Slowly going up

It's still dark when the bus stops in front of the minuscule train station and she starts doubting again that being there it's not a good idea. Someone, in his need to get down at this stop decides for her pushing her gently toward the doors. Surprised, she just get off the bus and keeps going forward, passed by more determined former bus passengers, stopping just before entering the station itself. After a couple deep breaths she turns around and looks at the village square for the first time in a little more than twenty years.

It's so early and cold only a few places are open: the greengrocer (he is unloading fresh fruit and veggies from his truck), the newsstand, the bar and the station seems to be the only places alive. But something else is alive here: the sea. She hasn't been near the sea since when she lived here, hasn't listened to it, hasn't smelled it, hasn't seen it. Yes, she had her eyes closed for the last hour of the bus ride, she wanted her village sea to be the first sea she saw.

Pushing her backpack up she moves toward the promenade, she had a few hours to spend down here before she could go up, up there. So she sits on a bench on the promenade, well, on the new one as this isn't the one she remembers, they did renovate it: wider, surely nicer, but still not the one she is used to, one of the many things she wasn't used to she had to adapt in the last few years.  So she sits there, on a new unfamiliar bench, far away from the harbour where some of the older fishermen may still recognize her. She sits there, looking at the sea or at her tennis shoes, trying not to think too much about things she can't change anymore. The life she hears behind her is almost the same as twenty years ago, some people going the bar - newsstand - station route, a greetings there a joke here, others, mostly women, visiting, chatting and gossiping with the greengrocer or in the shops that opened in the meantime. For a few minutes the chaos kids going to the nearby school naturally brings with them fills the square. Many cellphone ringing here and there the biggest difference from her memories.

The pale winter sun is finally high enough to have warmed her up a little and the square is now almost empty after the early morning rush. She pats her legs awake, get up, tugs her coat, secure her wool hat on her head and her almost empty backpack on her shoulder, exhale and then she starts her slow climb.
She try to keep her eyes down, she walked and run up and down these small streets so many times, alone or in good company, even when she wasn't here, that she don't really need to see the street to climb it and then, then there is nothing nice for her to see now. All the windows closed, the smaller pots no more on the sills, the bigger ones just empty: the cold winter defeated them all.
She reach the little church, and find it closed. The old priest, her only contact with the village died a several years ago and the new one had no reason to really keep up the only correspondence she had. She still stops there, resting her right hand on the old wooden door. She knew the priest wouldn't be there today but still hoped to find the little church open, to pray there again while listening to the sea. After a couple minutes she get back to her climb.
It takes her little time to reach the gate of the white house, she stops there and, slowly, she gets out a  letter from her backpack and starts reading it. She really has no need to read it, she know it by heart, it is the reason she came here today.

Giovanni wrote her, again. He finally found Granny's pink brooch, the only thing she asked of Granny's things after she died a few months ago, and to invite her for her first grandchildren christening, still sad and wondering why she didn't came to his wedding and Granny's funeral.
Ad that's why she was there today, in front of her old house, sure the door key will be in the second pot on the left window, sure that there will be no one home. Because she didn't want, she didn't deserve to meet her son Giovanni or his wife Anna and even more so she didn't deserve to see her grandchildren being christened Antonio in that same moment. Little poor Antonio that would never meet his namesake grandfather, her husband Antonio that she killed twentytwo years ago.

This is obviously a sequel to Running to the sea... these past days/weeks, while I wanted to write something I had no idea what to write but today i reread that and finally got an idea...

At pier's end

This come to my mind abruptly, today, and had to be written.


At pier's end


I can see her, she's on the pier, like many times before tonight, past the boats resting in the marina, past the empty benches, she's at pier's end. She can't or does't want to see me.
She came here after our last quarrel, the last one of a long series. I will not say that she's the one being wrong, not always at least.
She often comes here when she need some quiet time, after our quarrels to calm down or just when she need to think. She often said me she loves to look at the sea, wondering what is or could be hidden under the waves.
She seems tired, panting like after a great struggle, like she carried here more than the nasty words we traded at home.
I should know, i'm just floating toward the seabed, a kitchen knife in my chest, at pier's end.

The letter and (sad) spirit of the law

Someway today i was bitten by the writing bug, that was while driving home from saturday shopping... so i've spent the afternoon reading a little about how U.K, law are formatted and writing this..

Part one: the letter of the law.

Muggle Children Future Protection Act 1904

An Act to make provision for the welfare and future of muggleborn minors and the recognition of the parental authority of their muggle relatives and guardians; to make provision for a complete knowledge of the new society their charges enter and let them make an informed decision about their future; to make provision for the consequences of said decision.

Be it enacted by the King most excellent Majesty and with the advice of the Lords Magical and Spirituals and the Wizengamot, in this present assembled and by the authority of the same, as follows.

1. Muggle parental authority recognition and rationale of the law
   1. The Wizard Society recognizes the parental authority of muggle parents or guardians as legally appointed (from now known as Parental Figures) over muggleborn minors. Until the minor is of age the Parental Figures have the final word in their charges life choices.
   2. The age considered to establish the minor status is the one established by Wizard laws for Wizard and Witches.
   3. To exercise their right Parental Figures need to know not only how the Wizard Society works but, even more, how their charges are adapting and integrating. This body recognize that many muggleborn minors often omit and hide a great part of their experiences from their Parental Figures.
      
