Waiters
The letter
Only M. knows the truth. Or part of it.
What I know is that we don’t have much time to loose, since the guy will come here in minutes. M. rushed into the hotel with her grey bag, scared enough to hide. But if S. would find her first he would have a probability to understand something more. How they’d say? He will put a new piece of the puzzle in the right place.
A chaotic walz
Waiters and men with straw hats share the ground floor with elegant women. Not to eat, that’s clear. After all, this is the kind of place people book for the soft slippers in room and in swimming pool. Don’t carry anything else here but your quei soldi.
Escape from metropolis
It’s not just this place alone, you’ll able to find tons of places like this in the countryside, with tons of people from the metropolis in it. Far from the city, they can have all commodities at hand and, at the same time, slowly pollute and destroy what they already polluted and destroyed in the city, before. They had to cut some trees and they got the water the characteristic grey colour, but having a bath in a nice swimming pool has its own price.
Waiters and waiters
They don’t stop with a mere swimming pool, here. No, there is a feeding line filling the main room with waiters, all hopping from one foot to the other keeping in balance heavy metal trays. You can find everything on top of that trays, from exotic fruits to soul’s brandy. It’s a never ending chain that line, a roller coaster of food.
Human domino!
Oh, it would be just magic to trip this woman with the dark fur and let her stumble. Oh, would be amazing seeing her falling to the ground carrying all the others with her. A human domino about which tomorrow all the newspapers will speak!
Here she is!
Wait a second, here she is, M. I can spot her red shoes. S. doesn’t see her, yet, but she’s there, just across the room close to that man with round ears. No, he cannot see her, in this chaotic rendez- vous of trays and food. You have to be a pair of shoes sometimes to spot some details. But she spotted him, anyways, and now is watching him from behind a plastic plant, asking to herself.
It’s not a song, but a genuine question. And even from here I can feel an answer coming from somewhere
It’s not him you have to be afraid of, but the man that entered in your room crashing your door. This man with moustaches will be your solution
That voice
That voice seemed to have the power of calm her down. She’s actually got a point on being afraid, what a way to sveglio running from your own window! Sink or swim, she must take a risk, but in her own way. She suddenly start scribbling fast in a piece of paper.
The food wheel of waiters is still going on, but here there is a waiter with empty hands.
Grab him!
Sorry, are you available?
Actually, no. I’m going to take an order…
Excellent, take my order. Do you see that man with pointy moustaches?
Y-yes
Amazing, you must give this piece of paper directly to him. It’s a matter of life or… Never mind, take this money and go
And suddenly two piece of paper makes the waiter smile and utter a:
Thank you
But before he finished to thank her, M. is already crowd, part of this circular chatting, coming and going, of this room- service order of things.
Surprise!
Hi, I have a message for you
S. shows his best genuine surprised face. All his attention taken from the research of M., he didn’t even see the waiter coming. He takes the letter from him which, without saying anything, disappears in the eating- assembly- line. S. doesn’t have a chain or a line to disappear in anymore. He lean against the counter and starts reading.
We have met before, not long ago. You are a dealer of souls and I’m a doctor. What you are searching for is a white soul, even though I don’t know why. Right, I want to make a deal with you. I’m not interested in the soul, I will keep it until I reach the Well of Souls. I’m heading there right now. If you really care about your soul, keep me safe from the huge man who’s following me. After I will reach the well, you’ll have your soul back. If you agree with me write grab a white rose from a vase and pin to your jacket, I will see you.
I hope one day we will meet again in normal circumstances.
Good luck,
M.
A white rose!
S. tears the letter apart and throws it in the waist bin under the counter. Now he goes in a rush to the first table where an old couple is playing cards and takes one of the white roses from the vase. She’s still watching him? This flowers don’t need to have any colour, as they don’t have any odore così familiare. That faded long time ago, while they let them travel inside a fridge as they were steaks.
What do you think you’re doing, young man?
The old woman is shocked, how dare him stealing a rose from her vase? The husband in front of her take the chance to cheat and watch her cards.
Fast, fast!
S. doesn’t care, he just look around hoping she’d seen him. Suddenly, the huge guy enters in the room, with his hat still lowered over his eyes. There’s not much time, he needs to get rid of him. But how? First things first, now he needs to go out, out in the un mondo, out from this chain, in the countryside. Without swimming pools and food lines. Where the trees still sing.
La storia sarà pubblicata una volta a settimana e tutti i diritti della storia e relative traduzioni sono riservati a Flyingstories.org e nella persona di Daniele Frau.
Tutte le grafiche sono fatte a mano, realizzate con tecniche differenti da Gabriele Manca, DMQproductions, che ne detiene i diritti.
All English articles published in Souls (alive) proofread by Elisabeth Corcoran
