I'll give the examples with the first of a series of very short stories that I thought of out of the blue, cuz the muse was working overtime. Blame her!
I'll post 'em daily as long as I have my stock available, then...well, whenever I come up with one.
Yes, still in Italian, yadda yadda yadda!
EDIT - Once again, Tha Housedog is kindly translating them, and I'll post them in replacement of the original releases. Thank you TH!
It's raining.
The first drops falling from one cloud that was determined to spoil a perfect sky.
A perfect sky, an unusually cool summer evening. The crickets are chirping, and around me there is a shimmering constellation of fireflies.
I remember that, as a child, I had created at least twenty different constellations.... What was that? Oh, yes, Italy!
I was so young, a little Balilla full of dreams of glory as to how my contribution would inspire the armies, the awards and the medals that I would be given by the leaders, up, up, up to the Duce! A square in my honor, a statue...
Oh Lord, was I crazy. I wasn’t the only one, for how much consolation it can be Maybe that's why I lost a lot of 'friends'... I mean, I’ve been left alone. I had the decency to be ashamed, at least. Best case, the others thought, they had to move on, rebuild their lives, to 'look forward'! I think Gianni and Lorenzo are now politicians. A Communist and a Democratic Christian. Both extinct. Heh.
The cloud keeps spitting- at least, I am not thinking of even less poetic images. I hope that I don't see any snails, I never could endure those ugly creatures! Mosquitoes are hateful, eh, but I can swat them, I can give ‘em the DDT –pardon, the repellent, since it’s become politically incorrect to exterminate those little buzzing bloodsuckers, too!
Snails, really can’t stand ‘em crawlers! Every time they’ll mess my lettuce, and after the rain I end up squash them underneath my feet. I swear, I don’t want to do it, it makes me sick! For how many times I have squashed the 'gifts' from Araldo (yes, I have a dog named Araldo, thanks!), there has never been anything as nasty as trampling those slimy slugs after the rain.
Who would have thought that they’d strike back?
The rain falls stronger now, and the moonless sky keeps showing a panorama of gems. 20/20, fit as a fiddle! Healthy as a shark! I'm sure, cholesterol is an invention of the companies that produce those 'light' horrors. Marina tried to convince me to eat that stuff. I had to threaten to disinherit her, if she did not stop.
Marina is as thin as a nail. They would have mistaken her for a Peenemunde worker...
The rain is nice. As the Americans say? 'Thank you for the small favors, O Lord'. Private Thompson cured me of the illusion of fascism with a bar of chocolate and a piece of cheese. We weren’t eating good, under the Duce, no.
I turn my head. In front of my face, a snail is crawling. I hope that it doesn’t crawl into my mouth. I hope that Ernesto, who considers ‘noisy’ a fly buzzing from the other side of the village, go and see why Araldo is barking non-stop.
I dn’t remember if I said I wanted to be buried under the apple tree.
Who cares? I'm dying, and it is not as bad as they say...
"Thoughts of a Dying Man"
By Valerio