      
      
2. Wizard Inspection of Full Experience
   1. A procedure to give a precise and complete knowledge of the current wizard life of muggleborn minors to his or her Parental Figures and let them decide on the Minor stay in Wizard Society is created as stated by the following provisions:
   2. The procedure will be known as “Wizard Inspection of Full Experience”, in short W.I.F.E.
   3. The W.I.F.E. execution shall make use of extreme security procedures and provisions as it will determine the entire future and well being of a minor.
   4. The parties involved in the execution of W.I.F.E. are:
      1. The muggle Parental Figure (or Figures) requiring said W.I.F.E. execution ;
      2. The muggleborn Minor for which the W.I.F.E. execution is required
      3. A Representative for the Ministry of Magic.
      4. A Potion Master qualified for the administration of Veritaserum as mandated by the Veritaserum Act of 1502
   5. Any muggle Parental Figure may require, at any time, the execution of the W.I.F.E. procedure for any muggleborn Minor he or she is in charge of. Said request shall be addressed to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to the attention of the Underage Affairs Office.
   6. Acknowledging that said Parental Figures may not be proficient with wizard communication means and could find difficulties in reaching the Ministry by wizard means, that request for the execution of W.I.F.E. will be accepted by said office in the widest way as for the medium and wording of the request, being those of wizard or muggle origin.
   7. Any other Ministry department receiving a communication that could be considered a W.I.F.E. procedure request shall reroute said request to the Underage Affairs Office and shall not refuse or discard said it.
   8. The Underage Affairs Office worker in charge of the W.I.F.E. execution shall name a Ministry Representative.
   9. The Representative shall act as go-between between the muggle Parental Figures and the muggleborn Minor to better the understanding by said Parental Figures of the new society the Minor is becoming part of during the execution of the W.I.F.E. procedure.
   10. The Underage Affairs Office worker may name any able adult wizard or witch subject to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland law as Ministry Representative. As in most cases the Minor will be a student at some magical school it is suggested that the Representative should be the Parental Figure of a classmate of said Minor.
   11. The Underage Affair Office worker shall name the Potion Master in charge of the Veritaserum use.
   12. If not already Ministry Officials, the Representative and the Potion Master shall sign a Non Disclosure Agreement to not divulge anything learned during the proceeding of the W.I.F.E execution and to respect any decision the Parental Figures will make.
   13. The Underage Affairs Office shall schedule for the W.I.F.E. execution within 30 (thirty) working days of the reception of the request and shall promptly notify the parties involved.
   14. The notification to the muggle Parental Figures shall be made by muggle means.
   15. The notification to the muggleborn Minor shall be charmed with a compulsion charm keyed to the age of the Minor to ensure the collaboration of said Minor to the execution of the W.I.F.E. procedure.
       
       
       
3. Execution of the W.I.F.E procedure.
   1. The execution of the W.I.F.E. procedure shall be performed in a warded room in the Ministry of Magic in any of its current venues. The ward should bar any magic but potions and any form of physical harm in said room.
   2. Before entering the designated room the Minor shall surrender his or her wand to the Representative for the duration of the W.I.F.E. procedure.
   3. The Representative shall explain to the Minor and to the Parental Figures the nature of the W.I.F.E. procedure and how full disclosure to the Parental Figures will only be in the Minor future and well being interest.
   4. The Potion Master shall examine the Minor to establish and administer the lowest dose of Veritaserum needed by the Minor as for the Veritaserum Act of 1502. During the following questioning the Potion Master shall keep checking the Minor health for any adverse effect by the serum.
   5. The Potion Master shall ask the Minor if he or she is in posses of any potion and shall establish if said potions may pose a threat to the execution of the W.I.F.E procedure. Should dangerous potion be unveiled the Potion Master shall destroy them immediately.
   6. The muggle Parental Figures and only the muggle Parental Figures may proceed to ask questions to the muggleborn Minor. The Representative may suggests questions to the muggle Parental Figures.
   7. Only when the Parental Figures declare to have concluded their questioning the Representative shall ask one question to the Minor, this question being: “Are there any experiences in your stay in Wizard Society that you haven't mentioned to them, today or in any other occasion, that could influence in any way the decision of your Parental Figures ?”. This question may be reworded in any way the Representative believe would be better understood by the Minor. After the Minor answers the Parental Figures may ask more questions.
   8. Due to the potential length of the questioning, but at the undisputed judgment of the Potion Master, supplemental doses of Veritaserum may be administered to the Minor.
   9. Once the questioning is terminated the Potion Master shall administer the Veritaserum Antidote and examine the Minor for any adverse effect.
   10. Once the questioning is terminated the Parental Figures shall be left alone with the Minor in the warded room where they shall come to a decision regarding the future of the Minor stay in Wizard society.
   11. The decision have to be made inside that room to protect the Parental Figures by inconsiderate actions by the Minor were said Minor should not recognize the wisdom of the Parental Figures decision.
   12. Once made their decision the Parental Figures shall inform the Representative of their decision.
       
