Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch

by Stefano Pastor

  They reached the centre, where there was the fountain, and Chata sat on the edge.

  The view was overwhelming from that point, Monica felt at the centre of the entire complex. Around her, she only saw shut windows and abandoned terraces. It seemed as if no one was living there.

  The old man seemed to read her mind. «Many of them haven’t left their house, in many years».

  «Why?».

  There was no reply. Strange images made their way through Monica’s mind, but she dismissed them immediately. She didn’t want to believe in such nonsense.

  Yet, for a moment she dared think about what damages the absence of death could have produced in old or sick individuals.

  «What is this place, do you know?».

  The old man made a sad smile. «The Emerald? Do you want to know what the Emerald is?».

  «Yes, do you know it? Tell me about it, please».

  «The Emerald has been built fortyfive years ago, in the mid-60s».

  «I thought it had been built thirty-five years ago».

  «No, it was fortyfive. It was built by an entrepreneur, Marzio Bruni. He was a rich man, who had built everywhere in Italy. He didn’t really care about aesthetics, he preferred easy to sell popular housing. That’s how he’d made his fortune. The Emerald was his most ambitious project. He saw it as a satellite village, an autonomous apartment block that didn’t need anyone else. He saved no expenses and he built solid palaces and, for those times, modern and equipped with every comfort. The apartments sold and sold, and he’d already sold all of them before the building was completed».

  «What happened then?».

  «Nothing happened. At least not until 1975».

  «What do you mean by ‘nothing’?».

  He made a strange smile. «Maybe I shouldn’t have explained it like that. Let’s say that life was going on as it normally does. People were born, they grew up, they married, they died». He really stressed this word.

  The time had arrived to face the subject, even if Monica didn’t really want to.

  «Then they stopped dying?».

  The old man surprised her. «Not at all, in 1975 there was carnage, so that the Emerald was nicknamed ‘Hell’».

  «What carnage?».

  «Within a month, forty-seven tenants died. It was a tragedy, there were some victims every day. The whole world talked about it. The cursed village».

  «How did they die?».

  «In the most various way. Accidents, illness, old age. At least eight of them were suicides. A couple of homicides. There was even a gunfight between criminals. The whole thing lasted a month, and when the curse was over, everyone sighed of relief».

  «What happened then?».

  «It isn’t easy to see certain things, even when they’re in front of you. It took people ten years to notice that no one was dying at the Emerald anymore. Indeed, the situation was even more serious. After that cursed month, many tenants had left and had been replaced. They shortly realised it. A couple survived a deadly car accident. A suicide woman couldn’t die, a couple of clinical cases that overturned all the rules of medicine. They all had something in common: those people lived or had lived at the Emerald. A doctor investigated, and he found other cases. Someone went as far as doing a census of whoever had lived here and tried to trace them back. The dubious cases spread like wildfire. After five years, the news arrived to the newspapers, that feasted on it. They got close to sending an exorcist here. They even had an American team specialised in paranormal searches. It was all a waste of time».

  «You can’t die at the Emerald», repeated Monica, incredulous.

  The old man sat down next to Chata. «I thought it was a good thing».

  «What do you mean?».

  «I mean that ten years ago, when I was diagnosed with this illness, I was scared. Even more so, I was terrified! A degenerative illness, which would have made me die before my time. I sold everything to be able to buy an apartment here. My mother left me, she refused to follow me, she knew all too well this place’s reputation. But I didn’t want to believe her».

  «You did it willingly? You didn’t want to die?».

  «And I didn’t die. I can’t die. I can’t do it even now when I would like to. There is no cure against the pain that is devouring me, only death. But I cannot die».

  «Have you tried to?», asked Monica, amazed. «Did you try to kill yourself?».

  «What for? Only to feel worse? Look at Chata, look at the state she’s in! That bastard had cut her throat».

  Was her own wound that serious? Monica wasn’t sure.

  Chata dismissed those talks with a hand gesture. «Don’t listen to him, he always exaggerates».

  With a tragic voice, she continued: «Death has only forgotten us, but she’ll soon realise her mistake and she’ll come take us».

  In that moment, Monica wasn’t that sure anymore that she wanted to meet her. Indeed, she realised she’d cocked-up trying to kill herself, and she started liking the fact that you couldn’t die at the Emerald. For the moment, at least.

  «No idea what can be the reason?», she asked.

  A voice arrived behind her back. «I think it’s right in front of you».

  6

  The newcomer must have been in his forties, a little older than her. He was a beefy man, with a crew cut, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and with a backpack on his shoulder. He had a piercing stare and he was handsome, too, even too handsome for Monica, who felt her heartbeats accelerate.

  The bad boy smiled, as if he’d read her mind.

  «Who are you?», asked the old man. «What are you doing here?».

  The man shrugged his shoulders. «I observe. I look around, I wait».

  The old man frowned and stood up. «Do you live here, too?».

  «Gosh no, I’d never spent more than a night under this roof».

  Edoardo got nearer, pensive. «I must have seen you somewhere else».

  «Maybe in another life. I don’t remember you».

