Welcome to the Spot Writers. This month’s prompt is to write a story involving one or more of the following: a pumpkin, a cold wind, rustling leaves, a scarecrow, candy wrappers, someone in costume.
This week’s contribution comes from Chiara De Giorgi. Chiara is an
Italian author and currently lives in Berlin, Germany. She writes fiction, with
a focus on children’s literature and science fiction.
Goodnight, my love
(an Elsa Mon story)
by Chiara De Giorgi
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| created with ecogpt |
The haunted house had never looked so inviting.
Elsa stood on the porch, arms crossed, admiring the evening’s work.
Pumpkin lanterns grinned from the windowsills, their carved faces giving off a
warm, flickering orange light. Paper bats dangled from the eaves, and a ragged
banner fluttered gently in the cold wind. Lydia, the moody teenager who
attended Elsa’s creative writing class, had painted it with smudged letters
that read: CANDY HERE. NO BITE MARKS GUARANTEED. She sat on the porch
steps, black lipstick, black nails, black everything, sketching ravens in a
notebook. Behind them, the Stranger shifted forms absently: a tall gentleman in
Victorian mourning clothes, a black cat, a rickety skeleton…
Inside, the Squatters drifted near the front hall. The house’s
resident ghosts loved Halloween for obvious reasons: on that night, the living
came knocking at their door joyful rather than fearful. Zinny, the Tibetan
monk, made his copper bowl vibrate at regular intervals, blending the sound
with the creaking pipes in a way that Tony, Al Capone’s plumber, described as
‘charmingly haunting.’
In the parlor, Sister Elena sat in silence. She had mixed feelings
about the Halloween celebration and would wait until the trick-or-treaters had
left before enjoying the leftover candy.
The first kids came at dusk. A little dragon, a bedsheet ghost, a very small mummy being pulled along by an older sister dressed as a vampire… The Stranger answered the door as a lanky, old butler wearing long white gloves, and handed out candy with a frown and a grumble. Lydia did scary whispers. Elsa supervised everything, her eyes sparkling with delight for the privilege of celebrating Halloween in such a special way.
Then, near eight o’clock, when the porch had gone quiet, a scarecrow
came up the path. He was small. Seven or eight years old, strands of straw were
sticking out of his sleeves, and he was wearing a patchwork quilted hat. He
walked slowly; he had no parents to accompany him, nor a plastic pumpkin-shaped
bucket to collect candy.
“Hey kid, you want candy?” Lydia winked at him. “We’ve got the good
stuff left.”
The scarecrow boy shook his head. He stopped at the bottom of the
steps and looked up at Elsa with very serious eyes.
“I’m not here for candy,” he said. “I'm looking for Sister Elena.”
The porch went dead quiet and a moment later Sister Elena appeared
in the doorway, her habit billowing in the breeze. She stared down at the boy… Her
eyes widened, and her eyebrows shot up when she recognized him. “Matteo?!”
The boy’s whole face lit up. “Sister!” he cried. He ran up the steps
and threw his skinny arms around the plump nun.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “The last time I saw you, you
were knee-high to a grasshopper! You’ve grown so much... but then again, not
that much. What’s happened to you?”
“I found you,” Matteo said, not answering her questions. “I looked
everywhere. I looked for such a long time.”
Sister Elena sat down on the porch steps and patted the spot next to
her, inviting Matteo to do the same. Then she motioned to Elsa, Lydia, and the
Stranger, who was uncharacteristically still and silent, to sit down nearby as
well.
“He was left at the convent door,” Sister Elena explained. “A
newborn, in the middle of January, wrapped in a wool blanket. I named him
Matteo. I raised him until he was four. Then a good family from Cremona,
farmers, adopted him. I gave him my blessing…”
Matteo fumbled at his costume and drew out a rosary, its wooden
beads worn pale and shiny from handling.
“And my rosary…” she whispered.
“I still have it; I kept it the whole time. On the farm, and… after.
I was going to give it back, but you weren’t at the convent anymore. So I kept
looking.”
“How did you find me here, little one?”
“I heard a kid at school talk about the haunted house at the
outskirts of town. He said it as a joke but…” Matteo grinned. “But I thought…
maybe?”
He held the rosary out with both hands, and Sister Elena accepted it
with a lump in her throat. Then she asked, “Tell me: what happened to you? How
come you only lived to be… how old? Seven? Eight?”
“Seven and a half,” the boy replied, puffing his chest. “I slipped
into the river. The water was cold, and I got sick.” He shrugged. “I got
pneumonia and died. No big deal.”
The nun hugged him with a chuckle. “No big deal,” she said.
“You’ve always been a sweet, cheerful kid.”
At that moment, the aroma of roasted potatoes tickled the noses of
everyone on the porch.
“How about we celebrate with something delicious?” Mercy, the pirate
cook, asked, carrying a tray piled high with steaming potatoes.
Everyone cheered and attacked the potatoes, sharing stories about
their deaths as they ate.
“That was de-li-cious!” Matteo said, wiping his mouth. “But now… I
must go.” He looked at Sister Elena. “I wanted to see you one last time, but…
I’m late, you know.”
Sister Elena patted him on the head. “You are not late, tesoro.
You are exactly on time.”
A bright light appeared in front of them, and Matteo pointed at it,
casting a questioning glance at Sister Elena. She nodded.
“Happy Halloween, everyone!” the boy said, then stepped into the
light and set off down the luminous path. When he turned to wave goodbye,
smiling happily, they all had tears in their eyes.
“Buona notte,” Sister Elena whispered. “Goodnight, my love.”
