The room is bare, with no posters or toys. If it weren’t for the video game console on the small desk under the window, it would seem like an adult’s room. Giacomo throws himself across the bed, reaches for the switch, presses it two, three, four times. No way, the blue glass bear does not turn on.
He doesn’t know where the replacement bulbs are. Tonight he will have to sleep in the dark.
I’ll keep the blinds raised, he thinks. A little light will come from the street. He quickly puts on his pajamas, turns off the light and jumps into bed. He pulls the blanket up to his chin, his eyes wide open.
There is a little light. Not so much. A gray haze emanates from the window. In front of it, the clothes thrown on the back of the chair form a familiar silhouette. A cold sweat runs through him. Who cares that the material tossed onto the chair is that of his sweatshirt and jeans? Matter is a door to invisible energies. Giacomo hides his head under the pillow and hunches up, hardly breathing.
Then another thought strikes him. He must keep an eye on it. It may move closer. Jump up onto his feet. Press down on him, crush him with its heavy body, exhale a deathly whisper onto his face. He seems to hear it breathing, the resonant animal murmur of a waiting predator. Giacomo gingerly peeps over the sheet lowering it with one tentative finger, trying to observe the outline of the chair. If he focuses his gaze it remains indistinct; however, when he lets his eyes wander he clearly sees the mass of the twisted horns on its head, the big flat nose, the long legs under the massive but agile body. It has six of them, as long and muscular as those of a giraffe, as disgusting as those of an insect.
Giacomo has seen the monster other nights. It comes to visit him when he is at his most vulnerable. But this night he knows that it will be different. He always knew that this moment would come. The little blue bear who usually keeps it at a distance did not light: this is a sign that something needs to happen. He raises his neck and swallows. His mouth feels dry, his voice comes strange:
“What’s your name?”
A long silence.
“Djahkhmmhhhh” He finally hears a noise which could be a name or a breath. A voice so deep and dark that the glass trembles.
“You aren’t … You aren’t going to move from there, are you?”
“For now, no.”
Now the voice is becoming clearer, the words are getting more distinguishable. Perhaps it is Giacomo who is getting used to the sound.
“What do you want?”
“To be.”
Giacomo is silently praying: Don’t let it come any closer, Don’t let it come any closer. He is thinking about what topics may keep it at a distance.
“I’m not alone in the house. My sister is there, and … ”
“No. I know. But here you are alone. “
“I have a gun.”
“Yes, I know. Nice toy. “
“I’m not afraid.”
He hears a wed rustling noise, like frogs that are wriggling in mud. A laugh without lungs.
“Child, if I’m here it is because you’re afraid, believe me.”
“What do you want from me, then?”
The laughter fades slowly. “Let’s talk. For now.”
Giacomo narrows his eyes, trying to see better. Perhaps, he thinks, turning on the light would make the monster disappear. But the switch is just above the table, one step away from the chair. He can’t do it. He remembers that his mother always told him that every fear could be overcome. He sits, hugging his knees.
“You’re not real.”
“No? Do you want me to come closer and prove it?”
“Stop! Hold on. We’ll talk, you said.”
“And you speak to things that are not real?”
“You do not smell. The things that have no smell are not real.”
“Some things have a very faint odor. You only smell it if you are attentive.”
“I am attentive. You have no smell.”
“Memory has a smell? And guilt?”
Giacomo is silent. He scans the darkness trying to establish the contours of the creature. It’s big, but he doesn’t understand just how big. The noises it makes are those of a huge, powerful animal. But he’s never seen the whole picture, just glimpses of different parts.
“Why do you sometimes come and sometimes not?”
“You called me.”
“I did not call you.”
“Are you sure? Try to remember well. What were you thinking when I came in?”
“About… A Person.”
“Your father?”
“A Person.” Giacomo puts his hand on the sheet to smooth the covers, three times.
“A Person. A Person. Not my … I swore I would never call him by name.”
The Monster is making some movements that makes a continuous muffled noise, like someone turning the pages of a book.
“And what did you think of… A Person?”
“That I hate him.”
“Why?” Giacomo turns his face to the door. You can see a sliver of light under the door frame, it must be his sister going to the bathroom.
“He is a noisy eater. He slurps the soup from the spoon.”
“I already like him. And then what? “
“He can’t even let me win a game, like all other fathers do.”
“Then what?”
“He watches the TV all the time, whatever he wants. ”
“Then what?”
