The Prison

by Stefano Pastor

  “Poor woman my foot! You don’t realize it, but my bedroom is just beside hers. You should hear what noises come from the beyond the wall, it’s like a horror house.”

  “Stop it! Always criticizing everyone! Follow your brother’s footsteps instead.”

  “That madman? What are you talking about, mom? Everybody knows he’s as out of his mind as Eleonora! He became the neighborhood’s joke!”

  “Apologize to him right now!, the woman shouted.

  “It doesn’t matter, mom”, said Cricket. “I don’t even listen to her.”

  In that moment, a terrified scream came from outside. The dvd Cricket had in his hands fell and broke in a thousand pieces.

  “What did you do?”

  “Don’t shout like that, Cricket, it was the right thing.”

  Cricket was literally tearing his hair out. He’d immediately gone to see what had happen and he’d found the door wide open. And the cage empty.

  Eleonora was grateful to that boy, the son of her neighbors, that had helped her so much with Little Mouse. At the beginning, she’d not been happy that he taught him to speak, but now she’d changed her mind. After all he was the only real friend Little Mouse had ever had.

  “Do you understand what you did? They’ll kill him, they’ll tear him to pieces!”

  He didn’t even contemplate that Little Mouse would hurt anybody, he could eat whoever he wanted, first of all his sister.

  “Don’t exaggerate, Cricket. He needed to be free.”

  “Free, not dead!”

  “He’s dying!”

  Silence. Finally, she had softened the kid’s anger.

  “He’s dying anyway. His time has come. He’s too old already, he won’t last long. It’s fair that he gets to see the world.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “No swear words, please. And stop teaching them to Little Mouse. You know I don’t like it.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”, he shouted louder.

  Eleonora sighed. “Mice live for three years at most, and he went further than that.”

  “Is that all? Did you throw him out of the house just for that? Does he look like a mouse to you? A normal mouse? There are no others like him, we don’t have the slightest idea how long he’ll live!” He changed his mind and went back to tearing his hair out. “What am I saying, he could already be dead, and it’s all my fault!”

  “You didn’t notice, but he changed, really. He’s losing all his hair, he’s not the same anymore. He’s old.”

  And it was possible too, it was always dark inside the cage. Little Mouse didn’t care, or rather, he preferred it. He’d been keeping himself away for a long time.

  “Is he sick?”

  “Yes, he’s sick. He’s dying and we’ve kept him inside that cage all his life. He has the right to see what’s out there.”

  “Where did he go?”

  Eleonora sighed and slumped in a chair.

  “To see the sunset.”

  Cricket had shown him many movies, read him books (a few), told him a lot of thing. Little Mouse could say he knew the world a bit.

  What he had in front of him must be stairs. They were used to go up or down. He needed to go up, yes. Like King Kong. Go up, on the top.

  The stairs were tight, he could barely pass. It was also a bit uncomfortable, the steps were too short, he had to jump. Who knew how far was the top. King Kong’s house was very tall. He’s gone up from the outside, but Little Mouse doubted he could do it. Would he be able to see the sunset up there?

  A person, a woman, was coming out of her apartment, and she saw him. She let out a frightful scream, just like the people who met King Kong. Little Mouse wasn’t surprised, not even grieved. By now he understood, he was resigned. He would have liked to talk to her, but she’d already locked herself inside.

  He kept climbing.

  It wasn’t a skyscraper, just a four-story building, so Little Mouse was quick to reach the top. He had to open a door closed with a key, but that wasn’t a great problem because it was so fragile.

  It wasn’t a roof, it looked more like a big terrace. He looked around, but there was no sunset. The buildings around were all taller and blocked the visual. Little Mouse sighed, resigned. Cricket was right, the outside world would disappoint him.

  He reached the edge of the roof and looked down.

  Now the planes would come, the helicopters, they would fire at him, launch missiles, and he, struck to death, would fallen down the building, crashing to the ground.

  Yes, the end was waiting for him, the end of everything.

  “Get away from the edge right now!”

  Where they there already? No, it was Cricket’s voice.

  “I can’t see the sunset”, he said.

  “You’ll see it another time. Now get away from there and let’s go back home, before somebody sees you.”

  “They’ve already seen me.”

  “That madwoman? Nobody will believe her. Last week she called the firefighters because she saw the aliens. We’ve still got time to fix everything.”

  Cricket was sad, he could see that. Cricket was suffering, and Little Mouse was sorry about it, but he was so tired. He had to understand that he had to let him go.

  “What do you want to do, then?”

  “Be free.”

  “Free to do what? To walk around the streets? Everyone would run away screaming!”

  “You never did.”

  “I…”

  “I can’t, don’t you understand? I can’t.”

  Cricket didn’t want to lock him in a cage, but he didn’t know what else to do. Eleonora had gone completely crazy, Little Mouse had only him now.

  Eleonora was right about something, though: Little Mouse had changed. He was losing his hair in pieces, he was hunchbacked. Even his ears were strange, almost transparent, you could see the veins crossing them.

