Journey In Black

It was raining. Since many hours the sky had been spilling all its fury on the city streets with icy hammering raindrops. Even the wind seemed to help the raging clouds by slapping the water from the sky more violently against roofs, trees and pavements. With singular persistence, or at least she thought so, the wind raged against her skin, which she carelessly left with no adequate protection of any coats or umbrellas. She walked lowering her head, with her arms crossed to tighten the light, blue dress she was wearing, trying to prevent being wet even by the squirts of the cars that overcame her, creating little waves in the dirty water of the pools along the pavement.

In the half-light of that boulevard, she made out a figure appearing and disappearing among the rare street lights. While it was getting nearer, she recognized it: a known face, the face of a friend. She was soaked through, the blue dress got completely drenched and the wind made her shiver. In spite of this, the thought of meeting a familiar someone who could carry her home, safe from all the remaining water and cold, gave her strength to smile warmly up at him. She slowed her pace, and when the boy was close enough she stopped and tried to capture his look. He raised his umbrella for a flying instant and murmured a casual “hello” followed by a quick smile. He immediately averted his eyes towards an indefinite point in the blankness in front of him, while hiding again his face behind his umbrella and stepping down the pavement to avoid touching her. He passed fast beside her, a moment that tasted like eternity; then he went on his way.

The water flowing down her face became abruptly salted.

So she started running home, confusing rain and tear drops, shivering with cold and shaking with rage.

She shut the door open and then slammed it; she rushed to the table where she sat down, still dropping. She caught a pen and a sheet of paper, and wrote.

I hate you

no time, no mercy

nowhere to hide

I hate you on my own

I hate you, I’ll make you drown

into your blood

into your breath

into your black

Die, I grasp your life

sand in my hand

your last beat will start mine


die in red

die on me


I hate you on my own

I hate you

Make you drown

into your blood

into your breath

into your black

Her tears were dry now; only her heart was crying. She got up, took a knife from the kitchen and went out, drenched as she was.

The door opened once again, less violently. A blooded knife dropped down on the floor. A light, transparent now, blue dress slipped slowly on the carpet, where it drew a big dark patch that kept on enlarging itself. A warm and pleasant shower jet replaced it; it formed on the mirror at the opposite wall a light veil, a haze of the soul, stunning of the heart. A warm and comfortable blouse wrapped now a restored body, eventually relaxed. A couch welcomed this body as a stone fallen from a skyscraper height, dragged down by events and situations. The stereo “play” button opposed no resistance and allowed itself to be pushed, so that a thousand notes spilled on that body pulsing with peace, caressing it and rolling over that now lukewarm skin.

Sliding down the velvety slope of sleep, she seemed to hear a muffled, low and continuous ring of a siren in a far away crescendo.

Copyright May 2004 by Eleonora Pizzi


Thanks to Simone Bosisio and the whole band of Malhazard for turning this story into a “therapeutic” song, screaming rage and blackness away: Into Your Black, Malhazard, from the album “Beyond The Horizon”, 2011. Myspace and Jamendo are there for you ’cause I know you feel the urgent need to listen to it. 

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