Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch

by Stefano Pastor

  Tom Thumb again shut my mouth with one hand, but there was no need for that, that terrible voice frightened me completely.

  Then he went to the edge of the cave, to spy, and I followed him.

  The Orc was not far from us, but he was not aware that we were in that cave. In the woods, in the air open, he could not smell our smell, mixed with thousand others.

  He leaned on a stone to take some rest, because he seemed exhausted, perhaps because of all the wine he had drunk. «My daughters!», he yelled. «What did you do to me? My poor wife, she cannot calm herself down! But I will find you, and you will pay for this!».

  I started feeling awful. I thought of Brigitte.

  «They were beautiful girls!», he cried. «They did not deserve this! I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you all!».

  I still did not understand what happened, but I was sure about one thing: I will never see Brigitte again. I felt a tear slipping over my cheek.

  «Monsters! Monsieur!», yelled Orc, as he lay on a stone. «My daughters, my daughters, what have I done to you?».

  We heard him cry and sob for a long time, then his laments started to fade and finally ceased. Soon we heard him snoring again.

  Tom Thumb slipped out of the cave before I could stop him. «What do you want to do?».

  He looked at me for a moment. «Sttt».

  What else does this crazy boy has in mind? I threw myself behind him.

  When I reached the open space, I was shocked. He was trying to remove Orc’s boots while he was sleeping

  «Give me a hand!», he said.

  «Why?», I asked.

  «So he can not follow us».

  Yes, it was logical, I could understand it. But as usual he was overdoing things. «They are magic boots! The seven-legged boots! With a single step they allow you to ride a mountain!».

  «Stop it!», I whispered. «Stop lying all the time! Stop inventing things!». Then I could not resist and I asked again, «What happened? What about Brigitte?».

  I thought he would not answer me, but he did, even though he did not dare to look me in the eye. «He has killed them all».

  I groaned.

  He continued: «Would you have preferred it to be to us?».

  Yes, very much. I would have been happy to give my life to that beautiful little girl. I already knew that I would never meet someone like her, all my life.

  Tom Thumb fell to the ground, together with the boot in his hand, and hastily started removing the second one. The Orc seemed harmless as he was deeply asleep.

  «Why did you do it?», I asked. «Why Brigitte? What did you have against her?».

  Did he do it for me, why does he hate me? Did he want to make me suffer? There has to be another way, I was certain, it did not have to end like that!

  Tom Thumb also pulled out the second boot and put it under his arm. Then he reached me. «I’m leaving, Pierrot», he said. «I’m going away».

  «What?», I was astonished. «But we have to go home…».

  «I do not go back to that house», he said angrily. «They do not want me! They do not love me, nor they have ever loved me!».

  «But… you are just a boy… what will you do?».

  He smiled, and his eyes glittered. «Hurry up to leave before the Orc wakes up. Try to get away as much as possible».

  «Dad Mom…».

  He just shook his head and then he turned left.

  He disappeared into the woods and that was the last time I saw him.

  We returned home to mom and dad, and it was not easy, but in the end we succeeded. They welcomed us with open arms, like the first time.

  This time things got a bit better, as there was one less mouth to feed, even though it was so small. There was more work, and Dad took me with him to use some help. He said he needed me. Maybe he will not abandon us anymore. I want to believe it. I have to believe it.

  And Tom Thumb? Oh, how many stories I heard about him! The only thing I know with certainty is that he returned back to Orc’s house while he was still looking for us. He told his wife, who was desperate because of the death of her daughters, that the gangsters had kidnapped her husband and demanded a ransom. He took the money himself.

  They also say that he has become a great messenger at King’s orders because of his magic boots and that he is rich and respected. They say that one day he will come back and make us rich. But I do not believe it.

  It was a farewell what I saw in his eyes. And perhaps he was right, in this house no one ever loved him or believed in him.

  I hope he never comes back again, I could not bear it. That bloody liar destroyed my life.

  Every passing day I always have Brigitte in front of my eyes, I cannot forget her. I miss her, I miss her a lot.

  Yes, I hope he never comes back again.

  January 2010

  HIERARCHY

  Translation by Cinzia Albanese

  To the mother:

  «Mum, I can explain everything».

  «Not to me, my dear. I don’t look after those things, you have to tell your father».

  «But…».

  «I only take care of the house and to keep you all in order. Some thins your dad takes care of».

  «Yes, but…».

  «Go, go to your father, don’t worry».

  To the Father:

  «You did What?».

  «I’m so sorry».

  «No, don’t worry. It’s that you really upset me, you know?».

  «What do I do now, dad?».

  «Do? You asking me? Didn’t you tell your mother?».

  «She said you are the one who deals with these things».

  «Yes, but this is too much for me. It would be better to get someone more adapted than me to advise you».

  «Who?».

  From the Priest:

  «Yes dear, these are things that happen. But I don’t understand why you came here. Deep down it’s not a sin».

  «My father was sure that you could advise me».

  «Me? Well of course, we are here for that. But don’t you think it might be better for someone with…».

  «Who, father?».

  To the Teacher:

  «I think it’s more of a family matter. And should compete against those who should have educated you».

