Alessandra Grosso
Crystal Stair
Original title: Scala e Cristallo
Translated by: Silvia Baratta
Copyright © 2019 - Alessandra Grosso
CONTENTS
PREFACE
INTRODUCTION
PART 1
ESCAPE AND FLEE
SOLACE AND TROUBLE
THE CAVE MONSTERS
DOOMSDAY SPIDERS
THE CRAZY OLD WOMAN
LOST CITY
THE YOUNG WOMAN; OR, THE TRAFFIC LIGHT
DRAGON
THE LONG MARCH
DEPARTURE
BETRAYAL
PART 2
DEATH BECOMES YOU
THE CHESS MATCH BEGINS
CAPTURE OF THE PAWN
CAPTURE OF THE BISHOP
THE SLAUGHTER OF THE KNIGHTS HORSES
CHECKMATE
THE DARK LADY
THE QUEEN
CONCLUSION
CHARLIE CHAPLINS FINAL SPEECH
MY MISTAKES
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PREFACE
Its only the dreamers who ever move mountains.1
Welcome to my story.
This book is a mere collection of nightmares, without any pretensions but to let you enter the intricate folds of my mind.
I think everyone has experienced nightmares in their life, whether asleep or awake; I can well say Im an impressive expert on sleeping terrors. Close-eyed nightmares are my personal curse: I have been having them frequently since I was a child, and I could never explain the reason why.
My childhood was related to the constant fear that something catastrophic was about to happen, either to me or to the people I loved. I usually felt something akin to a cold breath on my neck that made my hair stand on end; that icy, slimy hand touching your back and making you startle, aghast. Now and then my vision would darken completely and, so as to feel more at ease, I had to go and lie down on my bed. Yet, even entering my bedroom I dreaded what I would find when I finally closed my eyes.
Things didnt improve at all in my teen years: soon after a dream I always woke up in a sweat, shivering. In the morning, then, I obviously had to face life again like everyone else, though still doubtful about my future. But it was whenever I had personal choices to make that the nightmares worsened. At those times my life easily became hell; I closed myself off entirely and always wondered what I had achieved so far and what I wanted next from my life.
Over time I have come to write my dreams down, alongside my wishes, in order to analyse them and see if they ever come true. This has helped me to shed some light on such issues more than once.
Then, one day, I thought to myself that I would tell you all about my terrors, embellishing each one and including them in a collection of every spine-chilling thrill I have ever experienced.
I apologise for this chilly gift on my part, but my mind is likewise a cold and messy place. It is the mind of a woman, of a fighter who openly faced evil and chose to talk about it.
Though my words might sometimes wound the more susceptible souls, I dont mean to claim the moral high ground over any of you. Everyone has their own world view; we feel and shape everything around us accordingly. And after all the ordeals I have endured through life, I now strive to use my inner eye so as to create a more fruitful vision of the future. I would like to see a future full of dreams, studies, travels: dreams are basically wishes our hearts make.
As to nightmares, though...
Close-eyed nightmares have always been my speciality, and there are several reasons behind this phenomenon, but the main one is probably that Im a tolerant and sensitive person; over the course of my life I have in fact experienced both thorns in my side and many a rainy day.
But I have always, always sought light, and I think the best way to illustrate this part of me is through my favourite poem: Mother to Son, by Langston Hughes. Its main subject, the crystal stair, illustrates the confusing period Im currently experiencing, and the desire to reach my full potential in life.
Alessandra
Mother to Son2
Well, son, Ill tell you:
Life for me aint been no crystal stair.
Its had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor
Bare.
But all the time
Ise been a-climbin on,
And reachin landins,
And turnin corners,
And sometimes goin in the dark
Where there aint been no light.
So boy, dont you turn back.
Dont you set down on the steps
Cause you finds its kinder hard.
Dont you fall now
For Ise still goin, honey,
Ise still climbin,
And life for me aint been no crystal stair.
INTRODUCTION
Free men make decisions; slaves obey orders.
The heroines mission is to protect her life and eventually find freedom and independence, as well as an emotional balance, after dealing with all her nightmares which are many, as many are the physical and psychological barriers she has to face, and which take their own terrifying shape.
The book first presents a very shy protagonist who runs away when in front of her monsters. Only later on does she begin to fight still with the occasional flight if the situation is particularly dangerous. At the end of her complex inner process, though, there will be a distinct prevalence of fighting over fleeing.
This change clearly implies a personal evolution: she will always and only act in order to protect herself and what she believes is right.
Some people will help her, others will hinder her.
But now please, read on and enjoy.
PART 1
Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, youll land among the stars.3
ESCAPE AND FLEE
Life is a long lesson in humility.4
Life is a long lesson in humility.4
I was running up the stairs to fetch the key that would finally free us. I instinctively knew that there were fifty-five steps to go up and fifty-five more to go down. Behind me, doors, gates and ancient grates were closing; I could only see darkness and despair all around.
I was growing troubled and distressed, short of breath; walls were fading in colour from honey to cream... I knew I was entering hell, but I couldnt slow down. As soon as I reached the last step, I sprang toward the room where the key to the last door must be.
In this rush, the key was everything. It was salvation, the symbol for liberation, our deliverance from darkness; but I knew the clawed monster would defend it fiercely: it wasnt going to be easy.
He had been a man in his previous life, a strong, powerful man; an abuser.
