But now I want to tell you of that evening: when we entered church, Angela was badly, it was prey to one of his/her crises. It howled, wagging himself/herself/itself and tearing himself/herself/itself the hair. Every now and then it calmed down and it grabbed on to me imploring to be nearby me her. Only with you nearby I can succeed us. I pray you, not to leave me... it told me. And I would never have left her; I would ever have been able to leave her/it in the hands of the demon. It was mine, it was pure, it didn't deserve what has happened her.»
The old man made a break. I took a seat me close to him: I wanted to listen to him/it. If I/you had had at that time a crumb of lucidity, I would perhaps have done for the nth time the staircases of run and I would have escaped away from that insane vaneggiante, but I was spellbound from his/her voice and from the phatos of his/her story.
«Angela is sat on the floor when the priest started to pronounce the formula of the ritual» taken back the man «and I was to his/her shoulders, ready to be her near if you/he/she had needed it. The girl that would have owed stuffed from witness you/he/she was apart and she cried: you/he/she was frightened to death for the state in which she saw redoubt his/her best friend and you/he/she begged God to free once and for all her from that torture. The other boy was my cousin and was next to the priest, to help him/it in the case the necessity was introduced.
While the priest recited the prayers, Angela howled and he twisted, scratching himself/herself/itself and tearing himself/herself/itself the suits; its eyes seemed to want him to plunge out of the orbits and the back you/he/she would be been able to break under the wild hits of its unnatural movements. The priest vomited divine words and Angela you/he/she spit him I set. My girl would never have covered of insults anybody, so much less a man of church, but at that time you/he/she seemed not to know how to say different words from those that didn't belong to his/her dictionary. The profusion of vulgarity was interrupted by bestial verses, that raised him from its throat, whose veins seemed to be on the point to explode. It frightened me, but in my cuor I continued to love her/it, because I knew that what saw it didn't belong to the nature of Angela but it was the machination of someone that had unjustly taken possession of his/her body.
I wanted only to save her/it, I wanted to be nearby her, I wanted that it was happy: it was my life.»
It made another break, this longer time, as him same appraising if it were opportune to continue.
«I listen to you...» I incited him/it me, without almost realizing.
«I believe that there are no words to adequately describe what it happened during the exorcism. If what happened to Angela it terrorized us, what occurred around it gave us for us the awareness to be indeed nothing in comparison to the strengths of the evil. Of a line the glass door of the cathedral broke him, as if something from the of you/he/she had killed her burst; the wind lifted us, he/she took us to slaps, he/she let us revert to earth: it was as if we were crushed by a tornado to turn.
The friend of Angela was huddled up in an angle, you/he/she labored to breathe because of the nonstop weeping. Father Livio kept on reciting the prayers, even while it was getting up in flight under the push of that trumpet of air. My cousin tried to open the door, so that we could escape but, as soon as he succeeded in moving the shutter of a pair of centimeters, the wind closed again her/it, with that noise that removes every hope to whom stays closed inside.
Angela was to earth, expanse to belly in on, torn to pieces by the scratches that you/he/she was auto-inflicted and exhausted to have wagged; for an instant he took back: its eyes returned those usual and with the look it looked for me. I drew near me to her, I took the face among her hands and I whispered her: you are calm, everything will be all right. You found the strength to smile me and with his/her voice it only told me: I love You. My eyes didn't have the time to fill him with tears, that the tornado got depressed on me and estranged me from her: while both the shutters of the front door opened, dashing away my cousin, that went to beat against a bench, I was cast out, on the steps. Then the front door was closed again.
I have never known thing has happened then within there from that moment in, I know only that suddenly the cathedral takings to tremble and I tumbled down for the staircases up to the square. I tried to go up again the staircase, but I didn't succeed there. I tried then to make the turn of the building to be able to enter you from one of the doors on the back: I furiously beat against each of them, but there was no way of opening her. Through what he/she remained some glass door I perceived some flames. Then the roof started to break him and its pieces, one after the other, fell to the inside. I howled the name of Angela, as if it were the only word that I/you knew. Angela... I wanted Angela, my Angela.»
