I
can no longer do the things I did before, I can not go out on the
street without thinking about how much has happened to me...
Many
years have passed to
now,
but still can not forget.
My
life has changed... and I will never go back... Every time I pass in
front of the house, a chill runs through me back and my senses
stimulated by the memory transmit alarm signals to my brain.
I
can not forget... I do not WANT to forget!
What
happened, I wonder... I do not know if I'll ever be able to tell all
had happened. Even writing, as I am doing now, I reopened a wound
still bleeding...
Yet
I have to try, my psychologist says
I have to overcome what has happened to me... he
says
I have to metabolize and according to him, write and talk about what
has happened to me can only make me well!
I'm
not so sure, but what else can I do?
It
was 1989, when I moved to Legnano, I had found a job in a company as
an engineer in the area of production. A well paid job but it
took a lot of time. I had to travel often and I had no way to spend
much time with my wife. Anyway,
from time to time, I took her with me. She liked to travel a lot so
took advantage of my business trips to visit the capitals of Europe,
to buy books and novels
sometimes,
but more often ancient texts that she said to worship. She knew
several languages other than Italian. French, English, Spanish, but
also dead languages such as Latin and ancient Greek not scared at
all, and every time I went to work in a country where they spoke an
unknown language, for she was a party. Preparing his case quickly,
accurately she
selected
carefully
grammars
and books that could have been useful
and, a few weeks before departure, began to study the new language
then promptly practiced and deepened on the spot. I never could
understand how he did... but for her it was simple, it seemed that
languages do not have secrets, and it also began to be useful for my
work. Having a personal interpreter and total trust in
him is
not for everyone indeed! After a year of hard work the company
decided to hire me as a manager so
I had to take care of large contracts with foreign countries. The
activity was
booming
and I would take a percentage for each new contract. I accepted
without thinking so
much
and also my wife, Anna, was happy.
It
was time to afford
buying
a
home of our own, would be our palace. Then we lived near the train
station, in a building of the 50s, in an attic room simply furnished,
one bedroom, a kitchenette, which opened onto a terrace that
overlooked the station, a really tiny bathroom and a second bedroom
that I used as a studio and Anna as a library, with a single large
black leather chair in the middle and we shared a table always
covered with books and projects. All around a dark wood bookcase
overloaded with books and a lamp on the wall made the environment
intriguing and welcoming.
The
books came from all over the world and probably all languages were
represented, such as the UN palace
and, maybe, more! When we decided to buy the house we had no idea
about
what
to buy, the only requirement was space for books of Anna and my
studio, which at the time was too small. For the rest everything was
fine.
We
started to go out at night looking for an area that we liked. We
walked on foot several times throughout the city of Legnano, we
pushed up to Castellanza, in Busto Arsizio and also visited the
neighboring countries but could not find anything that met our needs
and was well within our reach. Every evening, weather permitting, we
did miles, carefully watching the houses, the gardens, the people...
looking for what would become our home.
One
night brighter than usual, accompanied by a full moon and the sky
strangely free from clouds, we noticed, a few meters from the river
Olona, a dilapidated old house, almost completely covered with ivy,
dry, sagging gabled roofs. The windows were closed the
dark wood hanging by a hinge iron corroded by time and rain, creaking
in the wind. We looked at each other, smiling. It looked like the
Haunted Mansion, I thought, and already I continued my journey...
"Behold,
this is the house I want!"
His
words came as an
unexpected slap to my
ears,
I stood dumbfounded for a moment, then turned toward her, thinking he
was joking. From his eyes I knew immediately that he was not joking,
he was serious, very serious indeed. I realized immediately that
anything I could say or do would have been useless, that dilapidated
old house would become our home. Anna knew as
she
was a girl of fifteen, and we were together for so many years, I knew
that if he wanted something she
would have obtained, by hook or by crook. We had to make it a habit,
that would be our home.
The
day after we got back together in front of the house, of course, it
would take a bit of time before you make a living what was left of
that
detached house, abandoned for at least twenty years.
But
there was no hurry.
As
I watched the roof trying to figure out how many of those tiles were
still intact, an old woman
we
spoke to with the typical “legnanese” accent we had begun to
understand and appreciate. She
asked us who we were and what we wanted and without waiting for our
answers began to tell us
of
his life, when she arrived with her husband in Legnano, their happy
life, children, the fact that it was old and no longer felt good to
ear (but his tongue was still working very well, I thought) and the
ghosts who lived in the house we were watching...
"Ghosts?"
I interrupted unintentionally...
"Ghosts?"
Anna repeated aloud...
