Crystal Stair. Alessandra Grosso

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      Alessandra Grosso

      Crystal Stair

      Original title: Scala e Cristallo

      Translated by: Silvia Baratta

      Copyright © 2019 - Alessandra Grosso

      CONTENTS

      ▪ ESCAPE AND FLEE

      ▪ SOLACE AND TROUBLE

      ▪ THE CAVE MONSTERS

      ▪ DOOMSDAY SPIDERS

      ▪ THE CRAZY OLD WOMAN

      ▪ LOST CITY

      ▪ THE YOUNG WOMAN; OR, THE TRAFFIC LIGHT

      ▪ DRAGON

      ▪ THE LONG MARCH

      ▪ DEPARTURE

      ▪ BETRAYAL

      ▪ DEATH BECOMES YOU

      ▪ THE CHESS MATCH BEGINS

      ▪ CAPTURE OF THE PAWN

      ▪ CAPTURE OF THE BISHOP

      ▪ THE SLAUGHTER OF THE KNIGHTS’ HORSES

      ▪ CHECKMATE

      ▪ THE DARK LADY

      ▪ THE QUEEN

      ▪ CHARLIE CHAPLIN’S FINAL SPEECH

      ▪ MY MISTAKES

PREFACE

      It’s only the dreamers who ever move mountains.¹

      Welcome to my story.

      This book is a mere collection of nightmares, without any pretensions but to let you enter the intricate folds of my mind.

      I think everyone has experienced nightmares in their life, whether asleep or awake; I can well say I’m an impressive expert on sleeping terrors. Close-eyed nightmares are my personal curse: I have been having them frequently since I was a child, and I could never explain the reason why.

      My childhood was related to the constant fear that something catastrophic was about to happen, either to me or to the people I loved. I usually felt something akin to a cold breath on my neck that made my hair stand on end; that icy, slimy hand touching your back and making you startle, aghast. Now and then my vision would darken completely and, so as to feel more at ease, I had to go and lie down on my bed. Yet, even entering my bedroom I dreaded what I would find when I finally closed my eyes.

      Things didn’t improve at all in my teen years: soon after a dream I always woke up in a sweat, shivering. In the morning, then, I obviously had to face life again like everyone else, though still doubtful about my future. But it was whenever I had personal choices to make that the nightmares worsened. At those times my life easily became hell; I closed myself off entirely and always wondered what I had achieved so far and what I wanted next from my life.

      Over time I have come to write my dreams down, alongside my wishes, in order to analyse them and see if they ever come true. This has helped me to shed some light on such issues more than once.

      Then, one day, I thought to myself that I would tell you all about my terrors, embellishing each one and including them in a collection of every spine-chilling thrill I have ever experienced.

      I apologise for this chilly gift on my part, but my mind is likewise a cold and messy place. It is the mind of a woman, of a fighter who openly faced evil and chose to talk about it.

      Though my words might sometimes wound the more susceptible souls, I don’t mean to claim the moral high ground over any of you. Everyone has their own world view; we feel and shape everything around us accordingly. And after all the ordeals I have endured through life, I now strive to use my inner eye so as to create a more fruitful vision of the future. I would like to see a future full of dreams, studies, travels: dreams are basically wishes our hearts make.

      As to nightmares, though...

      Close-eyed nightmares have always been my speciality, and there are several reasons behind this phenomenon, but the main one is probably that I’m a tolerant and sensitive person; over the course of my life I have in fact experienced both thorns in my side and many a rainy day.

      But I have always, always sought light, and I think the best way to illustrate this part of me is through my favourite poem: Mother to Son, by Langston Hughes. Its main subject, the crystal stair, illustrates the confusing period I’m currently experiencing, and the desire to reach my full potential in life.

      Alessandra

      Mother to Son²

      Well, son, I’ll tell you:

      Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

      It’s had tacks in it,

      And splinters,

      And boards torn up,

      And places with no carpet on the floor—

      Bare.

      But all the time

      I’se been a-climbin’ on,

      And reachin’ landin’s,

      And turnin’ corners,

      And sometimes goin’ in the dark

      Where there ain’t been no light.

      So boy, don’t you turn back.

      Don’t you set down on the steps

      ’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

      Don’t СКАЧАТЬ