The tears ruled him the face and its blue eyes they seemed to be the center of the universe.
«After the ceiling, the whole rest but this part of the history it also collapsed you and the others you already know her/it.»
Also my face was invaded by the tears; my breast was full of love and my braccias, to the sudden one, they were full of that man, that less than a hour before were gone out for beating. I caught me of my gesture, but I didn't know how to do to less less than complete him/it.
I still held him/it narrow to me for some second, then I loosened the taking and slowly I got further of it. At that time I became me account that the plaza was empty. There was not around anybody and dark reigned sovereign.
I realized to find me on the steps of the place to which you/he/she had been me said not to approach me for a life, sat close to the man that in country all considered crazy; as if it was not enough, I had just embraced him.
«It will be better to go,» I said then «it is almost time of supper and my family it will be in thought».
I got up me in hurry and, while I was going down the staircases, I told him: «Hi!».
«You don't ask me what I do us sat here the whole day?» it howled me to the shoulders.
I stayed me an instant, turning I spill me of him, and I remained in listening.
«I am the keeper of the cathedral: I protect the tourists from the Evil; until there will be me, here nothing ugly cannot happen.»
His/her words, rather than to reassure me, terrorized me. I don't know if he hastened but, listening to her, I shivered. I gave his shoulders and I hastened homeward me.
«Soon the things will change!» it continued «Everything will be as it would be due to be.»
I took a stradina and I tried to remove from the mind his/her words.
YOU. Explanations
That evening I talked to my wife.
I asked her what he/she remembered some histories that were told us on the cathedral from children.
It told me that, after the evening mass of that prophetic three May, four young people were held back to pray and that a shake of earthquake had made their crollar the ceiling on the head.
I remembered another version instead: the building had come down because of a computational error from the engineers that had planned him.
We finally arranged, that the collapse had to have happened because the fragile structure of the building had been tried by a shake of earthquake; dopotutto two nobody had still been born to the times of the collapse, for which that was the only explanation that we succeeded in giving us, on the base of what there had been reported.
I asked her even if he/she knew something of a certain Father Livio.
«Certain!» she responded «In the period of the collapse, a priest of Margi escaped with a parishioner; you/they have seen even them to Rondi and you/he/she is said that has had some children.»
My wife had always frequented the parish and was usual client of the parrucchiera of Poles - that always knew one more than whoever other - therefore didn't stay me whether to trust her and to take for good his/her version; the old one was surely crazy instead! Its history was not standing, was surely the fruit of a blasphemous delirium!
I kept on asking
me as I had done to serve me imbambolare as his/her histories. I felt me a fool, humiliated by my naivety.
VII. Anxious disappearance
In the following days I tried to avoid the runs that you/they forced me to cross the plaza, also at the cost to walk very more, because I leastly was not intenzionato to cross again the look of that man: I sufficiently felt already me stupid, I didn't have need that he remembered him/it to me. I started to have been being tormented for the idea that that evening my fellow townspersons, hidden behind some window or some wall, had seen me talk to him or - still worse - to embrace him/it. This thought was source of anger toward myself and of deep hate toward the slim and taciturn figure that for years if n'era been huddled up on top of the staircases.
I would never have imagined that one day the mendicant of the cathedral would have disappeared.
When I came to know him/it, I heard the necessity to go to check of person: the man was not on his/her step and the building anymore you/he/she was inagibile because the frescos of the ceiling had suddenly started to crumble himself/herself/themselves, impolverando the visitors' heads. In front of the image of the barriers that you/they surrounded the before square the staircase, they returned me in mind the words of the old one and I felt the breakfast be moved himself/herself/themselves in my stomach.
«Until there will be me, here you/he/she can never happen anything ugly» you/he/she had said; and here that he there was not and the plaster was coming down from the ceiling.
