Stories
Gratuito
I never thought fleeing tyranny to the land of the free would be as restricting and unwelcoming as this, stripping my name and soul from me in the name of freedom.
The large wooden crate crashed to the ground with astronomical force, a plume of smoke rising and clouding the already nearly suffocating air in the crowded marketplace. I felt my calloused hands ache and ears ring from the noise and chaos, the sun seemed to seep through the woven Mexican serape and soak into my torched skin. The day was nearly over, I observed, as I wiped my sweat soaked forehead with a stained red bandana.
“Victor, shift’s over.” Grumbled the farmer, waiting for the last crowd of late shoppers to buy his produce before he could pack his stand and take his truck back home. I sighed with relief, thankful that he hadn’t gotten other interactions with his boss, it was a blessing itself that I was given work, work that wouldn’t break me. My new “American” name was the least of my worries.
The sun beat down on my head, my black hair not helping to cool me down from the relentless Kentucky weather. I missed my home, mountainous cliffs dropping to turquoise blue seas, and the sweet Mediterranean breeze, but I was free in Kentucky. The street corner rounded and I saw my home, water damaged, a yellowing ceiling that caved in, threatening to collapse at any moment, crafting an impromptu skylight. The blind old woman sat by the entrance of the office, undisturbed. Her presence reminded me of my mother who would spend hours by the river when I was a child, singing me Friuli and Emilia-Romagna, her voice carrying and flowing like the water. I smiled and ducked into the small doorway to my home.
Some time passed before there was a knock on the small wooden door, seeming to rattle and echo through the whole house. I approached the door, remembering to peek to see who was there, having already learned my lesson from my first interaction when I moved here. I stared at the broad and harsh faces of three men I had never seen before, yet I felt an unknown force push me to open the door. Anxiety raced through me as the door creaked and I feared it would fall of the hinges.
One of the larger men saw the opportunity and forced the door inwards, pushing me back and entering my home. The statue la nostra signora dei dolori shook, nearly tipping over when walls shook from force. After they all filled in I noticed the distinct red paint being tracked in, leaving bloody red boot prints on my cement floors. Words had been painted over my walls and windows, marking me for what I was.
Ginzo
Goombah
I couldn’t read the rest before I was ripped away from the door by the back of my collar. I stood face to face with a hulk of a man. He was a fair amount taller than I was, with straight blond hair, buzzed so short he seemed to have been electrocuted. His eyes squinted as he pulled me closer to his face, staring me down. It wasn’t long until I was thrown on the floor, knocking my wind out.
“C’mon boys, where’s that rope?” Said the smaller one of the three, shifting from foot to foot. I couldn’t tell if he was anxious or overly eager. The realization hit me and sank to my throat like a bullet of lead. My hand instinctively wrapped around my neck. I scrambled to my
feet and held my hands up defensively, showing I had no weapons in hopes of no violence.
“No, no, there no need for rope. You are wrong.” I muttered, cursing myself for the barrier between us, making us appear to be from different worlds. The men just stepped closer, mocking my accents and snickering to each other.
“Oh, Vito, I think you the one that’s wrong, ya filthy ginzo. See, we’re doing our town a service, we’re trying to keep it nice and clean from your type.” the larger man growled at me, sinking down to my level, his hands tightened around the rope. There were fragments of bark lodged into the fibers, in that moment I understood why I had never seen any of my neighbours. The shorter man pulled out a switchblade, waving it tauntingly in front of my face.
“No need for rope, huh?” he snickered.
I immediately scrambled to my feet and ripped out the door, leaving my home and belongings. I hastily opened the door to my car, the rusty door squeaking in protest as I swung the door open and closed in quick progression. Thankfully I had my keys, I turned the engine over, and backed out of the dirt driveway before the large men could catch up with me. I noticed them running after my car down the street, hooting and swinging the rope in a circle around their heads. For a moment I was scared they would lasso my car and bring me back against my will, leaving me hung up like a christmas ornament in a tree for everyone to see. As if a big sign was around my neck that said in big bold letters “No Ginzos Allowed!” But I kept driving, I kept driving until I didn’t have gas, then I would get gas and drive more. I was afraid that no matter where I stopped they would find me.
I concluded my trip in Washington, transfixed by the Columbia gorge. The breeze flew through my hair and left my ears cold, the wind was salty and sweet and I felt something swell inside me. That was where I was supposed to be, that was where I would fight to be, my new home. My gratuito.
One
It’s not like I ever planned on leaving home, to try to forgot who I am completely and have everyone else who knew me do the same, I never wanted to end up like this. I never wanted secrets to consume who I was. I still have no idea where I am. I don’t really remember who I was or where I came from before I was here. Basic information, name, age, favorite things, personality, all of that is still there, but I guess it’s no use. Looking down at my watch I count how long I’ve been here. 1, no, 2 hours.