  And yet, Edoardo did remember him, but the name eluded him. «You’ve lived here. I remember seeing you when I moved in the Emerald. You weren’t alone, you had a wife and a son, too».

  «That’s prehistory», the man commented.

  «Something happened to you. I can’t remember what, but I’m sure of it».

  «You do have a good memory! It wasn’t a very important fact. I failed. Actually, to tell you the truth, it was much worse. They accused me of fraudulent bankrupt and embezzlement. I had wanted too much and I had put to risk the money that my clients had entrusted me».

  Edoardo nodded, starting to remember. «You’ve left them on the street».

  «Let’s not exaggerate here, none of them was exactly poor. And besides, I was willing to pay, do you remember that, too?».

  Edoardo remembered it, because he immediately turned pale. He stepped back, as he felt the need to sit down.

  The man turned to Monica. «I wanted to risk and I lost. After all, I had no choice. I’m not ashamed to admit it, my lifestyle was too expensive. That was mostly Giulia, my wife, but I can’t blame everything on her. There were some bruises, and I went all-in. if the deal had gone through, I would have been able to solve everything. I could have given back the money I’d taken, there would have even been some extra money for all my clients. Instead, it was a catastrophe. It was like a Russian roulette and I lost. Well, I wasn’t fit for prison. I wasn’t able to accept the shame. I had lost and it was time to end it, I would have avoided suffering for everyone. I shut myself in the study and I shot myself in the temple».

  Monica gasped.

  «The bullet veered off, it only wounded me. Yet, I had the strength to try hang myself. They saved me that time, too, and they arrested and convicted me. I accumulated five suicide attempts, before accepting that I couldn’t die».

  «What are you doing here?», asked Edoardo.

  The man started laughing. «I didn’t escape from prison, if that’s what you’re think
ing. I’ve expiated my guilt: seven extremely long years. I’ve been released a month ago».

  «And you came here?».

  «Where else could I have gone? This place has taken my death, and I want It back».

  «What about your home?».

  «It doesn’t exist anymore. It’s not mine anymore, there’s nothing belonging to me there. My family doesn’t exist anymore, either. Giulia didn’t even come to the trial, I have no idea where they are now. She wasn’t one to bear hardships».

  «What did you say, earlier?», asked Monica. «What were you talking about?».

  «Let’s say I have made some investigations, in the past month. I got busy».

  «I’d never seen you before».

  «I can make myself invisible, when it is necessary».

  Edoardo suddenly remembered it. «Nicola Piovani!».

  «That was my name, for whatever it’s worth, but it’s been a long time since someone has called me that».

  No one else wasted time introducing themselves. «What have you discovered?», asked Monica.

  «Just more mysteries. It’s the Emerald’s destiny, to hide its mysteries».

  «Speak more clearly», burst out Edoardo.

  «You’re sitting right on top of the biggest mystery».

  Edoardo jumped up, and Chata went away from the fountain, too.

  «This one?».

  «It’s right at the centre of the Emerald, did you notice that?».

  «And so?».

  «There’s a writing, did you ever notice it?».

  Monica looked out for it. There was a small plate, right under the statue. It was unreadable, anyway, because it had been covered by a greenish sheen after decades of sediments.

  «What does it mean?».

  «You should try to read it, I remember it by heart. We’d even joke about it, me and Giulia, ages ago, trying to understand its meaning».

  Edoardo didn’t want to do it, and neither did Chata. Monica’s curiosity had been too roused not to intervene.

  «I’ll do it», she said, and she carefully went over the fountain’s edge. The pool was covered by every type of sediment, that luckily had solidified.

  Very carefully, she reached the statue and she clang to it. She was finally able to understand what it represented: she was a maiden holding a cornucopia.

  She tried to clean the plate with a tissue, but it was useless. Then she used her keys to scrape off that strange green rust.

  The writing appeared, bit by bit. Monica frowned, too, understanding its meaning.

  «What’s written there?», asked Edoardo.

  Monica read it.

  I dedicate this house to you, Emerald.

  I’ve built it for you, so that it can always

  be a safe place to support you.

  With all my love.

  Anna Rey

  THE BALLAD OF PARIO

  Fantasy-Horror Novella

  PLOT

  Luca’s thoughts - his hopes and dreams - centred on one thing, and one thing only: his neighbour, Laura. She was his first crush, and she had turned into a full-scale obsession. He liked to spy on her, watching her every move, and he was always making up excuses to run into her, but all his efforts seemed to be in vain. He had finally managed to arrange everything perfectly - he had the house to himself and he had screwed up his courage, ready to ask her out on a date - but those damn deer ruined everything. Those awful, too-big animals that could walk through walls were the last thing he needed. They weren’t even ghosts, not by any stretch of the imagination, because they left devastation in their wake wherever they went. He had no idea where they could have come from, given that he and Laura lived right at the top of a skyscraper. But maybe they could provide the perfect opportunity to win Laura over, to show her how brave he was. If only he didn’t have to contend with that pain-in-the-arse Parry, the dark-haired guy who lived across the hall. Parry was handsome, mournful and so tragic; and always so damn perfect. Of course Laura had fallen under his spell, the poor thing. Luca couldn’t compete - he knew that all too well - Parry was just perfect in every way. But Parry had a secret: he knew perfectly well where the deer were coming from, and, moreover, why they were there. He knew that they were merely the vanguard of an ancient and deadly menace that was about to arrive, threatening them all.