       
       
4. Conclusion of the W.I.F.E. procedure
1. If the Parental Figures decision is for the Minor to continue his or her life inside the Wizard Society the Minor will be so permitted.
2. If the Parental Figures decision is for the Minor to continue his or her life inside the Wizard Society the Representative shall return the wand to the Minor.
3. If the Parental Figures decision is for the Minor to continue its life inside the Wizard Society the costs of the Veritaserum and its antidote shall be on their account. If the Potion Master is not a Ministry employee his or her honorary shall be on their account.
4. If the Parental Figures decision is for the Minor to continue its life inside the Wizard Society they have the option to ask for the Minor to be obliviated of all the W.I.F.E. execution procedure.
5. If the Parental Figures decision is for the Minor to leave the Wizard society they shall choose how the leaving will be performed as for the Renounce to Magic Law of 1203. The Representative shall help the Parental Figures to choose in the interest of the Minor future. Accounting for the age of minors the suggested solution shall be complete obliviation as for provision 5.3 of the Renounce to Magic Law of 1203.
6. If the Parental Figures decision is for the Minor to leave the Wizard society they may choose to be obliviated of any experience and contact they ever had with the Wizard society as an alternative they may ask to be Imperiused to never reveal the existence of Wizard Society.
7. If the Parental Figures decision is for the Minor to leave the Wizard society any procedure costs will be on Ministry account.
8. The Representative shall report in writing the proceedings of the W.I.F.E. execution to the Underage Affairs Office worker in charge of the procedure within 2 (two) working days.
9. In observance of the “Ministry Worker Regulation Act” of 1644 Representatives are reminded that in the report shall be registered every action any person subject to United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland wizard law that can considered a crime for further investigation.
10. If the decision was for removing the Minor from Wizardry Society minor infractions to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland wizard laws by the Minor shall be condoned in sight of his or her future life long absence from Wizardry Society.
11. If the decision was for removing the Minor from Wizardry Society the Representative shall surrender the Minor's wand to the Underage Affairs Office worker in charge of the procedure for its destruction within 2 (two) working days.

Part two: the (sad) spirit of the law.

Coming home from work in late June Emma and Dan Granger found a quite heavy envelope in their mailbox, Its sender was stated as the "Underage Affair Office".

It was quite an inconspicuous designation but they knew its origin, it came straight out from the Ministry, the Ministry of Magic and it could be the solution of all of their recent concerns about their only daughter.

Already in her first year at Hogwarts, in this incredible and almost unreal Wizardry society they suspected she was lying to them. Just after two months of school, starting around Halloween of that first year, her letters became colder, more guarded and almost standardized. They were sure something big happened but the extraordinary answer they got "I've made two friends, they are great!" would not have been the reason for such changes, or at least not if she just got a couple, ok, her first couple of friends, instead of doing something big, big and wrong with them.

Each month, letter and year was worse and now after her third year at Hogwarts they were absolutely sure that she was hiding something, not just something but a lot and this was driving them crazy and desperate for answers, for the truth!

A couple weeks ago they found themselves reminiscing about a little leaflet, almost hidden in that life changing letter she received three years ago, the letter that changed their life. They went to their home office and found it in Hermione's school related folder: it was a brief explanation, strangely almost in faded black ink while the rest of the letter was bright and colorful explaining about a way to insure that muggle Parental Figures (that would be them) could really know how the life of their charges in Wizardry Society was. They needed to know, they could accept magic, they could accept they daughter not becoming a dentist but they could not accept their daughter becoming a liar!

So they wrote the request for the W.I.F.E. procedures and mailed it to the 64423 PO box, London.

It seemed that the Ministry of Magic worked fast, as the letter was a summon to the Ministry itself, Underage Affair Office, level 5, room 5017 where the W.I.F.E. would be held in a couple days.

"Ok Dan, could you give Hermione her summon, please and tell her the Representative is Lucius Malfoy"

The Paradox

I'm seated alone in a big light grey couch, in front of an unlit fireplace and a led tv above it, in a luxurious cabin in the wood between mountains, with the front wall made almost only by glass.  Depressed by the recent news about the attacks in Paris, reflecting on the nature of humankind i stay there, motionless for some time in the little light dawn is spreading around. With a sight I turn on the tv without really watching it, but in a few minutes a new special edition of the news starts and with some trepidation i give it some attention.
But it is not about Paris, it is not about more death, alien spaceships are quickly approaching earth.

I'm now on a hill, near the city the alien spaceships decided to approach and with the few others that have the ability to fly on our own we start to fly toward the the city.
From the long sharp ships a couple little (in comparison to the ships) vehicles depart.
They are something halfway between advertising balloons and airships and are en route to the city center, where a lot of skyscraper and narrow streets, just a few meters larger than those vehicles are, dominate the city-scape.
I arrive flying in the city just as one of those airships gets trapped in one of the streets. The vehicle is so soft that not even a window of the building it touch is broken, but still the airship comes to a stop.

A couple aliens, very human-like but still different enough to feel alien, exit the airship and enter the otherwise unoccupied and a little run down building through one of the window.
I've entered the building, probably from an open window on the upper levels as I'm now going downstairs to reach the aliens. Suddenly i stop and sit on the stairs and start crying big fat tears, silently sobbing and gulping down each breath.
After a while one of the aliens, a male if you stick to human standards, reach me from the lower floors. He stops and looks at me, before having to answer some communication device and i someway know he is speaking to his father (that is also his commander) that is bothering him for some reason or another. I see/feel/know how annoyed he is by his strict father. Someway he dismiss him and look back at me, wondering and silently asking why I'm crying.
Between sobs i answer that I'm so happy, happy and relieved that i could meet them, that i was always sure that aliens existed but that i thought i would never be able to meet them, I try to explain him the Fermi Paradox. And i keep crying, even if we are now smiling at each other.


A. N.
This is mostly a dream i had just one or two days after the attacks in Paris in November 2015 that i had to write down and now found on my pc.
If you want to know how the alien looked like they were a gentler, less animalesque version of the Thundercats, basically humans with something feline in them.