My feet were getting more sore with each step, and that unreachable shadow, just beyond a misty tree, seemed to just get further and further away. I didn’t want to know what was beyond what I could see. I could see up to that tree a couple hundred feet away, but beyond that it was a void. The sky above me spoke a different story though. The clouds were a light grey that complemented the dark violet sky that harbors them. It wasn’t dark nor light, but that time that’s in the middle of when a sunset starts to die away, where you could look away in just a second and you’d be enveloped by an inky black night.
It was cold, it feels like it always has been. The ground whined under my feet, seeming as I was in an old staircase instead of an open field. The grass had died long ago, no life looked to be here, but the single tree I could see was bent and warped with its branches stretching out for help. It seemed more human and alive than I felt in this moment. A breeze would pass by every so often, chilling and sharp, I pulled my scarf up to my nose on instinct. Leaves danced through the wind but stayed in place. This whole place seemed to move to its own soundtrack that I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t move if I couldn’t hear it for myself. There was nothing near me but a puddle and dead grass.
I understand by now that the walking is futile, I move as if I was on a treadmill, my body moving, but the scenery staying still around me. I was bound to no destination. Like a glitch in a game.
Stopping by a puddle close by I get to see the first glimpse of myself. Unrecognizable, I never remember seeing myself. Messy grey hair that flipped up around and under my ears, creating waves and ripples all about my head. Dark brown eyes, shadows cast over my face showing all the nights of sleep I never got, pink nose, dull lips. I studied my face, I look older than 17, my face is worn, shadows under my eyes, a gloom look.
My gaze is broken when a shadow moves across the puddle, startling me once it catches my eye. The shadow was oddly human and animalistic for being in a puddle, it moved as if it was on a screen. I quickly walk back, wanting to get away from that goddamn puddle.
How the hell did that get there? That tree was far, far away. It couldn’t have moved, trees just don’t uproot themselves and plop down wherever they want. I needed to get out of here quick, there’s no time left, I’ve been here too long.
The ground seemed to move all at once as if a spell was broke that made the world stop. I felt as if a great swell of time has passed all at once, before it has felt like I had just got here. When did I get here? I looked at my watch again, 1, no 2 hours ago. I sighed.
“I should at least take advantage of this.” Continuing to march on, my body screaming with soreness, my head buzzing. The pain seemed to grow with each step, I couldn’t continue any longer. My knees buckled and I fell to the ground. Metal scrapping and mashing together, flashing lights that blinded my mind, I couldn’t think about anything else. The noise was all I could hear but it wasn’t there.
The clouds circled around my head like vultures, as if they too were alive. The sky changed to a black, yet it still wasn’t dark. It was silent, oddly so, I could see the branches moves and leaves fall. My body seemed to reject itself, burning but was cold all at once. I wanted to scream but no noise would come out. That until I saw a tall figure walk towards me and stop fight above my head.
His eyes were a golden brown that was rare to see in a person such as him. He had a wicked smile under his crooked nose, it seemed broken in multiple places. Blonde hair, he was stunning. His legs were long, abnormally so. . . He looked otherworldly.
I could easily trust him upon first meeting him, they say that with serial killers. They’re always uncharitably charismatic. The look in his eyes was shallow, you couldn’t see much behind what he put up in front of you.
He had a sense of authority, he posed himself in a way where he knew everything about this place that I knew so little about. I could only wince and hope to god that I could get out of here, away from these memories. I don’t even know if they are memories, nonetheless mine. My body was detached from whatever I was experiencing. I have no recollection of who I was before I was here, how the hell would I know whether or not I went through this. I needed help, I wanted him to help me from this pain.
“I. . . I remember lights, bright, bright lights. A car hit us, my mom and me.” I stopped to collect my thoughts, I scrunch my eyes together, everything was so fuzzy. “I remember being in the hospital, the nurses wheeling me to a room and,” The words just came out of my mouth without me ever wanting them to, I didn’t know I had spoke until I finished. He held his hand up for me to stop and crouched down next to me.
“Shh, Luca, I know. Calm down” his voice was soothing, his eyes seemed cold though, despite the warm hues of them. I was lost, I had no idea where I was, no idea who I was, yet somehow, he did. He chuckled, understanding my confusion.
“How do you know my name?” His smile just grew as he shook his head.
“I know many things kid, I guess you can say I’ve been around for a while.”
