“Well” said Peter “because my name is Peter, I think to know everything, even to know where your names are. Exactly a year ago two little names arrived here and they were looking for their corresponding owners; they flew here and there and they were sure that they would have met- among the Lost Boys of the Isle- someone that had lost his name, besides his parents.
But it was not like that. I advised them to go to the place where the Ghost of the Castle keeps the aspirations, the desires of innocent creatures. Certainly there would have been the children that looked for their names. Well, so your names decided to go there. And it is better for you if you go there, too. I’ll give you some magic powder; you could need it. Good Luck!”
The missile flapped its wings, stretching its little claws, while The Little Bell- this was the name of the Little Fairy- said goodbye to them; she was radiant. They directed the compass with the coordinates: Castle- Ghost- Desires.
On the monitor appeared a little dot immersed in a thick fog; this fog was well spread on the flatland. It was in the north- east of the country named Italy. Were they at home?
They left the Island That Is Not with this hope.
“The landing has not been one of the best. We will have to dress the little left- wing of the missile. Are you sure that you put the right data in? everything is dark outside here.”
So the Little Girl scouting around, avoided the presences of the night, animated by sounds and loud rustles; she was attached to the tired body of the missile lying on the ground, almost embracing it.
Only the remaining little intermittent lights flickered shadows of life and lit up portions of unknown space.
Walking by little steps- hand in hand- they stumbled upon a dark shadow of great dimensions, that hanged over the silent flatland. The missile- after receiving the expected caress- closed the bullseye, looking for sleep.
They arrived to the main- door, which was removed and which was hiding a little fissure; the steps won their fear and after two hesitations, the Children were in that giant- shadow with profiles.
After the pitch blackness, an euphoric brightness arrived; it was a brightness of strange animal species: closed in fences- sighing- they longed for a sneaky bee, that- in centripetal tension- courted an iridescent green tree- trunk.
And the more that it flapped its metallic wings on a wooden body- inlaid by yellow and black glasses; soaring proudly- the more it flew in a perfect “bird- style”. So vain, to let its self put a metallic reflecting plate at the base of a trunk.
Ohs…of amazement came out of those strange beings; beings with colour- striped glass-legs and wooden bodies.
If they only could soar vertically and dizzily.
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Alberto Gambale