The Tablecloth Game

It is late summer and the night starts to fall a little earlier each day so there is already some darkness, enough for mystery but not enough for real fear. At the outdoor table a family of four seat: Mum, Dad, the Kid and his Sister.

The end of dinner is approaching and with it the Kid is becoming restless, both for what he hope would happen and for trying to hide its excitement. In a few minutes they could play the Tablecloth Game, their game, only him and his Dad, neither his Sister nor even Mum could play it as only the two of them knew the rules. The first and most important is surprise: it all started as a Dad prank and it have to simulate one now.
At last dinner ends. Mum starts to bring dishes and cutlery away from the outdoor table and Sister is quietly looking around as if searching for someone or something hidden that is calling her, only her. Perfect setup for the Tablecloth Game. Dad takes the pink tablecloth and shake it outside the balcony to toss away the crumbs and, come on, oh come on, yes! Dad does not fold it but with a mischievous smile approaches the Kid that is faking indifference with all of his strength.

So it starts, Dad quickly covers the Kid with the tablecloth and kidnaps him in its arms, spins a few times around and goes downstairs into the garden. He spins around a few more times and walks away trying to distracts the now ghost masquerading Kid with a little tickling. The walk last less than a minute, but under the tablecloth it is much longer and borderline scary.
Then Dad stops and gently puts down the Kid on his feet and ask "Where are we ?"
This is their Game, a little scary blind trip into the garden and then the wonder and little scare of not knowing where he is.

But today the Kid knows the answer, today he knows. Under the tablecloth, today he noticed something, or, to be precise, the lack of something.  There was no rose smell, so they should have turned right after coming down the stairs.  Then, then there was the metallic sound when he was put down and Dad's arms are circling his legs and not his shoulder. He knows.
Many would say that it is not a nice place, someone (Mum will never know, obviously) may even say that it was highly unhygienic, but at the moment it is better than  a throne, a throne on top of the world, just because today HE KNOWS.
Raising the tablecloth over his head, and, if he is lucky it would cover his Dad head he cried "I'm over the garbage can! We are at the garbage can!"
And indeed they were.

Dad, freeing himself from the tablecloth strengthen his hold on the Kid legs and bring him to the floor. The Kid just run away, going back to the stairs and back into the balcony (disrupting his Sister meticulous scan of the neighborhood) and through the door to find Mum to let her know about his success. It would be a long time before he would be able to calm down and go to sleep... something Mum probably would be speaking about to Dad later, with a little glare and a not so little smile.

The new ward

After a few silent months of absence silly inspiration struck and so here we have "The New Ward".  Obviously whatever you recognize is owned by JKR ;-)


She wouldn't tolerate this anymore. She already spent hundreds of pounds in repairs in less than a couple years and could not, well, would not face such expenses again, especially as she wasn't the one responsible for the damage. Yes, yes, in the end she was always refunded but it was a matter of pride and principle now.

And this is the reason she is spending another Sunday in her office in the Department of Mysteries, hidden between old books and sheets of parchment full of notes and diagrams.  Harry and Ron already got preoccupied and tried to get her to spend her Sundays in a better way, "Just sleeping them out would be better" was Ron tactful input to that discussion. She assured them that she needed to do it, that she can't let her Dad gift get ruined as she promised she would not repair it by magic and tinkering too much with it the muggle way would ruin it in the end.

But today would probably be the last Sunday she will spend in this project as the results of her test run of last night were finally a success.
She used a mild disillusion charm on herself and tried her new ward while walking up and down some of the darkest and most drunkard laden streets of London (just don't let Harry and Ron knew about this or she would not hear the end of it) and no one ever got in contact with her, even when she started running straight toward the most drunk of them, they just got more alert, looked straight at her and then moved out of her way.

Yes, the new ward was ready, it was a portable ward combining a couple common charms, a little tweaked Notice Me Not (that now could be really called Notice Me Now) and a wide spectrum sobering charm good against most of the attention lowering causes like sleep, alcohol and drugs. The nature of magic itself would take care of the other main attention thief, no cellphone would work when hit by the ward, at least until it would stay in the affected area.

It was good enough she decided, now she could go home and finally apply it on its intended target. No, no one will ever bump on her car anymore. She may even end up publishing something abut her new Wake Up And Look At Me ward.

Running to the sea

This strange piece got its inspiration from this post from my good friend Lizzie Gudkov and one italian song i like (Il pescatore / The fisherman by Pierangelo Bertoli and Fiorella Mannoia).  So here we have

Running to the sea

The first sun rays reach a tiny two stories house and they are enough to stir some life in it. The little noises of someone getting up and ready in an hurry can be clearly heard. They seems to be the sounds of a lonely life, the shower is used only once and only one cup hit the sink a few minutes later.

A young woman exits the white house and she is almost outside the gate when an afterthought hits her. She go back in the little garden to take a rose then she sprints back to the gate and the street beyond it, Almost running she starts her downhill journey, pushed by some physical need to reach the sea. On her way she is oblivious to the beauty of the village she lives in: oblivious to the gardens and their many flowers, to the scents coming from many lavender bushes and basil plants sprouting all around. Now she is really running, sporting one of her many white sundresses, today is the one with the deep red flowers, more vivid than the rose she is holding in her hand or the carnations adorning most of the windows and balconies all around.  A few of those windows opens at the sound of her passage but no one seeks out for the source of the hurried clogs sound anymore, everyone got used to it many weeks ago.