His grin grew as he placed his hand on my head before straightening his stance. I looked at him shocked, all at once the pain left my body. What godly power was this and how? My mind pieced everything together all at once and I had a sense of where I was, and who I was before this. No, this couldn’t be.
“I don’t mean to be rude and all, seeing as you kinda just like, performed some freaky magic trick on me, but where are we? And who are you?” I studied his face, slowly sitting up. He offered a hand to help me up on my feet.
“Well, welcome to the underworld kiddo. My name is beelzebub.”
I stood up completely, cracking my back before the shock hit me. I was dead.
Two
“Wait, are you telling me your name is beelzebub?”
“That is what I just introduced myself as.”
“Like, satan, lucifer, the devil, you’re telling that that’s your name?”
“I have been called many names over quite some time.” I was shocked. I just stared at him for a while before finally breaking it. He motioned for me to follow him with a simple hand wave. I complied, I wouldn’t want to find out what he would do if I resisted. If this “man” is who he says he is, his reputation is something that proves that anyone would fear who he is and what he is capable of.
I followed blindly into the void, things moved and the scenery passed us by. He seemed to control this realm, and I was helplessly staying in place for hours.
“How long have I been here?” I looked around as we walked straight into that ebony black void. It was more of a cloud, a smoke that made my lungs burn when I inhaled.
“Time is hard in the underworld, it has its own time system.” He paused, continuing to walk. “With no sun or moon, you can’t use the conventional way to tell time. To answer your previous question however, you have been here for nearly a day, in place.” I raised my hand to signal that I needed to say something but he spoke before I could.
“You see, I’m a very busy man, I am so very sorry that I wasn’t able to guide you sooner. Trust me, I haven’t got all day, but my assistants seem to be absent.” The sincerity in his voice wasn’t there, it was as if I was a burden. Maybe I was exaggerating.
The smell of sulfur got stronger, as well as the smoke. He knew where he was going despite how dark and vast the void was, there was no rhyme or reason to where we were going. My lungs were burning and I was coughing up a storm, only aggravating them further with each rattle. Beelzebub was fine though, he has probably been through here so many times that his lungs have gotten use to it, that or he’s always been used to this. Despite saying that his assistants usually guide people to wherever we’re going, he seems to know where he is, like the land is guiding him through, not him guiding us through it.
We stopped and he rattled through the pockets of his suit vest, sighing. He checked his blazer, then his slacks. He smiled in relief once his hand made its way to his hip, finding the key ring on his belt loop. Taking the key ring off the loop, he flipped through the keys, landing on an old silver skeleton key. He reached out in front of him, placing the key into an unseen keyhole. In one swift motion he opened a door I did not see until then, showing me a lamp-lit lounge room.
I quickly moved into the room, pulling my sweater closer to my body and examined the room. It wasn’t well lit, yet not dark. Everything seemed to be that way here. It seems like I was in an era that was the mix of Victorian and 1920s, but I couldn’t quite understand everything in the room.
Of course there were bookshelves, with trinkets, books, foreign objects that I have no clue what they are, even to this day. As I moved to the shelves, beelzebub removed his jacket, delicately rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. The room was decorated with raspberries, burgundies, and golds, deep purples. It screamed royalty. I could hear his footsteps across the room as I stood transfixed by all that was around me.
Haphazardly sitting himself down on an old deep raspberry colored velvet chair, he cleared his throat to get my attention.
“Now, everyone does die for a reason, yet, though it may not seem so, your death has been rather significant.” he quickly darted out his tongue and swiped it across his lips, as his he had been talking for a long time and his mouth was dry.
“A mother has been grieving her son, blaming the whole car wreck on herself,” my heart sank when he mentioned my mother. Sure, in life she would constantly crawl on my back about who I was, what I read, what I believed in. She may have not been ready to have kids, or never really want any, but I couldn’t help but feel bad for her.
“You may not realize it, but you were and are more important than you would ever care to realize. Kids and teachers at your school are silent in shock, your friends are torn. Heh, the school had a moment of silence for you.” he chuckled at his last remark. He paused and grabbed set down the file that was on his lap onto the golden table.
“And to think, all of that was just in the mortal world.”
“What are you getting at with this.”
“What I am getting at is that in your pitiful mortal life you wasted it away by loathing yourself and others. You may not realize this, but you have a gift that is awakening this very moment. As we speak monsters and ungodly creatures are coming out of the depths and dying,” he snapped his fingers, staring me dead in the eyes.
“Just like that.” A shiver ran down my spine.
“Am I correct that you practiced witchcraft when you were alive?”
“Yeah, why?”
“She’ll be pleased. You see, when mortals practice such crafts and become very skilled in them, that only grows once they move on, so to speak.”
