Open Fire
A story by Domenic Marinelli
__________
It was 1989; I was seven. My parents and I
had left the comforts of New York for a trip back to my father’s birthplace of
Parella, Italy. It was a small town of about two hundred people.
What I remember most about the trip was the
freedom I had. I could wander the town walking from one end to another all
alone, exploring and going on private adventures.
It was on one particular day that my walk
took me to a less populated area where the alleys were narrow and the buildings
seemed all but abandoned. I walked slowly, trying to take it all in, when
suddenly I could see a small open fire in the distance. It was at the mouth of
a small alley. The fire drew me closer, and the air smelled oddly of a scent I
associated with Christmas Eve. It wasn’t until I was standing a few feet away
from the fire that I noticed the small pan of chestnuts sitting above the
bright orange flames.
A noise startled me from deep within the
darkness of the alley. An old man was standing there, staring at me through
grey eyes that were both menacing and kind. We stared at each other that way
for the longest time, until he motioned me forward.
***
It was dusk, and my father saw me returning
from the distance; I could see him waving me home from the front door of the
house he’d grown up in. “How was today’s adventure, Ademo?” he asked me when I
got closer.
“Fine, Dad,” I said as I squeezed by him.
He tousled my hair before I was out of his
reach and into the hall bathroom.
I stared into the mirror, as I do now all
these years later, wondering about the hidden corners of the world and the
human spirit, where darkness covers all, and the soul suffers most.
(Copyright
2017 - Domenic Marinelli)
Domenic
Marinelli is the author of Weathered Tracks, Save … Act – A
Collection of Ten Stories, Miles In The Dark, Beneath The White
Darkness, 13 Years of Lamentation, Resonant Words (articles) and Strays In The Cold. He is also a
freelance writer who has contributed various pieces to many publications
including The Sportster, The Gamer and Steel Notes Magazine.
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I sat so merry in my abode
Loving hands around me
I dreamt of such glorious days
One day i would see
I remember the day I left
My room
I closed the door behind me
One quick look again
Then walked away
The room which would always remind me
The glorious days I had dreamt
I did merrily spent
How little did I then know
Life turns on a dime
My room is now not as it was
When I closed the door
Behind me
My room now is a prison
But not how one would invision
It is one of sorrow and grief
Sadness burns into the bare walls
I catch my breath
And weep
Why did thou'st doth betray?
The room which once embraced me
I ask with riddled heart
Jagged and torn
Which wicked riddles have I thus sought?
I sit still
I am now my room
No dreams as once before
I age before my open door
In my room long ago
I sat merrily in my loving abode
Loving hands did hold me
All gone
My room and myself
Now one
Two thrust to be together
Forever
Alone