She reach a small square, just a little more then a hairpin bend and turn toward the church doors grabbing the handle just seconds after the old priest unlock the door. She avoid him by mere inches and goes to the altar where she put her rose in the vase in front of it. She reach the nearest bench and starts to pray, or at least she tries to. She seems to be unable to stay put and keeps stealing little glances toward the little window on her right, where just an hint of the sea is visible. She can't resist anymore and raises herself up, straighten her dress and exits the church restarting her hurried descent while the sleepy priest goes back to his morning rituals after a last look in her direction.

In a couple minutes she reaches the promenade and her first full view of the sea. Here she does her second stop climbing on the low wall dividing the beach from the promenade itself and stares at the sea as if searching for something, something far away.

While she is lost in her search the village comes alive: the newsagent has just finished to put on display the newest magazines and is now approaching the coffee shop bringing a couple newspapers with him and foretasting his first coffee of the day.  Several other shops are opening and restocking the shelves. Between opening a box and moving a sack the owners greet each others and the regulars approaching the nearby minuscule train station.

There is only one place that is already in full swing if not even past its peak hours: the harbor and this is where the young woman is drawn now. She jump back to the walkway and restart her run, her hair wild now, moved by the wind from which she is no more shielded by the houses and the narrow streets of the upper part of the village.

She quickly reaches the harbor, where she don't even notice the smell of fish strong enough to cover the salty sea one. Some of the captains are still negotiating the fish prices with the local restaurants and fisheries owners. This port and its ships are too small to be of any interests to the big industries and so the fish is sold and consumed locally.  No one seems to be surprised by Lucia presence, a couple of the fishermen are almost waiting for her daily visit.  She pass the fish crates as if invisible and goes straight to the ships. She recognize all of them but stops at none and keeps going forward, past the last one, up to the end of the pier, still looking around for something that isn't there. At the pier end she finally stops, lost again in her search. A few of the fishermen, while disembarking from their ship stop for a moment to watch her, some with sadness in their eyes, some appreciating her lovely legs and others falter with a hint of fear in their step and end up being pushed forward by the ones that got used to her presence or had more pressing things to do.

She finally ends her contemplation of the sea with a shiver when a bigger wave spray her a little and with a sigh and a few glances back over her shoulder begins her journey back. One of the older fishermen stops her and they talk a little. With a smile she finally accepts a little plastic bag with some of the best and freshest fish available, "For little Giovanni" he says.

She enters the port authorities offices where today she finds her childhood friend Andrea that gently assures her that there are still no news, his ship is probably still at large, maybe they even decided to extended their expedition to not come home with void hands. She leaves the offices with promises of prompt updates if they'll ever get some. This is a way better result than yesterday, when the career obsessed, newly appointed and posted officer almost threw her out. Before descending the few steps to get back to the pier she rises her eyes to the church bell tower, called here by the 7am bell strokes. Those are the same sounds that awake Giovanni in his little bed and as most of these past mornings he starts crying when his pleas for mummy goes unanswered.  Even if she was already awake it still takes some time to Granny to reach him with her calming hugs.

Lucia is now on her way home, with a second plastic bag in her hand, this one filled with bread and some vegetables she just bought. Halfway on her ascent she meet her mother and Giovanni on their way to the kindergarten. She wonders why he has puffy eyes and seems to be angry at her but a furtive look toward her mother does not brings an answer. "Giovanni, i know. i miss him too but as I've told you he is a fisherman, maybe even the best one around, he has to go fishing even if this time he went far away and for much longer than we are used to. Hear me now", she adds, "this afternoon, after school. we'll go to the harbor together, maybe he'll be back by then." The kid seem to be a little puzzled and looks at his gran as if to seek some explanations but she only shake her head, sighs, take hold of his hand and drag him away.

Lucia arrives at home, starts making herself a coffee and wonders about her mother behavior, it almost seems as if she wanted to scold her for something wrong she said to Giovanni.  A few minutes later she comes home and tells her nothing was wrong, she only noticed they were almost late and had to get going.

The morning goes back to the lazy rhythm of the household chores, completed in almost silence but then the phone rings and Granny rushes to get the call, a call she was expecting, it's her daughter lawyer. Her closed door trial just ended and the result was the one she was told to expect, fifteen years of a criminal mental health clinic, after all Lucia killed Antonio, her own husband.

A gratuitous carrot throw

Old big trees on both sides of the street gave me relief from the hot sun of this summer end that is able to make the humidity of this park sticky.

Just a few steps before i passed one of the inner gates of the park and the difference is very noticeable, here the trees are way higher and older, several decades older.

I'm just taking a walk and strolling at a leisure pace on the left side of the road. Sometimes it's like there is someone silently walking on my left but there is no one i can see.

I often look down, sometimes to avoid a fallen leaf sometimes to purposely crush one under my feet and unexpectedly i notice a carrot, a big, long and dirty carrot laying just a couple step before me.

I grab it and wonder why it is there, maybe it was intended for one of the horses of the coaches you can rent at the entrance.

Having no use for it i gratuitously throw it across the road. But while i was lost in the imagine of a carrot eating horse something happened, a little light green cheap car is coming toward me and the carrot i threw ends under one of the front wheels.

There is a cracking noise when the carrot breaks under it and then the screeching of the car swaying left and right, the frantic movement of the driver trying to regain control of its direction.  With a turn on the right he avoid one of the trees on his side of the road but then, as if scared by one of the trees on my side he abruptly turn on his left and can't do nothing more than crashing on the wall on the side of the gate.

After a few seconds of shocked stillness i run to the car and there is no doubt that the driver is dead, his torso crushed by the impact on the wheel and several wounds from the shattered windshield.