And
so the old woman, who lived right next door, began to tell of noises
coming from inside the house, the lights that appeared from time to
time, the dark shadows, who had been
seen
so many times hidden behind the curtains of the window of the
kitchen. Of her cats disappeared in the past and of
broken
toys that occasionally was in his garden...
Every
word she
pronounced
but push Anna to that house.
How
well placed temptation
on the hook of an experienced fisherman, his words attracted prey to
the deadly trap, a trap that would have meant for Anna... I did not
understand how it
could please her, but I did not feel even discussing his choice, this
time I would have been content, and then, just in case, I would have
regretted in silence, for love.
We
managed to find out who was the owner of the house and within a few
months was ours, only
ours
(and the bank that
had
granted the loan) and a few more months and it would be habitable.
Works
took longer than expected due to a hidden crack that came from the
roof to the foundation but in the end the project was completed and
the house was delivered. It only remained to buy some furniture and
make the move of all
our
things.
We
bought a beautiful bedroom.
The
kitchen had to be ordered to measure and the same for the library of
the study, which was large and bright. In mid-May, we moved.
The
house had changed in appearance, the ivy grew lush and everything
that was once rusty and creaky now seemed to have been reanimated.
Anna was happy and her face radiant made me forget the strange
feeling that I proved
hearing about ghosts...
The
old neighbor, since she
knew that we had purchased the
house had
not spoken a word, we passed by her
bittersweet
face without saying goodbye.
One
evening we
surprised her
while throwing salt in front of our door with
a strange smile in her
face. But I did not pay it much thought at the time.
It
had been several months since we moved into our new home, It seemed
that everything was
well and the nearby has
begun to say goodbye even if you could see from a distance that did
not approve our presence. Then, one evening, an unusual fact struck
me.
Anna
was sitting in his chair, we had purchased another one,
in the middle of the library-study and I arrived from the kitchen. At
his side, next to my seat, I saw the silhouette of a man bending over
her was
reading.
A chill came over me, a strangled cry came from my throat...
"What
is it, dear?!?"
The
shadow disappeared...
I
could not speak, I saw it or
was
just suggestion?
I
plopped down in the chair, without forces, such as drained from life.
I
had seen a ghost?
The
words of the old woman
I
remembered... Who was that being there, next to my dear
loved Anna?
She
was in danger? These and other questions looked out of my mind but I
could not speak, I could not open my mouth, it was as sealed.
I
could not move, I was paralyzed by fear. The feeling that I had felt
at the sight of that shadow had not disappeared, indeed, was stronger
than ever... as if that being watching me behind, as if by invisible
arms hold me back and I shut his mouth with lips ice.
I
could not move a single
muscle,
I was paralyzed in my
chair and watched, eyes wide with terror... the eyelids open
unnaturally dilated pupils.
Anna
was there, in front of me and the shadow grew closer, terrible,
bloodthirsty.
Then
it
hit her, once, twice, ten times... the blade of the knife penetrated
his flesh and blood splashed on the covers of books, on upholstery,
on the cards of my last contract, slowly, sticky... blood red ruby. I
tried to move, to scream, to warn her, to save her... but I could not
do anything, I could only look at the horrible sight that now I wish
I could forget.
The
shadow disappeared silently...
Time
passed, the night passed without noise, the smell of blood filled the
room but I could not move, I was like glued to the chair... Then the
next morning, I began to recover, I was able to move my
arms and then my
legs took
life and
drag me out of the house crawling on the floor. I opened the door and
yelled loudly... The old neighbor was there, in front of me, not at
all surprised, as if she
understood what had happened... as if she
knew!
I
asked her to call the police, I stammered something about Anna,
ghost, blood... then I fainted.
I
woke up in hospital, tied to the bed with a straitjacket.
They
told me that I had given in outburst, I screamed for three days, that
raving of shadows and ghosts and murder of a woman, Anna.
They
told me that the house was
checked.
No
signs
of blood
or
of
a struggle, no
woman at all dead or alive.
There were only
a lot of
books dust-covered
and signs of an abandoned house from
some time. Everything made sense the lack of a female hand...
The
old neighbor had told the Police that a few weeks before the woman
who lived with me, Anna, had left for not coming and I had not taken
it well.
Maybe
I was crazy, but it was not true.
I
knew what was the truth, I was there... in that room. I had seen the
old woman, looking at me sideways... I saw the shadow... and the
blood, I!
I…
Was
I
completely
crazy?!?
Alessandro Giovanni Paolo Rugolo
Original language: Italian
Translated by my novel: La casa sull'Olona
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