“He doesn’t let me eat burgers with fries. He says it is bad for me. But really it’s bad for him.”
“Is that all?”
Silence.
“You know what? I know children who have a worse life than yours.”
“No! You don’t know… ”
“Don’t say that. I do know.”
“You know nothing. I hate him and he hates me. ”
“He doesn’t hate you. He is sad. And you know why.”
“I know how it is when a person is sad. He is not sad. He is angry.”
“Sometimes sad, sometimes angry. Like you, right?”
Giacomo starts to straighten the bedspread. He passes his hand slowly, methodically, from left to right. Again and again, the same movement.
“Last night I dreamed about my mother.”
The Monster did not reply. Maybe he’s gone away. No, there is the outline of its mouth that opens and closes rhythmically. He breathes in silence.
“It’s the first time since she died.”
“Did she say anything?”
“She said: I know you had stomach ache.”
“Then what?”
“Then she caressed me and said it’s okay. And she smiled. ”
“And do you know why she said that?”
“Yes. She would let me eat the fries. Always. But would say, if you get stomach ache you have to tell me.”
“And did you have stomach ache?”
“Yes.”
“And did you tell her?”
Silence.
“Come on, answer.”
His cheeks are now wet with tears.
“No.”
He pulls out something out from under the pillow.
“I stole her white scarf and keep it with me. Look. ”
He cries again. “They didn’t let me see her.”
The Monster has given no indication of having noticed the scarf. Giacomo puts it carefully back under the pillow.
“They didn’t let me see her. It’s because when someone dies they become a monster. Like you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes that is true.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been told.”
“Who told you that?”
“Bea. My sister. Monster, she said. She said the truck that smashed into her tore her apart and turned her into a monster.”
Giacomo has been digging his nails into his white forearm. He can now see a little blood.
“They let my sister see her!”
“It was a mistake. They noticed too late that she had entered. They did not want to repeat the same mistake with you. ”
Silence.
“When you dreamed about her, was she beautiful?”
He nods without looking.
“If you had seen her at the hospital… She would not be pretty in the dream. There are things that you can not understand now. Time will come. Maybe your father …”
“A Person!”
“Maybe A Person has made a mistake. Sometimes one makes mistakes trying to do the right thing. Don’t you ever? “
More silence. Then Giacomo whispers, almost to himself.
“I know why he’s angry with me. Because it my fault.”
“It’s not your fault, Giacomo.”
“Yes, it is. I made her come to me. I called because I wanted to be picked up from school because …”
“Because you had stomach ache.”
He nods repeatedly, without stopping.
“It’s not fair!”
“It doesn’t seem fair, but it’s fair. Giacomo, your mother was hit by a man who drank half a bottle of gin at ten in the morning. It’s not your fault.”
Giacomo sobs loudly, every now and then lifting his head to breathe. The Monster approaches slowly, and now puts his paw on his shoulder, until the tears slowly fade away. Giacomo looks for a moment at that black, cold, scratching paw.
“Where do you come from?”
“I don’t remember.”
“How did you get in here?”
“I was called.”
“Do you enter through the clothes?”
“Clothes? Where are they? There are no clothes.”
“Were you a person, a child? Before … ”
It shakes its head. It looks down staring at its body, the abdomen black and shiny like that of a cockroach, legs with sparse tufts of bristly hairs.
“As far as I can remember, I’ve always been a Monster.”
Giacomo has stopped crying. He rubs his cheek with his hand.
“When my mother spoke to me in that dream …”
“Yes?”
“Was it really her, or just something in my brain?”
“Both.”
“Why should I believe you? And you? How do I know that you exist outside of my brain?”
“Simple. I know things that you do not know. Come on. Try me.”
Giacomo looks up and sees its face for the first time. The eyes are almost invisible, deeply set in dark and rugged orbits that end in a gorilla’s nose. This is where the heavy panting comes from.
“Where’s Mom?”
“Close.”
“This is not an answer.”
“This is the truth.”
Giacomo continues to look at the monster that now can be seen in its entirety. A composite creature: black, heavy, cold, with no apparent odor.
“Until when will you stay with me?”
“When you aren’t afraid anymore, I will disappear.”
Silence. Then:
“I don’t want you to disappear. And I don’t want to be afraid.”
“You’re growing up, Giacomo.”
“Promise me you’ll always be with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Promise you’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Will you still be afraid of me tomorrow?”
Giacomo nods.
“Then I’ll be here.”
Ideas for a tall story 