  EXTRACT

  1

  Temple of Diana

  Lake Nemi

  500BC

  The hero waited alone, in one of the chambers of the temple. They had brought him refreshments, water from the fountain and a basket of fruit, but he hadn’t touched a thing. Dawn was about to break, and from the moment it did, his life would never be the same again. He sat there, silent, immersed in his thoughts, his head covered by his arms, almost hidden.

  The woman watched him from afar, lingering in the doorway. She wanted to remember him exactly as he was right now, to imprint him on her memory forever. Behind her was a frenzy of activity as the priest and his attendants made the preparations for the sacrifice.

  The hero saw her, and leapt to his feet.

  «Mother!».

  The woman couldn’t remain there any longer, so she stepped forward. Standing in front of him, she raised a hand and stroked his cheek.

  «Mother, what’s going on?».

  He was just so perfect, her son. The most beautiful boy that she’d ever seen. All the local girls had swooned over him and dreamed about him, although they knew all too well that they could never have him. He had to remain chaste and pure forever, because that was the only way to ensure that he would be a worthy gift for their goddess.

  He understood. «Is it time already?». A shadow passed over his face. «But it can’t be! I’m not ready, it’s too soon!».

  She stroked his cheek again, until he grabbed her wrist. «I’m eighteen years old today», he told her.

  And that, in short, was the problem. He wasn’t a boy any more, he had grown into a man.

  He pushed her away and took a step back. Then he turned his back to her before speaking, unable to meet her gaze.

  «I don’t believe in them».

  The woman remained silent.

  He found the strength to continue, to say his piece to the end.

  «I don’t believe that the gods exist. I don’t believe that She exists. I don’t believe in any of this rubbish, in any of what all of you have told me!».

  What he was saying was terrible, but the woman wasn’t upset by it. She understood his desperation, his fear of the fate that awaited him. How often had she herself desperately prayed that this day would never come?

  «You’re just going to kill me, you know that? There’s nothing there, you’re sacrificing me to nothing. You’re sending me to my death».

  He needed her now more than ever, and in truth he wasn’t a man: no, he was still a boy. His training had made him strong and invincible, but his heart was weak and his mind tortured.

  She took him by the hand.

  «Sit down», she told him, and she sat down herself, beside him.

  «When Virbo founded our city…», began the woman, but the hero cut her off at once.

  «Enough, enough!».

  The woman ignored his pleas and began again.

  «When Virbo founded our city…».

  But this time, the hero had no desire to stop and listen to her.

  «It’s a legend, Mother, just a legend. Virbo doesn’t exist, and neither does the goddess!».

  The woman silenced him with a wave.

  «You’re wrong, the goddess does exist. She has always existed, She’s right here with us». Then, she got up, and started to pace the room. «Diana didn’t want us here. She didn’t want us invading her forests, and farming her Earth. She didn’t let us hunt, and She sent her agents to destroy the harvests. Life was hard, there was so much misery and famine. But then one day, a hero came».

  She waited a moment to see if her son was listening. The hero was discouraged, and was barely registering her word
s because he had already heard them too many times, but he remained silent.

  «The first hero, Atreus!», the woman continued. «He understood what Diana wanted. She was a huntress, and what She desired above all things was a worthy quarry. Atreus was sure that he could divert her attention away from us, if he himself were that quarry. He was young and strong, and brave. He knew that it was hopeless, that sooner or later She would catch him, but he went ahead all the same, he sacrificed himself for his people».

  She spun around and stared fiercely into her son’s face.

  «He was right! A whole year, that’s how long Diana’s hunt lasted before She was able to catch him! And during that year our people lived in peace, our harvests flourished, and our men could go and hunt in the forest without the fear of being killed. A year of prosperity, of perfect tranquility!».

  She sat down again beside her son.

  «After him, there were others, so many others. They gave themselves willingly: the youngest, the bravest, they sacrificed themselves for us all. They gave Diana the thing She wanted above anything else. The thrill of the hunt. They kept her busy, one after the other, right up until today».

  She heaved a long sigh.

  «Her agents have been seen in our lands, as recently as the last few days. No one is brave enough to venture into the forest any more, and the farmers are worried about their harvests. At this point, we can be certain: Marius has been defeated».

  She shook her head sadly.

  «Poor boy, he didn’t even last four months, and he was the very best. Diana is getting more and more cunning each time».

  The hero still didn’t believe her, he didn’t believe a single word of it.

  «Diana doesn’t exit! Heroes don’t exist! It’s all lies! Lies!», he shouted.

  His mother grabbed hold of him once more.

  «Do you really believe that we would send you out there if it wasn’t true? That we’d put you through this? My son, you were born for this. We’ve trained you, educated you, taught you everything that you need to know. So that you can be strong, and put up a fight against her. So that you can bring us peace once more».