Then something else grab my attention, a little piece of paper that is gently resting on the passenger seat, almost unperturbed by the wreck.

I can't stop myself from reading it:

     No one know what you did and no one ever will, now what will you do ?

       1) You run away and try to forget what happened here

       2) You call the 911 and tell them there was just a car crash

       3) You call the 911 and tell them what really happened

I consider those three choices for a long time while turning around to check the trees around me. If no one saw me who wrote this note ? Why i had and still have this feeling of someone walking by my side. Where did this bastard go ?

At this point with this unsolved big question i awoke from my dream and went around for a couple days with this nasty anxiety keeping my breath a little short.

This pieces comes from two inspiration: a dream i had a few days ago and a word of the day, gratuitous in this case.

The wall calendar

Being at home for some reason, nothing really to do, checking some old files i found the start of this and completed it.

No copyright infringement intended


It was early summer and Grimmaud Place was strangely quiet. In the past few years quiet wasn't anymore the usual state of that house as it was for more than a decade before. During the war, with all the Order members coming and going at every hour and after that with the new, younger and happier gang living there. Officially only Harry, Ron and, surprisingly enough, Neville lived there but many others were there everyday: Hermione, George, Ginny, Dean, Seamus and Luna were the regulars and even had their own rooms. Many more were there less often, as friends or friends of a friend or the S.O. of one of them or, lately, even as a son or a daughter of a friend.

Sometimes Harry retreated in the kitchen, especially when things went a little out of hand. That room was no more the center of the heavily renovated Grimmaud Place and he was sure no one would disturb him if he wasn't really needed. In the kitchen Harry usually could brood alone without ruining anyone's mood, usually following the two stop path of feeling guilty for being alive and almost happy and then remembering that none of the lost ones would like to see him like that.
In the past couple months a new stop in this lone path was added. One that usually showed itself with a little smile and a doubtful frown. In the last weeks Harry realized that something, well, someone, became, if it were even possible, more present in his life. The new third stop of his musings was Hermione.

After being forced to be together by classes, school houses, death defying adventures and war, everyone still wanted to be friend but also to try something on his or her own, to follow his or her own dream, but in Harry and Hermione case the results were almost ironic. In the beginning Harry really feared he was going to lose sight of his best friends, Ron to quidditch fame and Hermione to the dusty depth of a library. But Ron always came back to Harry to brag about his exploits, both with the quaffle and with girls and Hermione, well, in the end Harry and Hermione started to spend time together at least as much as before if not more as most of their work, interests and goals ended up being the same.

Both of them were accepted for the positions they wanted in the Ministry, auror for Harry and a research position in the Department of Mysteries (he didn't knew that there weren't only Unspeakable there) for Hermione. Then both of them were asked to spend part of their first couple year helping in Hogwarts reconstruction, so they ended up spending months together there, especially during summers. After the conclusion of the school restoration they went back to their original jobs, but then Arthur Weasley crossed their path. He came to the Ministry with a detailed report about the muggle CSI police departments and how useful a scientific approach to investigation could be.  It started such an interest that it was decided that something like that was sorely needed and a trial run was started: an auror and a researcher from the Department of Mysteries were needed, someone with a muggle background, someone that could easily work together, someone with an open and fresh mindset, so it was Harry and Hermione working together again.

They met a lot even outside work with or without the rest of the gang, but to that they added even the few events they went to not as Harry or Hermione but as The Harry Potter and The Hermione Granger. They were mostly charity events, mostly about child orphaned by the war, events where their public persona could really help, not just improve someone image or inflate someone, usually already too big, ego.
During one of the muggle CSI congress they attended Hermione convinced him to stay in New York for an extra couple days and that hooked him on cultural tourism. Harry never went anywhere when younger and was not interested in the lazy just lay on the beach and fill yourself with food tourism the Dursleys favored. Going around having something to see and something to do was interesting and, well, the company was good! That started a series of travels both in Great Britain and in the rest of the world as international portkeys made things like a weekend in Nara, the most ancient and magical capital of Japan, a viable option.  And as many times in last days all this lead Harry to a recent conversation he had with Ginny and her offhand comment: "Why don't you marry her ? You two practically live together, the only thing lacking is the sleeping part!". He clearly reminded the wink that followed too.

Today his musings were interrupted by someone quietly entering the kitchen. "Hi Harry, back in Broodingland?"
"Huh ?" was his articulate first answer, but he promptly recovered. "So, Hermione, where do we go next time ?"
"Oh, right, we haven't decided when and where to go this month yet."

They ended up going somewhere together at least one weekend or long weekend every month, sometimes for conferences, sometimes just for fun (Ron still could not imagine how museums, old buildings, ruins and chaotic foreign markets could be considered fun, beside the food kiosks, that is).
Hermione seated in front of Harry and handled him the calendar he had on the wall she just passed. "Ok then, do you have some auror secret mission that i'm not aware of ? When are you free ? Remember the picnic at my parent's with everyone else on the fourteen".

Harry took the offered calendar and stared at it for  a long time slowly changing the pages back and forth from July to November, not noticing the inquisitive raising brow from Hermione and then, almost as speaking to himself, he said "I'm free all the other weekends, we may go whenever you want." Then he sighed and added, "What do you think, we could marry in October, maybe on the twenty-second ? Then we may take that long vacation in Australia you were talking about since you went there to retrieve your parents".