Did everybody sustain that the man there was not more because, tourists' flow having been closed momentarily the cathedral you/he/she confined to the plaza, therefore didn't he have interest to be there; I was sure that there was really the zampino of the old back the matter of the frescos but, if I/you had told to my wife of the meeting had with him, would she certainly have given me some fool": Who would pay never attention to the deliriums of a crazy person?" you/he/she would have asked me, and I would have been forced to admit to have done him/it because dopotutto I didn't have any tangible test to support of that version.
Some weeks later, however, I finally had the certainty that the old one had not deceived me.
VIII. The black chapel
One day the ceiling stopped of lasciar to fall pieces of plaster, and it was not certain for work of the interventions of maintenance, that to well few you/they had served up to that moment, considered that at night it crumbled him all of this that the employees restored in the daytime. Few to the time, the semblances of the building changed: a new light made pleasant that that from the reconstruction in then you/he/she had been anxious, it was as if the cathedral was freed by the presence that, beginning from the night of the accident, you/he/she had not stopped for an instant to flutter around you. Even us inhabitants of the place we stopped being afraid of it, yet we didn't succeed in finding a reasonable explanation to all of this.
A few times later we discovered, that the man of the cathedral had invested his/her savings, accumulated in the turn of over fifty years, in the purchase of a ground behind the country, on which you/he/she had had a structure to build from the threatening aspect: you/he/she was a cylindrical chapel in black marble, surmounted by a dome and surrounded from you are small towers, equidistant the one from the others and also covered them by roofs cupoliformi. You said that the old man lived there inside, but nobody had ever seen him.
If for the others the discovery was a confirmation of the madness that had been attributed for a long time to that man, for me it meant to be able to put elegant to the doubts that from the evening of my meeting with him you/they had tormented me.
One afternoon, while I was being on the hill of it behind my country, to withdraw the landscape, surrounded by the calm of the in bloom lawn and by some sapling, I turned the look in direction of the chapel. A cloud of wickedness seemed to wind her/it: he/she was not seen, but it warned the presence; it was as if the halo that had covered the cathedral for decades was moved there.
Of a line a man and a woman emerged out of the back of one of the small towers; they had to be two young people of the country gone to snoop there and to exchange tenderness and confidences in calm. Idea didn't convince entirely me, but I didn't succeed in explaining otherwise me their presence. They walked slow, hand in the hand, and I admired their slender bodies to stir toward the principal entrance: I worried me.
The binoculars, that I always brought with me taken when I went to paint, and I tried to recognize its faces. You were very beautiful, I had not seen before never her. He had the turned face toward that of her, for which I didn't succeed in seeing him/it. They kept on walking plain. Then he threw out some keys from the pocket and it opened the principal front door of the chapel. Before still that could wonder why it had the keys of that place, the youth turned the face, as to check if someone saw them enter, to the ché I didn't have doubts: it was him the boy of the cathedral. Miraculously returned to the age that had to the epoch of the tragedy, now it shone in his eyes a demon look: the price that had had to pay for getting back back its Angela had to have been tall indeed.
For a whole life you/he/she had asked the alms, he/she almost wanted to be repayed of his/her loss; you/he/she was exposed to the insults and the bad weather, but it now had before the whole eternity to be able to be happy.
When I told the whole history to my fellow townspersons, I was believed crazy and I am here now, in the stanzetta of the clinic in which my family has made me confine. I beware of the window the black chapel that is risen among the hills behind my country: it doesn't do me more fear.
I sometimes perceive the two young people walk around their dark abode, hand in the hand, and then to reenter, to finally consume the life that you/they have not been able to have together.
THE END
The author
Claudia Di the Priest is born to Caserta in 1987. It achieves the diploma of scientific maturity with the maximum one of the votes in 2005, year when it participates in the XIII Olimpiade of Philosophy qualifying himself/herself/itself to the 1° place in Campania and to the 3° place in Italy. It frequents the Master" Gestalt Counseling" near the ASPIC of Caserta and the Faculty of Sciences and Psychological Techniques near the university Fred II of Naples. It collaborates with Coffee News Magazine and it autonomously manages the page Facebook" Testanuda."
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