Iâm Michele, Michele Amitrano. Iâm not a â¦â I murmured and leaned against the wall and slid down to the ground and he got up, stretched out his arms towards me like a leper asking for alms and he stayed up for a few moments, then took one step and fell down, on his knees, under the blanket, at my feet.
He touched one of my fingers, whispering.
I let out a yell. As if I had been touched by a disgusting jellyfish, a venomous spider. With that bony little hand, with those long black twisted nails of his.
He was speaking too quietly. âWhat, what did you say?â
âWhat did you say? Iâm dead!â he replied.
âWhat?â
âWhat? Am I dead? Am I dead? Iâm dead. What?â
âSpeak louder. Louder ⦠Please â¦â
He gave a hoarse, voiceless scream, as piercing as a fingernail on a blackboard: âAm I dead? Am I dead? Iâm dead.â
I fumbled for the rope and pulled myself up, kicking out and knocking earth down on him.
But he kept shrieking. âAm I dead? Iâm dead. Am I dead?â
* * *
I pedalled along pursued by horseflies.
And I swore I would never, never go back onto that hill. Never, even if they blinded me, would I speak to that lunatic again.
How on earth could he think he was dead?
Nobody whoâs alive can think theyâre dead. When youâre dead, youâre dead. And you live in heaven. Or maybe in hell.
But what if he was right?
If he really was dead? If they had brought him back to life? Who? Only Jesus Christ can bring you back to life. And no one else. But when you wake up do you know youâve been dead? Do you remember about heaven? Do you remember who you were before? You go mad, because your brain has rotted and you start talking about little wash-bears.
He wasnât my twin and he wasnât even my brother. And papa had nothing to do with him. The slice of meat had nothing to do with him. The saucepan wasnât ours. Mama had thrown ours away.
And as soon as papa came back I would tell him the whole story. As he had taught me. And he would do something.
I had almost reached the road when I remembered the corrugated sheet. I had run away and left the hole open again.
If Felice went back up he would know at once that someone had been there poking his nose where he shouldnât poke it. I couldnât let myself get caught just because I was scared of a loony chained up in a hole. If Felice found out it had been me, he would drag me around by the ear.
Once, Skull and I had got into Feliceâs car. We pretended the 127 was a spaceship. He drove and I shot at the Martians. Felice had caught us and yanked us out, in the middle of the road, pulling us by the ears, like rabbits. We cried our eyes out but he wouldnât stop. Luckily mama had come out and given him a thrashing.
I wished I could leave everything like that, run home andshut myself up in my bedroom and read comics, but I turned back, cursing myself. The clouds had gone and it was scorching hot. I took off my T-shirt and tied it round my head, like an Indian. I picked up a stick. If I met Felice I would defend myself.
I tried not to get any nearer than necessary to the hole, but I couldnât resist looking.
He was kneeling under the blanket with his arm stretched out, in the same position I had left him in.
I felt like jumping on that damned sheet and breaking it in a thousand pieces, but instead I pushed it and covered the hole.
When I got home mama was washing the dishes. She threw the frying pan in the sink. âWell, well, look whoâs back!â
She was so angry her jaw was quivering. âWhere on earth do you get to? You gave me the fright of my life ⦠The other day your father didnât give you a spanking. But this time youâre going to get one.â
I didnât even have time to think up an excuse before she started chasing me. I jumped from one side of the kitchen to the other like a goat
He touched one of my fingers, whispering.
I let out a yell. As if I had been touched by a disgusting jellyfish, a venomous spider. With that bony little hand, with those long black twisted nails of his.
He was speaking too quietly. âWhat, what did you say?â
âWhat did you say? Iâm dead!â he replied.
âWhat?â
âWhat? Am I dead? Am I dead? Iâm dead. What?â
âSpeak louder. Louder ⦠Please â¦â
He gave a hoarse, voiceless scream, as piercing as a fingernail on a blackboard: âAm I dead? Am I dead? Iâm dead.â
I fumbled for the rope and pulled myself up, kicking out and knocking earth down on him.
But he kept shrieking. âAm I dead? Iâm dead. Am I dead?â
* * *
I pedalled along pursued by horseflies.
And I swore I would never, never go back onto that hill. Never, even if they blinded me, would I speak to that lunatic again.
How on earth could he think he was dead?
Nobody whoâs alive can think theyâre dead. When youâre dead, youâre dead. And you live in heaven. Or maybe in hell.
But what if he was right?
If he really was dead? If they had brought him back to life? Who? Only Jesus Christ can bring you back to life. And no one else. But when you wake up do you know youâve been dead? Do you remember about heaven? Do you remember who you were before? You go mad, because your brain has rotted and you start talking about little wash-bears.
He wasnât my twin and he wasnât even my brother. And papa had nothing to do with him. The slice of meat had nothing to do with him. The saucepan wasnât ours. Mama had thrown ours away.
And as soon as papa came back I would tell him the whole story. As he had taught me. And he would do something.
I had almost reached the road when I remembered the corrugated sheet. I had run away and left the hole open again.
If Felice went back up he would know at once that someone had been there poking his nose where he shouldnât poke it. I couldnât let myself get caught just because I was scared of a loony chained up in a hole. If Felice found out it had been me, he would drag me around by the ear.
Once, Skull and I had got into Feliceâs car. We pretended the 127 was a spaceship. He drove and I shot at the Martians. Felice had caught us and yanked us out, in the middle of the road, pulling us by the ears, like rabbits. We cried our eyes out but he wouldnât stop. Luckily mama had come out and given him a thrashing.
I wished I could leave everything like that, run home andshut myself up in my bedroom and read comics, but I turned back, cursing myself. The clouds had gone and it was scorching hot. I took off my T-shirt and tied it round my head, like an Indian. I picked up a stick. If I met Felice I would defend myself.
I tried not to get any nearer than necessary to the hole, but I couldnât resist looking.
He was kneeling under the blanket with his arm stretched out, in the same position I had left him in.
I felt like jumping on that damned sheet and breaking it in a thousand pieces, but instead I pushed it and covered the hole.
When I got home mama was washing the dishes. She threw the frying pan in the sink. âWell, well, look whoâs back!â
She was so angry her jaw was quivering. âWhere on earth do you get to? You gave me the fright of my life ⦠The other day your father didnât give you a spanking. But this time youâre going to get one.â
I didnât even have time to think up an excuse before she started chasing me. I jumped from one side of the kitchen to the other like a goat
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