  «Am I wrong then?».

  «I can’t tell you this. What do you parents think».

  «They are not taking a stand».

  «Wrong, Wrong. And you don’t have anyone else to turn to?».

  To the Grandmother:

  «What’s wrong? Why are you so sad?».

  «I think I’ve done something horrible grandma, Mum and dad are not…».

  «Oh dear, but are you feeling ok? You sound strange».

  «No, it’s that…».

  «Let me see that tongue! Argh! What have you done! What’s that horror?».

  «A piercing, grandma».

  «What is it? You have a hole in your tongue! And there’s a stick and ball attacked to it! Take it off right away! Immediately!».

  «But…».

  «Oh, you see, now that’s better! So, what did you want to tell me?».

  September 2010

  ILLUSION

  PLOT AND FIRST CHAPTERS

  OF THE BEST BOOKS

  ONE

  Thriller-Fantasy Novel

  PLOT

  I’m one. Although I’ve got six bodies, although I live six different lives. I always was one, in each of my multiple lives, since the beginning. Separated in every continent, my bodies never met. No one knows my secret, no one could suspect it. Yet it had a beginning: someone is killing my bodies. In every part of the world. Someone is trying to extinguish me, to take me down. I don’t know who might wish for my death. I don’t know why. I don’t know who to trust, who to ask for help. I’m trapped in a spiral of terror, but I don’t know how to stop this bloodbath. I don’t know how to survive. Help me!

  EXTRACT

  I’m…

  His hand was
fragile and light, like a little bird’s wing. The moment had arrived, life was to abandon her. The two of us on our own, in that hospital room, with a monitor and a drip-feed between us.

  I had told her goodbye, and I had done so more than two days earlier. Laura had died then, and we exchanged a final kiss. It had been her choice, because she didn’t want to suffer anymore. Thus the doctors had made her fall in a medically induced coma, a long sleep from which she would never awake anymore.

  I was watching over her body, a skeletal chubby body which had lost its beauty. And I still could not come to terms with it. I recalled her full of strength and life, a perfect porcelain doll, as she had been until a few weeks earlier.

  I had loved her a lot, I truly had!

  Two weeks had been enough to kill a complete life.

  Two weeks earlier…

  I’m

  Marcello DeRenzi

  I was thirty-six years old and I was a financial expert, as my family had been for generations. Bankers, industrialists, politicians, a series of eminent ancestors.

  My wife came from the Valmonte family. Laura Valmonte. Her past was an eminent one, too. Among her ancestors was a queen, during Napoleon’s times. Her grandfather was a Romanoff’s relative, Russia’s last imperial family.

  However our lives were not made of past glories. Laura was intelligent, smart, sharp and beautiful. I had married her for love, and I was certain she had done the same. Together we had become a financial power, but it had only been a chance of our fates.

  Yet it was true, our two fortunes combined with each other’s put us above many others, and gave us a security which no one could ever scratch, or at least that’s what we believed back then.

  We had been married for eight years, and our life had always been happy, with no kind of shadows. We were a perfect couple, and we could understand each other with a glance. But we were very busy, too much indeed. I was busy with my company, whereas she was busy with her multiple activities, and even when we were together we could hardly find some time for us, as we were involved with our lives.

  That morning we were having breakfast. We sat each in front of the other, yet separated by our very long table. Our maids served us flawlessly and making no noise. A background music came from far away. I read the newspaper as I sipped my tea.

  Laura sent the maids away with a wave of her hand and as soon as we were alone she began talking.

  «Marcello, I must tell you something. Something important».

  Her tone had been colloquial, with no emphasis, and I answered with as much carelessly as I barely shifted my glance away from the stock quotes.

  «Yes, dearie. Tell me».

  She dropped the bomb.

  «I’m dying. I don’t think I’m going to live much longer».

  I stared at her and I did not know what to say. She was so calm, and her behavior seemed to deny what she had just said. Then I realized it was not like that, and she harbored something else behind her mask, a volcano ready to explode. I knew Laura very well and I knew she would never joke about such things. I inspected her face, looking for exterior signs of a disease, but I found nothing.

  «Are you ill?», I asked her. «What’s the matter?».

  «Cancer», she immediately answered, without going into detail. «I haven’t got a long time left. A month at best».

  I shook my head, because I could not accept it. The denial came, immediately, and I already was about to make her the most common questions you hear in these circumstances: was she certain about it, had she heard other doctors’ opinion? Then I recalled who Laura was, how she had always fought for her life, as if she had imposed to herself never to bend her head in front of anything. And I understood I truly was going to lose her.

  I wanted to stand up, run to her, but I couldn’t. Then I tried to speak and hide my fear.

  «How long have you known that?».

  She didn’t even try to lie.

  «Eight months».

  I made a long breath and almost felt a physical pain. Eight months on her own, fighting her illness, without me. How could she hide that?

  «Did you…».

  She interrupted me: «I did everything, whatever was humanly possible. I already had three operations, and the chemo works no more».

  It was not possible. Had we separated so far? How could she bear such an ordeal without making me realize about her state? I recalled she had been away for a couple of weeks in spring and payed a visit to her sister. Before that, in February or March she had been to a convention of some kind. When had we made sex the last time? And when had we made it with the lights on?

