The Long Shadow Of A Dream. Roberta Mezzabarba

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      A green lawn surrounded by myriads of large poplars and centuries-old olive trees gave them a nice welcome. In silence Ernesto led Greta to the cliff. Immediately to the right, as soon as the slope began, their eyes glimpsed at the few remains of the Church of the Magdalene: a few pieces were enough to show Greta the beauty that the church must have once had before being destroyed and lying on the ground of the island. Going further uphill, they suddenly passed from the grassy path dotted with large plants of prickly pears and giant agaves to a series of steps carved into the rock, unequal, corroded, broken: that was called the Staircase of the Strongholds. They continued to climb one after the other, talking softly to each other, until they saw a furrow in front of them, almost a wound in the living rock where one day, explained Ernesto, the drawbridge used to be lowered.

      «I heard people saying that the first set of walls that enclosed the mountain was supposed to be here. Today only a few square stones are left. Probably the missing pieces were used to make new buildings, including probably the church of the Madonna del Monte, in Marta .»

       They walked along, without stopping, beyond the gash of the drawbridge. The broken up steps alternated with the unstable ground. Greta lost her balance, perhaps she put her foot in the wrong place or because of her constantly turning to look around. Ernesto was ready to grab her before she fell. They remained motionless for a few moments, without breathing, then without saying a word he took her hand in his, and they continued walking one beside the other, as if falling together could be somehow more pleasant. Greta followed Ernesto, staring at the strong hand gently holding hers: she imagined that he was carrying her to safety, but she could not understand from what. They continued going uphill as far as a small hollow in the boulder on their right: the vegetation completely enveloped the arch dug into the rock as if to hide it from prying eyes.

      «Greta, this is the entrance to a tunnel that goes down to the shores of the lake.»

      In saying this, Ernesto began to make his way among the luxuriant plants that were hanging from the ceiling like so many arms outstretched towards them. He lit a torch to shed some light in the darkness a little, allowing Greta to see the worn out steps where she was putting her feet. The entrance to the tunnel was high and wide, however as it was going down into the bowels of the island it became increasingly narrow and tortuous. They were going down, hands in hands, but when they got down to the bottom, on the verge of going out, on account of the broken steps, and the rocks, which had fallen from the ceiling and the thick vegetation that grew on the site, they were forced to stop a few meters before reaching the lake. The water glistened in the holes, through the crevices of that blocked passage, with their iridescent flicker.

      «We made all this effort to only be able to look through the rubble that prevents us from reaching the lake.»

      Greta was annoyed and disappointed.

      Ernesto let go of her hand, placed the torch he had held in his left hand until then on the ground, and turned to Greta, turning his back on the shimmer of the lake.

      She was beautiful. The reflections of the water were playing on her face, among her red cheeks and the dark eyes made almost shining by those flashes. It all seemed so natural to him. He brought his lips to Greta's small and fleshy ones and kissed her. It tasted of rose petals.

      She was shocked, but did not withdraw from that unexpected contact: she felt Ernesto's hands caressing her cheeks, her neck, going down on her shoulders and sliding down to her hands, loose along her hips, then, while he was holding them, he saw tears on her face that she quickly managed to dry with the palm of one hand.

      The spell was broken, the mystry was dispelled. Greta was once again caught in her feelings.

      Ernesto looked at her. He looked at those tearful eyes without finding the strength to ask her what was wrong ...

      «I didn't mean to scare you, Greta, sorry, but he was stronger than me... you're so beautiful.»

      «No, Ernesto, it's not your fault... it's me... » Greta kept her eyes down « ... I am wrong.»

      «Why do you say this? You are a very sweet girl, why are you making these far-fetched accusations?

      «No, you would never understand ... let's forget everything and go back to the sunlight. Let's pretend that nothing happened.»

      Greta was pleading with Ernesto to stifle that feeling that had now got hold of him. Even if he wanted to, now it would be useless and painful to forget everything.

      «I'm sorry, but I can't, I wouldn't be able to. I'd rather you asked asked me to stop breathing. Greta don't run away, let me ... let me love you ... we are so similar ... don't deprive yourself of what we both want .»

      In saying this Ernesto had gently lifted the girl's face.

      «I can't, I don't want you to suffer for me, Ernesto.

      Try to understand me! »

      Greta's voice had become a whisper.

      Meanwhile, the sun, reflecting on the lake, continued its flashing games which lit up the cave.

      «Do you feel what I feel too? Don’t you? »

       Greta did not reply, she was just staring at Ernesto's eyes which were desperately searching for positive hint.

      «Greta ... do you love me? »

      At those words something seemed to stir up the girl. She was sobbing her heart out. He freed her hands from Ernesto's to cover up her face again flooded with tears.

      «Greta… »

      «Of course I love you ... Yes, Ernesto, I love you.»

      This time she brought her face closer to that of the boy: she looked at him for a moment straight in the eyes, then kissed him gently wetting his face with her salty tears.

      They hugged.

      They remained in each other's arms for an indefinable length of time: Greta felt Ernesto's arms squeezing her deeply against his chest. She heard the distant noise caused by the breaking of the barriers that had kept her so long in that state of proud and stubborn solitude, without doctrines, with nothing to believe in or trust. She felt pain and joy together, she felt a feeling of lightness and at the same time she felt her heart heavy, like a thousand pounds of lead.

      * * *

      They got back.

      After crossing a short field dotted with thistles almost everywhere and sparse olive trees, they reached the top of the mountain that dominated the island, where the second set of walls was located. They found on a large boulder, squared by arms and chisels God knows how long before, what remained of the tower, the fortress, the monastery and the church of S. Stefano. Everything seemed so desolate among those stones covered by those weeds that tried to hide even the last remains of those settlements, but at the same time everything was marvellous: the grey rubble stood out against the dark and gorgeous blue colour of the lake. Some of those pieces leaned over the precipice seventy meters high on the surface of the water, so much so that it seemed that they would slip down that bristling and frightening cliff to disappear in a splash under the deep water.

      «You know, Ernesto» Greta broke that silence only broken by the sound of the waters below «I would like to die, now, at this precise moment, falling into the blue waters of the lake, as one of these boulders could do: I am so happy, and I am afraid that everything will change. СКАЧАТЬ