Hermione started her answer, "Ok, but Australia is too big for just a..." and abruptly stopped there when her brain raised an alert and forced her to replay the last few seconds of the conversation as something was missed. And not just "something", Harry just asked her, or maybe he was only considering it as a possibility, to marry him!

Being the most sensible of them she knew something was happening between them, they really spent too much time together and enjoyed it too much to stay just friend for much more. She had noticed, in both of them, the lack of dating, even when there were no lack of opportunity. She remembered Harry checking out girls at parties, but she remembered even more clearly Harry turning his head toward her, his gaze on her and his turning back to the girl and muttering to himself a little no with a smile. She considered their situation. Could she call dating their past months, if not years together ? All in all it was a positive answer. For several and different reasons both of them weren't very apt in physical displays of affection, beside her patented body crushing hugs. Then she came back to the present, to Harry that just realized not only what he said but even that she heard it. She had to act quickly, before he could say or do something very stupid.

"That, that is a great idea Harry, but we are going to Malta, there are still a lot of things to see but not so many as whole Australia to distract us from our honeymoon".
There was a second appearance of articulate Harry with his "Huh ?", but it was immediately followed by a couple of joy filled smiles, the first of a long series.


A.N. This was inspired by how my father asked my mother to marry him, almost as an afterthought when checking a wall calendar while planning some summer vacation (or at least that is what i was always told).

Going home in winter

Wow, i started just with the first line and the wintery light fog, i had no idea that it would end like that!

It is obviously, at least for me, that the person going home is Hermione Granger. So here we go:

Going home in winter

No copyright infringement intended.

---

Maybe it was all the cold young wizards experienced during theirs Hogwarts years or just that subtle laziness undertone that magic had, anyway, most of the purebloods, especially in winter, didn't set foot outside for weeks, if not months. They just apparated, flooed or portkeyed to work, to Diagon Alley (the only place in Britain with a wide area warming charm in place) to friends and back whenever they could. The only thing that would make them stay outside was Quidditch. Ah, surely a worthy cause of discomfort.

Sure, wizarding means of transportation were great and it was nice to sleep that extra half an hour in the morning, but sometimes she also needed the extra time while going home to quiet her mind, to change her mindset from work mode to home mode.
And the winter evenings were quite good at it, with their darkness, their decreasing number of people and cars and the silence.

In the main Ministry hall she would still be surrounded by the end of the day rush and would have to greet and make small talk with some colleagues and friends reaching for the floo, but just in a few strides she would be surrounded mostly by muggles and a few halfbloods and muggleborns reaching for public transports, mainly going, like her, to the tube station. The silence would came after, when she would exit the tube, but even the subway noise was good, it provided a rhythm to follow in alternative to the work thoughts.

The landscape, then, would be completely different, the streets would be narrower, the buildings less imposing and a lot less lights and advertising would distract her. In winter there would be often a little fog, not enough to be an issue but enough to make you wonder if the rumbling noise you heard were the sea instead of the nearby motorway.

At this point she was usually ready to think about the approaching evening at home and would recap their plans for it, but this last days were different and another thought would abruptly jump in the foreground, a thought she carefully constrained all day long to be able to properly work. In just a few months it wouldn't be just the two of them anymore, they were expecting.

Choking to death

It seems that Saturdays are favorable to writing, so here we go again with "Chocking to death".


No copyright infringement intended.


It is all Ron's fault, as usual, i'm chocking to death and it is all his fault!

It all started when we were dating, Molly and my mother became friends, good friends. It's funny to note that it was born from Molly's interest for the muggle world and its working.   After watching her kids spending more and more time there and even having one of them probably going to marry a muggleborn like me she needed to know more, a lot more about us, especially about the practicalities of everyday life. She never asked her husband as she knew that Arthur was more obsessed about muggles than a real expert and wanting a more reliable source she turned to my mother.

They started small, mostly having tea or lunch at my parents' home then visiting muggle London with the excuse of tea or lunch.  After a while Molly was able to venture there alone, using public transport to go where no safe apparition points were available.
Following our breakup they didn't let their friendship die (me and Ron staying friends helped too) and they still love to spend their free time together, something Molly has plenty of now that most of her children left the Burrow.

And that bring me to my current impending death: i'm here in my flat, laying on the floor and chocking to death while on the phone with my mother. She just told me about the last muggle question Molly had for her, it was about some creature muggles get answers for every question they have and for that it should be a magical creature she noted, reminding her about sphinxes, even if only by contrast and wondering how it keeps its nature hidden. I got curious and asked my mother if Molly knew its name and the answer that she know the name but not the species, and the name was Google.


A.N.
Ok, maybe it would work even without the hints about their failed relationship, but i really can't do that ;-)

Rhythms at the eastern fair

It took me more than a year but i wrote my first fanfiction, obviously it is an Harry Potter one and no copyright infringement is intended  nor any money is made from this, The pairing, yes, i'm a shipper, should be quite evident even if no names are involved. So here we are:

Rhythms at the eastern fair

Bollywood dancer Sunny Singh

I've been at this eastern fair for hours, and my feet need rest, that's why i planned to attend some of the exhibitions in the afternoon. Look, a free seat, it's mine now.