Facing him required in fact every bit of my strength. I could only feint to the side at once and attack with a wooden chair I found nearby; a mere chair against a monster that had been an icon in life. A life of excess, of drinking until early morning, of cocaine, women millions of women and child abuse, up to the day he was gruesomely burnt alive.
Having always been particularly sensitive, though, even now I could perceive his weakness.
And then I suddenly attacked: with a feint, I smashed the chair on his head. The wood cracked and broke, leaving only two of its legs in my hands. Deeply distraught, I used them to angrily spear the monsters chest and neck.
The hideous, burnt figure lay now on the ground; I guessed I could try to burn him to ashes once and for all. My attempt would certainly slow him down: he was terrified of fire, which would finally cleanse his envy of beauty and innocence. It was the only thing he had nurtured in a life of manipulative, psychopathic tendencies.
Yet, although I was practically certain of his obsessive fear, I couldnt feel any pity for him; I had to defend myself first, and neutralise him in any way.
In his life, knowing that envy and resentment were not socially acceptable, he had disguised them as charm and intellectualism, but his thoughts had always been dark and malicious. Hunger is said to be sharper than a sword: I believe envy is even sharper, and throughout history it has caused discord, wars, and endless mourning.
I was then fortunate enough to find a lighter on the ground; it was surprisingly the one from my youth, which I called the Zippo of my sweet sixteen when I smoked secretly from time to time. I moved quickly, threw the burning Zippo at him and, once found the key, I took it and ran toward the staircase.
Fifty-five steps. I was young, and I flew up the stair. My knee hurt but I endured the pain: every step meant life, so I counted each one over and over again.
Once on top, I finally bypassed the banister and quickly handed the key to my companions some sought the light, others wanted to pursue the abyss in the opposite direction.
The lock clicked open, but I could feel the monster starting to approach after a brief pause: he was trying to retrace his steps. We needed to leave that place and run toward the light, the same I had always sought.
The elaborate, white-painted gate in front of me was the last hindrance, but it also reminded me of purity, since its grating was sturdy and thick, and protected me as the light did, so that the monster would stay away.
But what could this protective aura ever be? Mere light?
And what was this light? God Himself? Or Lucifer, as in light-bringer?
Questions, questions... The answers were elusive.
The monster was furious, cursing in his daunting, throaty voice. The gate in fact had been closed and locked again, and everyone had escaped; the key was left for whoever chose to challenge him.
I didnt think there was anything else to do, so I ventured further, to a dark and gloomy church. Attempting to unravel its mystery, I found myself suddenly alone in the pitch dark of that dusty, crumbling place. I proceeded along the hall that probably constituted the right aisle and found a curious kneeling-stool at the foot of a statue.
How bizarre, I thought. What will it ever...
It was completely covered in blood.
A shiver; then a voice.
There does not exist one and only one Death!
What? Wont death actually be the end of everything? Wont we slowly vanish like smoke?
Will we go back or move forwards in time? To a recent or remote past, or a parallel dimension altogether?
__________
I realised to be already on the outside of the mysterious church, wandering among ferns. Majestic chain ferns, with shiny leaves that smelt of wildness and reminded me of my childhood country house by the lake.
The old house was now within reach, it seemed, but I was too curious to stop here; I longed to cross that green expanse, in the inquisitive attitude of early youth. My candour actually demanded: explore!, my wisdom: think!, my heart: feel!. So I went on, following my audacious nature.
And then a scene from my past suddenly occurred: a fierce clash between tyrannosaurs.
I fled although I can attest that, before running away, I was offered a close-up view of the sharp teeth of the two animals and noticed their stance changing from confrontational to outright offensive. With their colossal muscle-bound bodies they clashed, destroying everything in their wake. They uprooted trees and trampled on my beloved ferns, in the typical fight of the mating period.
I was in such a rush that I tripped over several stones tumbling on my path. The commotion drew the attention of the beasts that, immediately alert, turned their heads and went on the hunt.
They could perceive everything, from my smell to my fear, as many wild animals do.
I dashed away in despair, my breathing growing heavy. My spleen hurt, under strain, but I couldnt afford to stop now: there had to be a way out, somewhere. And sometimes it is even more frightening than what you are fleeing from.
The only opening turned out to be a dark alley that progressed into a cracked tunnel, running within a natural cavity.
It was time to confront my claustrophobia. With a last-gasp effort I squeezed into it. Outside, the massive beasts roared, enraged, since they could no longer see their prey.
I crawled for a long time the air stale, smelly and unpleasant to breathe. I also had a terrible fear of spiders and mice, and had always loathed both. In particular, mice terrified me since as a child I had once entered our hen house and discovered an enormous brown rat stealing eggs from a nest. But I was a little girl then; now, however, I was a woman and it was time to fight for life.
Fight to survive, or flee if the enemy is bigger than you: it was the process underlying human survival. It had always been, and I had to endure it for myself, for the survival of the human species, for all mankind even.
Society had never been foremost in my mind. Prior to this, I used to be socially inept; an intractable, introverted person, invariably in dark clothes and rather depressed, with even suicidal thoughts. It was now time to overcome my emotional turmoil, though.
In the meantime, I was still crawling; scratching my arms and legs as I struggled to move forwards.
__________
It was night when I re-emerged, an eerie, nearly moonless night; the sky occasionally ominous in its murkiness, and the clouds easily compared to big felines in terms of strength and colours.