  “Are you dying?”

  “I don’t know what dying means. You explained it to me, but I didn’t understand it very well.”

  “Not being here anymore. Going away. Leaving us.”

  “Yes, I’m dying.”

  Cricket sobbed.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I…I…”

  “I’d like to see all that you’ve told me about. Is that ok? You tell me if that’s ok. If you want I’ll come down and get back in the cage. Your choice.”

  “Can I… can I stay here, until you leave?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Cricket sat down beside him and the giant mouse leaned beside him.

  “Are you tired?”

  “I feel weird, so weird.”

  “Do you feel pain?”

  “It’s something I can’t explain. Yes, I feel pain too.”

  “Is it our fault?”

  “No, no, I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t want you to die.”

  “Tell me about the sunset.”

  “It’s starting now. But you can’t see it from here.”

  “Tell me about it anyway.”

  “It’s…it’s…”

  Cricket burst into tears.

  “No, you don’t have to…”, Little Mouse started to say, but a stabbing pain struck his shoulders. Then more, one after the other, in every part of his body. Were they shooting him? Were those missiles? Was that death?

  “What’s wrong?”, Cricket was shouting. “Are you sick? What’s happening to you?”

  His eyes were blurred, everything was more and more confused, he could no longer see. Was that death too, darkness?

  Little Mouse’s body was writhing. Cricket jumped up screaming: “What should I do?”

  He didn’t care, he would have liked to tell him, he would have liked to thank him for all he’d done for him. Thank him and Eleonora. Now he would be alright, he was sure of it, it would be over soon.

  Little Mouse’s body was spasming, his paws agitating, muscles flickering, continually con
tracting. Cricket felt awful, it wasn’t the death he expected. This was too horrible.

  Then Little Mouse gave a last rattle, and his body shivered.

  He was motionless. It was over. He was dead.

  Cricked dropped to his knees, sobbing, and he couldn’t stop crying. Little Mouse’s eyes were not red anymore but vitreous, completely blind.

  Then there was a movement, and he startled.

  Another movement and a wing distended right above his head. A gigantic wing, membranous, going out from Little Mouse’s body. Cricket screamed and run back.

  Little Mouse’s body had a shudder, then it got up slightly. Another wing distended, similar to the first one.

  He was changed, he’d lost almost all his hair. Now his ears were much bigger and on the paws, there were claws.

  “Little Mouse?” he asked, scared.

  There were no colors, but there were sounds, and the sounds were much more beautiful than anything Cricket had told him. Even Cricket was different, now. He had another consistency, more complete, three-dimensional. Even if his eyes could not see anymore, the world had never felt more real.

  He flapped his wings, and it felt natural to have them. It gave him a great pleasure.

  “Little Mouse? Is that you, Little Mouse? Are you still the same? Are you…a bat?”

  Bat, what a strange word, what an obsession it was to name everything. He didn’t know what he was, neither did Cricket, but that didn’t matter.

  He flapped his wings, because he needed to. To go away. To be free. To fly.

  “Little Mouse? Are you going away?”

  He would have liked to calm him down, but he couldn’t, many things he had lost in the transformation, and the gift of word was among them. But many more he had gained. Who knows, maybe one day he would teach Cricket his language. A language not made of words but of thoughts. A total union, that he would appreciate.

  But not now. Now he just needed to fly, to be free.

  He soared, and Cricket was almost pushed away by the movement of his wings.

  Then up, beyond the palace, to watch the sunset. It was beautiful, even without the colors, but he could still imagine them. A dark rose turning into orange, violet streaks and a blue background.

  The immensity of what surrounded him overwhelmed him, and he finally understood what the world was.

  June 2011

  ITSY BITSY SPIDER

  Translation by Alessia

  The village is almost completely desolated.

  Signs of recent bombings are still evident on the front of the church. The cracks on the wall recall bleeding wounds and allow to see an altar which is only illuminated by other holes in the walls. If once there were colorful windows, they must have been destroyed long ago.

  The surrounding houses are precarious, definitely condemned. The head quarter has been set up in the school. Every house has been searched, but almost all the inhabitants have disappeared. The captain knows they are all rebels, rebels’ relatives or at least their supporters. In that area, they are all rebels. They found just rebels, no one else. They have been following them, chasing them and finally they caught them one by one.

  They bring them there, in front of the church, as it has been ordered by the captain. They are just children but that does not matter. In this war – even though no one likes to call it like that – kids are as dangerous as men, they are future enemies: they will grow and they will kill.

  There is four of them approaching the church, accompanied by soldiers that point a machine gun at their heads. They walk in line: they are dirty, ragged and bleeding. The youngest one, not older than six, is leading the line; the others are following in order of height. The oldest one must be eight.

  The captain stares at them, completely ruthless. It’s not the first time he sees children dying, not even the first time he kills some.

  The lieutenant moves forward and joins the captain, while the rest of the squad brings the children to the wall.

  The captain nods.