A few minutes and a couple artist after a group of three approaches the seats in the row ahead of mine, just a few places on my right. While each one of them seem relaxed the three of them as a group work like a well oiled military unit, the lanky redhead boy in the front guiding them straight to the goal, the wiry dark haired boy in the middle scans the hundreds faces around as if someone would suddenly attack them and the girl is alternating between watching the two boys and scanning the place, more interested in the place itself than the people as if mapping it, looking at the doors and dark hidden places.
Once they sit they look at each other and the redhead whispers something like "We should stop that, you know" and they share a sad smile. They look to be in their late teen or early twenties, clad in faded jeans, light hoodies for the boys and a form fitting red chequered flannel shirt for the girl. They talk to each other when the next exhibit starts, an ayurvedic massage demonstration and then the redhead comments about wanting to learn it if you end up touching half naked hot chicks like the one up in the stage, the other boy grins back, but only when the girl isn't looking.

After that a bollywood dancer approach, he is tall, athletic, dark skinned and with a contagious smile and love for dancing. In just a few minutes he has half the public dancing with him and he even ask few people to join him on stage where he teach them a simple choreography. Most of the public is entranced with a young blond girl of about ten, quite a natural at dancing and enjoying herself very much.

I abruptly come back to my immediate surrounding after someone's camera flash goes straight to my eyes. I see those three standing and dancing, everyone in its own way.
The redhead is the most enthusiastic, trying to follow the choreography and falling miserably but still having a lot of fun, i can see his smile even without seeing his face. The girl just follow the rhythm with her head, shoulder and hips and sometimes she shows just an hint of the moves. The other guy has serious rhythm issues, he just sways at the music but he really can't follow it and as if he knows something bad would happen he never try any of the moves.
And then something like a game starts between him and the girl as they often bump into each other shoulders. The first time it happens the girl is quite surprised and stops for a few seconds watching him then she probably remember his troubles with dancing, as she just smiles and go back to her quiet dancing. The dancing increase its rhythm and energy and so does the shoulders bumping. Lost to the rhythm the girl miss the dark haired guy shoulder and starts falling. But she has no time to react before her (badly) dancing partner reach out and keep her from really falling down. He put her back on her feet and keeping his hand on her shoulder looks at her.
In the following couple of seconds several things happen: they have a silent discussion, they blush, they nod to each other, they take a furtive glance at the oblivious dancing redhead and they both sigh. Then they go back to their light dancing and the girl, maybe just to stop him hitting her shoulder again, grab the boy's hand and try to keep him following the music. After a few more minutes the dance session ends with loud clapping and, as many others, those three slip away, probably in search for something to drink as they are lead away by the now panting redhead.
I meet them again a little later while i'm heading to the exit and i notice that those two are still holding hands and following their own rhythm.


A.N.
This was inspired by a real three guys group, two boys and a girl i saw in a east fair i attended in November 2012. Everything beside the seats approach, the dancing and the hand holding really happened. I thought about making this oneshot while driving home just then, but it take a year to write it down.
The bollywood dancer there was Sunny Singh, the pic is mine and was taken there.

Crying in the spring

Another random inspiration struck...here we have:

Crying Stone, Luba Zhukova. Poznan.

Crying in the Spring.

It seem almost impossible that such different things exist at the same time, it's like matter and antimatter.
The Spring just approaching and successfully fighting Winter away and me, just approaching depression and not so successfully fighting Her away.
And add to that some anger, not jealously, just plain anger at the Spring, at the reawakening nature, at the universe at large and at everyone; how can they be so indifferent, if not even happy when i'm feeling so bad ?
I knew it could end like this, it happened to me and many others before and it will happen to me and many others again, just like Spring has and will. I hope i will love again, i just have to cry a little before that.

Happiness on ice

Sometimes you can find inspiration even when you are not searching for it (and maybe it is the better kind as it has to be strong enough to got to your mind in its whatever current state). I got this reading the word of the day at Dictionary.com and the word was "svelte".

Happiness on ice

Several years later she would remember those glorious hours and she would wonder why she favored them over her Olympic triumphs. But then she would remember the happiness, the freedom and the flying feeling of the first day she was back on the ice after the incident, the surgeries, the immobilization and the rehabilitation.

A deadly gentler touch

My entry for NANO FICTION DAILY DARE #24

Image from Wikimedia Commons

A deadly gentler touch

Nobody expected she would dare, everybody expected her brother to lead the Family now.
But he would have been as messy and unrefined as her now dead brothers and Father.
No one was ready for her, nor her little brother, nor the older male chauvinist Family members, nor the other families, not even Tokyo.

A bright future

I'm cheating a little and doing a 55/7 fiction instead of the required 500/? (i forgot it was 500 and don't think i'm ready yet for that size) from prompt n. 1 of Flashfiction356. The prompt is "suitably warm":

Image Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/R. Hurt (SSC)

A bright future

Not knowing what i'll become was the worst thing, but now i know. In the end i just needed enough quiet time to get big and warm enough. Now i feel the reactions starting, i'm going to be a star! Maybe i'll even get  planets, moons and comets to orbit me.

The first museum

Trying my hand at writing again, this time with NANO FICTION DAILY DARE #18, so here we go:

NASA - Opportunity: Me and My Shadow

The first museum

Like my grandfather on the Moon with the Lem, like his grandfather with the Concordia Station in Antarctica. Here i am, trying to open the first museum in an hostile environment. Opportunity on Mars for me.  Wondering if my grandson will do the TandEM/TSSM on Titan. A grandson...

The day after a cold day

Exiting home,
the day after a cold day,
fearing another cold one
while you walk in the house shadow
but finding a warm sun on your next step.
A known face in the sidewalk,
while driving to the mall.
Someone you thought you could become friend with
but met too few times to find out.
Two daughter jumping around
and she pushes a stroller too.
They seem happy.
Back to my shopping list.