Every morning, the elders gather at the piazza on their panchina. They chat, complain, and watch everyone who passes by like CCTV cameras.
But that day was different from their usual morning. They weren't talking about someone's life... instead, they were talking about someone's death.
It was the second death for the month. The first victim was the servitrice, or the servant of the capo de mago, known as the mayor of the town. She was found near the river with deep cut wounds, as if an animal had attacked her.
"He was found dead in his home... hanging." “Was it really suicide?” "They said his body was covered in deep scratches." "Claw marks?" "Again?" "That's what they said." "Ridiculous." "There are no wild animals in the city." "We would know." "What did that to him?"
Suddenly, someone said quietly: “Are they back?” “Shh... don't even mention them.”
A brief silence.
A new woman appeared. She tried to avoid making eye contact and walked straight ahead.
"Buongiorno! Parli italiano?" an elderly woman asked her.
"Sì," the woman replied impatiently.
"Non sembri italiana, ma i tuoi occhi sono..." the elderly woman said curiously. (You don't look Italian, but your eyes do.)
"Grazie. Li ho presi da mia nonna. Buona giornata!" the woman clarified. (Thank you. I got them from my Grandma. Have a nice day!)
It's easy to please the elders, speak Italian with the native accent, and you are instantly their grandchild.
"Prego! Parli molto bene l'italiano, eh?! Buona giornata! Bellissima!" the old woman said excitedly. (You're welcome! You speak Italian very well, you know! Have a great day!)
"Nonna," a little girl called out to the old woman. She appeared to be her granddaughter.
The old woman ignored her.
The child was looking at the hem of the woman's clothes.
"Grazie! Ciao!" the woman uttered nervously as she walked away.
That was impolite. You don't say goodbye while the elders are talking... You have to wait until the interrogation is over, you have to answer them patiently until they let you go...
"Ciao..." The old woman finally noticed her impatience and said goodbye.
"What are you doing here?" she finally turned to her granddaughter.
"I think I saw something on her dress... Era sangue, Nonna? (Was it blood, Grandma?)" the little girl asked her grandmother, who appeared to be scared.
"What are you talking about? I told you to stop talking about the..." The old woman stopped mid sentence.
"Now go home, close the door, you're not allowed to play outside, they said there's a wild animal roaming around the city... Now go... quickly," she instructed her granddaughter.
"She's the new girl in town. People say she's foreign... what a surprise, she's ours."
Their chatter continued...
"People who aren't from here can't move in. You know how we despise outsiders."
They laughed and moved on.
She continued to walk as their voices faded. She quickly unlocked her door, dropped her sacchetto, and turned the radio on.
"We are saddened by the news of Senior Scribani's passing."
(News on AM Radio)
"Ah... Giulio Scribani, the Hero of Triora," she exclaimed sarcastically.
"He left behind a legendary reputation... a hero who protected the town from something dark. For generations, people praised his name as though he had saved them from a great evil," she thought.
“...one of the few men responsible for what became known as Salem d’Italia, during the famous trials in La Cabotina, where thirty five women were accused of practicing dark magic...” the radio announcer continued...
Her hand paused as she put away the groceries...
She closed the door of the fridge and walked slowly to the living room... She no longer heard the radio. She was staring at the painting above the fireplace...
"Thirty four," she corrected, "because one managed to escape."
She closed her eyes...
"Scappa lontano da qui!" the memory of her grandma's last words was still vivid (run away from here!) while she ran as fast as she could until she no longer heard her grandma's voice as she suffered. "Tornero, lo prometto, nonna" (I will come back, I promise, grandma), she whispered as she kept running.
Tears started to fall as she opened her eyes...
“...and some were burned... alive.”
"They didn't even dare mention what they did to them... to you."
In the living room hung a painting of the Noce di Benevento.
"Finalmente sono arrivata, nonna!" (I have finally arrived, Grandma!)
She walked to the window and saw the elders still chatting down the street...
She smiled and looked back at the painting...
"Come promesso," (Just as I promised,)
for the first time in a long time, the people of Triora have something to be afraid of...
