Hi everyone, I’m Francesco G. and this is my new story for our blog. I decided to write one inspired to my favourite song lyrics. I’m talking about “The Count of Tuscany” by Dream Theater, included in the album “Black clouds & silver linings”. The words in bold are quotations from the song.
This song does not only deal with the theme of
fear, but also with stereotypes and easy cliches . Ready to read my story now? To create the right atmosphere, play the song while reading (CLICK HERE)
He was tall and big, fit and
imposing; <<Hi, I’m the Count of Tuscany and I’m honoured to meet you. I
heard that you are not only a musician, but also a wine connoisseur, aren’t you?>>
he said.
Before I
could talk, he continued: <<In my castle I have a great collection of
rare wines, would you like to see it? Obviously, I’ll be happy to give you some
samples as a gift>>. <<Ok>> I told him <<but let’s take
my car>>. He got into my car: <<Let’s go for a drive >>
he said.
Winding through the hills,
seeing far behind, on and on we drove down narrow street and dusty
roads; I had never seen such a beautiful landscape, with the sunset as a
crown. After about a fantastic journey
which lasted about an hour, we arrived at his castle, and I began to be upset: it
was a bleak castle, like the ones you see in horror movies. It had barred
windows, dirty walls and a gothic main entrance.
I decided something was wrong
after seeing him opening the door only touching it with a finger: my whole
strength wouldn’t be enough to do it. “Come on, don’t be silly, he is such a
kind person, he would not hurt you” I kept repeating to myself, to find the
courage to get in.
After we went through passages with
the Count’s ancestors’ portraits displayed all over the walls, we reached the
great hall. There was a man sitting by the fire, reading a book. When he heard
us coming, he stared and began to examine me: he was a few years younger than
the Count; he was sucking on his pipe and had his book closed in his
left hand, the title was the Italian translation of “Warfare tactics in ancient
history” or something similar.
<<Hi sir, nice to make
your acquaintance!>> he had such a distinguished accent that he made
me uptight; but I noticed something else: he had a melancholic note in his
voice, as if he was not happy to stay there.
<<Nice to know you
too!>> I told him. The Count’s brother was about to speak when the Count
interrupted him, talking to me: <<Yes, Roberto, we will talk later, now I
must bring him to the winery.>>
The brother, resigned, returned
to his chair and went on reading his book.
“Everything
about this place just doesn't feel right”,
I thought.
We arrived to the basement some
minutes later, and the Count told me: <<I will tell you a legend of these
lands dating back to the Second World War: do you know they say during that conflict
some American soldiers hid inside these barrels filled with wine never to
escape? These tombs of old that's where they died.
Obviously
it is only a legend, no one thinks it is true.>> But while he was saying
that, I saw a strange grin on his face and a grimmer expression in his eyes. I was
so terrified I couldn’t breathe anymore. He continued: << Would you
like to see our secret holy place? I come here late at night to pray to him by
candlelight then viewing through the past I saw which is believed still dressed
in royal clothes a saint behind the altar>>.
I looked towards that direction
and started to think there was a holy relic there, in what looked like a
desecrated church inside a castle. I felt hypnotized and paralyzed for an
endless minute, until I managed to say: <<Please Count, can we just take
the wine and get away from this basement?>> when I saw down
the cellar stairs he disappeared like an angel’s share.
“The end
is near!” I thought.
There was
no Count. Not anymore.
Could
this be the end? Is this the way I die? Sitting here alone? No one by my side.
I don’t
understand, I don’t feel that I deserve this; what did I do wrong? I just don’t
understand.
Sitting
down, back to the wall, I view all my life. “Why did I come here? Why do I have to die here?” But it didn’t matter
anymore. I would die there, far from what I knew. Far from whom I loved.
I don’t know how much time I
spent there, closing my eyes, waiting to be killed: minutes, hours, days,
months, seconds: who can tell?
Every
moment seemed like a century. I thought and thought again. Someone says that
when a person knows he’s certainly going to die, his mind begins to travel farther
and farther away. In a few seconds I saw worlds, stars, galaxies. Clouds rolled
by and I rolled with them. Every instant was like an entire life. I was in the
course of events, like a spectator who is teleported into a show he doesn’t
want to be part of, something he doesn’t expect.
I don’t know if I lost
consciousness and for how long, but when I opened my eyes, I saw something I
didn’t expect: the Count was before me, looking at me worried <<Are you
ok?>>. <<Yes, I think…>> <<I know what you’re thinking ….>>
He stopped, and then <<Now wait a minute then, that’s not how it is,
you must be confused, that isn’t who I am; please don’t be afraid, I would
never try to hurt you. This is how we live, strange although it seems, please
try to forgive! The Chapel and the Saint, the soldiers in the wine, the fables
and the tales, all handed down trough time. None of that is true, there’s
just wine here, and this is the little
medieval altar I told you before>>. <<I… I…>> but I couldn’t
talk.
I started crying. He did nothing
to scare me, he was kind, he only wanted to be kind to me. My prejudices won over
common sense. I realised that I had become everything I hated.
<<I’m
sorry, Count>> I whispered.
<<I
don’t want to hold someone in my castle against his will.>>.
<<So,
am I free to go?>> I asked. He looked at me as if I were a child and told
me calmly: <<Of course you’re
free to go>>.
I reached the door and while I
was going away, he called me back and said <<Go and the world my
story; tell about my brother, tell them about me: the Count of Tuscany!>>.
FRANCESCO G., 4sc
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