  The lieutenant turns his back to the church: in front of him just the main square of the village where there’s only an empty fountain, at this point covered in weed. The center is dominated by an anachronistic sculpture of a mermaid from where all the main streets branch off. Further, the surrounding mountains are visible.

  The lieutenant screams and his voice thunder in the silent square, so loud to be heard from far away. A cold and ruthless voice. “If you don’t give up immediately, we will execute the four rebels!” Pause. “You’ve got three minutes to come forward!”

  Is there really an enemy? Oh yeah. They have been assaulting and killing them. But, have they ever met him? The captain wouldn’t know either. Everything is abandoned, and the few they managed to capture are like these four kids. Then, are they the enemy? It might be. It happened already. One lack of attention and a kid, a pregnant woman and even an old lady brought death and destruction within them.

  It’s better not to trust anyone as everyone could be the enemy. No more time for pity.

  What were those kids doing in here? Are they with the enemy? Are they the enemy? Or they must have forgotten them, maybe they are alone, raiding the abandoned village.

  They bring them in front of the wall of the church and there, they make them kneel with a hand on their shoulder. They make them move back and forward, in order to have a perfect line.

  Yes, order opposed to the chaos that is crushing the whole world. Order is necessary, it motivates everything.

  The captain was a teacher before everything started. He can hardly remember about it.

  He was teaching philosophy in universities and had always tried to identify the order within the chaos, an answer to everything.

  He moves closer to the kids, walking in front of them and he observes them. The youngest one is sobbing; the others are simply staring at the floor. Are they scared? Are they full of hanger? Or hate? If only they could, would they kill them?

  The last one, the oldest, wears a sort of military shirt, dirty and greasy, with two big pockets on the chest and, also, a bit too large for him. He keeps reaching one of the pockets with his hand.

  The captain is unsure and, referring to the armed soldier behind the kid, he asks: “Did you search them?”

  He promptly answers: “They were clean, Sir! No weapons!”

  He moves again and stops in front of the kid.

  The kid looks at him with a calm look. His face is filthy and is difficult to understand what’s under all that dirt. He has big black eyes.

  “What’s in your pocket?”

  Surprisingly the kid answers: “My spider, Sir.”

  The captain hardly believes him; if he had a spider in his pocket at this point it should be dead.

  The kid raises his hand again and offers to show the spider to the captain.

  He moves his hand to his pocket and immediately the soldier behind him points the machine gun towards his head.

  The captain stops him with a nervous movement.

  The kid puts the hand in his pocket and promptly takes it out. He shows his palm to the captain: there’s a small spider in his hand; just a tiny, little spider that usually infest our houses, one of those with long and thin legs.

  The kid brings his hand closer to the captain’s and tells him: “You should keep it.”

  Surprised, the captain stare at the little spider. It starts to move rapidly, creates a web and jumps on the captain’s palm. He keeps staring at it.

  The itsy-bitsy spider doesn’t move, as if he was waiting for something.

  The time stands still while the captain stares at the spider and everything is silent around. Then, the lieutenant makes him jump, by reaching at his back. “Three minutes have now passed, Sir.” And he adds: “There’s no one left here.”

  But the captain doesn’t care, he just keeps staring at that spider and finds it perfect. He then answers without even looking at him: “Just bring them away.”

  The lieutenant think
s he misunderstood. “Who, sir?” Then he realizes and pointing at the kids asks: “Then?”

  The captain does not answer.

  “Bring them where?”, the lieutenant insists. “Aren’t we supposed to execute them?”

  The captain shakes his head. “Not now.”

  Then he ignores everyone, the lieutenant, the soldiers and the kids, He just keeps looking at that little spider that started walking on his hand. He then starts walking towards the school.

  The lieutenant knocks and enters the room without waiting for an answer.

  The captain is seating at the desk. In front of him just empty desks. His staring at the table, while the little spider is working at its web.

  The lieutenant clears his voice and asks: “Ehm, Sir… we were wondering if… About those prisoners…”

  The captain smiles. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  The lieutenant didn’t even notice the tiny spider, he wouldn’t notice a spider web, there’s full of them. That’s place seems abandoned for ages.

  “What do you want to do with those prisoners?”

  Silence.

  “You know better than me that there are strict regulations about not losing prisoners. Every suspect rebel needs to be executed immediately.”

  The captain seems bothered, he doesn’t feel like talking; he only needs to be alone. “I don’t have time right now. Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? What do you mean? Should we execute them tomorrow?”

  “Maybe. We’ll decide this tomorrow.”

  The lieutenant sighs. The captain looks stranger and stranger. But, after all, he understands it: it’s a terrible war, terrible actions took place.

  “Sir, I know they are just kids. But you cannot show yourself weak in front of your soldiers. Dissatisfaction dominates them and the invisible enemy made them paranoid. You have to understand that…”

  “Tomorrow”, the captain shouts.

  The lieutenant backs up and leave the room silent.

  The sun is setting.

  The little spider is weaving his web and the captains watch astonished.