  Still, it was terrible that I never noticed, almost monstrous.

  «You said nothing, nothing!».

  «And I would still tell you nothing if it was possible. I wanted no one to know it, not even you. But things did not go the way I wanted, and I will soon have to enter in the clinic. I can’t avoid it anymore. I don’t think I’ll ever get out of it».

  I tried to stand up to reach her, but her gaze kept me stuck on the chair.

  «Don’t do it! I don’t want your pity! I want nobody’s pity!».

  «It’s not pity», I murmured. «I love you».

  «I know, it’s not pity yet. But it will be. Soon we’ll only have that».

  «Laura…».

  Her gaze stuck me on the chair again.

  «Not now. I don’t feel like talking. I already said too much, and it’s hard for me. This evening. We’re going to talk this evening, when you come back».

  «How foolish!», I uttered. «Do I look like I give a damn about the administration council? We’ll postpone our meeting, a phone call is enough! I’m not going to leave you alone».

  «I demand so», she answered back. «I’ve got so many things to end before the recovery. I don’t to go with loose ends on my part».

  «But…».

  «There’s nothing to say, Marcello. That’s it. You can’t do anything to change what’s going on, and talking about it is of no help to me. Not now, I’m not ready yet».

  It was her, but at the same time it was not her anymore. Yes, Laura had always been rigid, but not so distant. Now she was different, her illness had taken her away from me. A bridge had risen between us, between dead and living beings, perhaps it had been so for a long time and I had not even noticed.

  I stood up, but she stood up as well. She tried to escape me, moving back to the entryway, she did not want me to touch her. How could she think eight years of love were just pity? How could she believe I stopped loving her just because she was ill? I tried to approach her anyway, but she reached out her hands and stopped me.

  «No! Not now! I can’t do it, not now!».

  «When, then? We’ve got so little time left!».

  She shook her head. «Go away! They’re waiting for you, go away!».

  «Why are you doing this to me? Don’t you believe I’m suffering?».

  Her bitter smile upset me.

  «You’re going to live. I will die and you’ll keep living. No, you can’t understand what it means».

  She walked out of the room as she said these words.

  I was too astonished to follow her.

  Was there a mistake? A point where our lives had separated and I hadn’t noticed? No, I was certain it was not like that. Our love was the same, and there had always been full freedom, mutual respect of our spaces between us. Laura had her life and her activities. We did many things together, and we didn’t do others. It had always been that way and the thing had never disturbed us.

  Her illness had taken her away from me. It had led her through another dimension, separating her from me. It had changed her, it had made her know new emotions: fear, desperation, loneliness. What could I do? How could I penetrate the freezing castle where she had locked herself?

  Laura did not want to die, not so young, not at the peak of her success. She could not accept it and I understood her. I understood death itself did not scare her, but her il
lness, her slow deterioration, her suffering did. The terror of not being self-sufficient and being dependent from others. Why not, pity scared her as well.

  I had met death in the past, so many times that I almost was resigned. This did not lessen my love for Laura, I would have done everything not to lose her, yet I could not mislead myself about the future. But there would be no pity. Never, no matter what. There would not be.

  In my office at the last floor I could see the city in front of me, through the big locked glass wall which were never open. The room was soundproofed and no noise came to me from the street underneath. I could only see them, thousands and thousands of working ants, who were born, lived and died. Humanity.

  «They’re waiting for us», Franzi said as he entered.

  He was my right arm, the vice president, he did not bother to let others announce him. He carried a bundle of folders, unconcerned about the fact that there were tons of assistants for those tasks. He threw one on the desk, in front of me.

  «Have a look at it. At least pretend you know what we’re talking about! Don’t make me do everything!».

  I looked at the folder as if it was a roach, and Franzi frowned.

  «What’s the matter? Anything wrong?».

  He was not the right man for the task, he had no sturdiness nor charisma. He was too old and fat, and was always sweaty despite the air conditioning. And he was technical, boring, excessively punctilious. No one else would have chosen him, but I knew he was the man I needed, the one who could run the company without exalting. That was his task. Even though I was the president decisions were up to him.

  I picked the folder up but did not open it.

  «You’ll tell me everything as we go».

  Franzi made a resigned gesture. «Listen to me! Please, listen to me!».

  I’m

  Jung Park

  I was forty-three years old and I was a farmer. My father had been one before me, and so had been my grandfather and every ancestor I could recall of. I grew rice, just rice. I still did it in the traditional way, because I had always abhorred modern contraptions. I loved my job, because it gave me a lot of satisfactions.

  For twenty years I had been married with Minji. We had three children together and she worked the fields with me. Our farm was small and we only had an workman to help us. Cholsu had actually become part of our family. He had never been a rather smart guy and had always lived with his mother until she died. After that he let himself go, because he could not maintain himself. He was some kind of vagabond, mocked by everyone because of his scarce intelligence, until he had landed there. I had been hit by his innocent look, his eternal childish face, and I had let him occupy the hut, then I had even offered him a job. He had been living with us for ten years. My children liked him.