(Tale for the competition " 300 Words To A Nightmare ", 2007 - ranked eleventh)
The cold, dry air of a starry night enveloped the city.
For the Old Course, life goes quiet. A husband kissing his wife outside a restaurant, a group of friends ride in the shadow of the stove warm mushroom and a crowded girl walking slowly on his heels, trying not to slip on the cobbles.
Down the street from the entrance of a building is open.
The elevator is down, the stairs are marble.
the first floor a retired couple sleeps a peaceful sleep.
the second a man wakes up and swears softly, aware that one should not pry.
The third woman is barricaded in his room. Crying and shaking with terror, and Romeo, her Romeo tries to break down the door. The hinges shaking under the blows, as she shakes her head and make-up running down the face.
In the attic, among a maze of dusty furniture moths and the beams, the rats flee in the throes of a frenzied delirium of instinctive self-preservation.
Sul tetto dotato di terrazza, i lenzuoli, messi ad asciugare dalla signora dell’interno uno, svolazzano mossi dal vento notturno. Attraverso gli spiragli creati dall’ondeggiare dei candidi panni, si scorge la logora cuccia che l’inquilina del terzo piano non si decide a buttare. La luna piena illumina una medaglietta cucita all’interno. È opaca, ma si distingue ancora il disegno di un Jack Russell Terrier e una scritta: Romeo.
Per il Corso Vecchio, nessuno sente il forte schianto della porta, nessuno da importanza all’ululato feroce che segue.
Per il Corso Vecchio, tutti sanno che i mostri non esistono… neanche in una notte di luna piena.
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