Septimus (racconto)

Pentacolo di Salomone

Ieri sono tornato a casa con un’incipit, ma era in inglese. Strano, sarà colpa di George Martin. Comunque non mi sono scoraggiato, anzi è stato stimolante scrivere la mia prima qualunque-cosa-sia in inglese. Marina mi ha aiutato un bel po’ controllando che non facessi troppi errori, quindi la ringrazio a non finire per l’essenziale e tempestivo soccorso.

Un’ultima cosa prima di lasciarvi: Septimus nacque in una manche di Minuti Contati (sul defunto forum di XII) e la sua storia è reperibile, insieme ad altri miei racconti, nell’omonima Antologia edita da Nero Café, questa riscrittura però comprende elementi di cui prima non ho parlato perché – beh – sono del tutto nuovi. Detto questo, spero vi piaccia e concludo qui, prima che l’introduzione diventi più lunga di questo brevissimo racconto. 

s e p t i m u s

little devils of the smallest things

I met God in a pit, at its very bottom. It looked like mud, but glistening. I asked It the way out, and It said: «Just dig». And so I did. Then I reached the Chthonian Paradise. Hell is Heaven upside down, but still Paradise, with its terrible beauties and splendid threats. If you ask me, I’ll show you the way. Just dig.

I was very young then, a newborn devil of the smallest things, seventh spawn of my father-and-mother who gave me a name chosen out of sheer boredom. I was raised by no gentle hand, but spit in the world of men like a seed, to grow up like plant from the ground. I did know nothing but my devilish instinct, so I pulled my self up like a fawn and moved my first steps in this world of yours. Then, hearing the voices of men gave me the knowledge of your tongue, as if I was an intelligent parrot, or maybe just a diligent one. 

We, splinters of our great kin, are the smallest pieces on the chessboard when God and Satan play. We are the dust on the pawns, but dust falls also upon rooks, knights and bishops, queens and kings. You breath us, love and hate us, call us with prayers and many names, and we love you and hate you, push you towards defeat or raise you up in glory. In the Book is said: No harm and no heal, no sorrow and no solace. For we are nor evil neither good, just splinters that came out from nowhere. 

At first, I was ignorant of being naked, just felt the wind on my butt like something natural. Then a woman shrieked and I heard my first human words. 

«You filthy bastard!» she said.

«You filthy bastard!» I responded, smiling and waving at her.

She did not take it well, but I did not yet understand everything, thus I supposed she was saluting me. 

Wrong. 

After she ran away screaming, I followed her asking for more pretty words to learn. She told me a lot of words, but later I knew they were not pretty ones. In fact, I was caught, beaten, threatened with death and put in a pit by men who would “teach me a lesson”, as they said. 

Well, I learned your bloody shitty language. 

Ironic or not, I got out of my father-and-mother’s womb just to be pushed down in another. 

The sky up there was now a chessboard of rusted iron, reminding me my place in the Game. And there was God, the earth’s glimmering mud at the pitch black bottom of the pit where I lay in sorrow, the first day of my life. So, as I told you, I dug and came back home. 

Father-and-mother asked me: «Septimus, what are you doing here?»

So I told It my story, and said: «I met God in a pit, at its very bottom».

END