get away with it. But why should I care about you? It’s your choice! Suit yourself!”
She pocketed the money, and then changed her mind. She laid on the bed two hundred euros.
“So you can’t say I’m a bad mother.”
Nico saw her leave without even saying hello. Then he ran after her. He remained to cling to the door jamb watching her as she descended the ladder and went to the exit. For a moment he feared that she would slip and fall into the abyss. Instead, Katia had no trouble. The door opened easily. He saw her leave without turning to him once.
Only then he hurried back into the room and shut the door.
He did it! He had succeeded! He had escaped from his prison!
He laughed, and then he cried. In the end, he threw himself on the bed and began sobbing. It did not matter, even if it only lasted a day or a week it was the same. Now he was free, and that was his Chamber. He had something, something he owns.
And the man was wrong; you could be free. He had failed to save him, but he had saved himself. Katia would have been better off without him. They were not fit to live together; not even the love was enough, that love was destructive.
He stayed long on the bed, thinking, but couldn’t see any future ahead of him. Then he began to wander around the room, watching all the wonders he possessed. Maybe the furniture was of value; he could try to sell them, maybe he would make some money to keep going. But how to get them out of there, with the house in that condition? He would have thought.
Then he changed his mind because it wasn’t right. This was his Chamber; he couldn’t get it apart. Sell it. So he continued to walk. Inside the cabinet, there were some clothes, but they were clothes of the man, not his size. He closed it immediately.
Eventually, he came to the library. The entire world’s knowledge. They were all old and dusty books. Would they have some value? He could try to sell those, after all, so he would never read them. Was the man a collector? There were hundreds, no, thousands. Maybe he would sell just a few.
At that moment it was as if the man was still next to him. He saw his smile and heard his words again.
“I chose them personally, one by one. They are the most beautiful, the best that the human race was able to conceive. Here there is everything you could ever need.”
Here’s everything you could need.
That phrase was shocking; it had implications that Nico dared not even imagine. And yet…
He reached out and picked up a book at random. He leafed through it. Just a piece of paper slid out of the book and went to settle on the ground. Nico glared at it without having the courage to pick it up. It was a five hundred euros banknote.
Then turned the book and flipped through all pages. Other tickets fell to the ground, about 20 in all, and they were absolutely the same than the first one. He put down the book and took another. He opened that one too and once again many banknotes fell on the ground.
He glanced at the immense library before him that occupied the whole wall, up to the ceiling. Then he laughed, and after a while, the laughter turned into tears.
But it was a liberating cry; it was what he needed.
The gates of his prison were wide open.
March 2010
PORTFOLIO
PREFACE
What is a Portfolio?
It’s a collection of all the best things an 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 it 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 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? I believe it is the best way to become 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 not until…
I was a kid, then, I was ten years old, and Spike had grown up with me. Dad bought 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 seemed 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 would 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 the 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. They certainly didn’t say it 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, and he found a way into the garden.
That’s how our story begins. The 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. One of his ancestors had to be a golden retriever, because Spike looked like 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 both were 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 to 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.
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, there hadn’t been a 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 notice or at the very least, she 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 any 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 notice.
How Spike had succeeded I do not know, but there was almost no more fruit on the tree and many branches had been destroyed.
One afternoon, I personally witnessed 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 he had 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 never had any value, I never understood my mother’s fury when I accidentally broke a jar. It was inconceivable that an adult could give such a great importance to a silly flower. No, I 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, aprons that reached her feet, and 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 at him, but Spike was too clever and all of them 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 continued 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. To this day, I am sure that he understood all my words, even though, in the light of the events that followed, he didn’t listen.
“She is a witch”, I said to my mother, referring to the spinster.
She considered it a joke. “What are you saying? That is the way she is, she is not comfortable with people. But she never bothers 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 me pity him, 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 spookier at night and it attracted all my interest. The doors were not locked but there 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 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.
Because, it was evident that he hated it with all his strength and he only wanted to uproot it.
I had to enter the hole to reach him. I cautiously passed the rope around his neck.
He continued to shred those roots without even noticing me. When the improvised leash was in place, I tried to soften him and calm his fury. I petted him.
He looked at me and I swear I had never seen so much despair in my life. He recognized me, of course, and that’s why he asked for help. There it was, in his eyes, a silent plea for help.
For a moment, I considered the possibility of freeing him and letting him continue. What I really cared about was him, not the plum tree. What concerned me, was if the spinster would be angry the next day. That destroyed her as well (at the end at least, after the whole story had ended).
The Prison Page 14
