I’m just an old man, probably not long to live, who knows, heh, I bought my coffin some time ago, it sits dusty in the attic next to all my lifelong memories. Clothes, pictures, newspapers and many of the items my poor wife collected, God rest her soul. She left me some time ago, I think it will be a year ago this October. I had no children, I don’t know, God didn’t give me this gift.
Of course, I always wanted to have a little boy, I wanted to feel his heartbeat as I held him tight in my arms, I wanted to hear his laughter every morning, I wanted to feel like a man…but…the years of my life passed, like a breeze through the leaves of a tree in the middle of autumn. Honestly, now that I think about it, it seems rather sad, writing and reading these lines, I give myself a portion of the regrets I’ve had all my life. And believe me, there are many, maybe too many to remember, which is good, I guess. I don’t know, I feel like I have less and less time on my hands, but that’s why I chose to start writing this.
I didn’t want to tell anyone what happened to me, and I don’t want to, so I’ll hide these lines somewhere around the house, to be found only after my death. I think that was a very long introduction, I guess I’m just old and rambling.
Well, here is the story, or rather, the burden I have had to carry all my life. When I was younger, flaccid in strength, I think 21, I used to go out in the fields with the cows, being brought up in the country, that was my only occupation. I didn’t complain, the field was all mine, I was free to run through everything it had to offer. Packed from home, I had only a bottle of milk, tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese and bacon bits. It wasn’t much, that’s what we ate at home, but I was happy.
Oh, and don’t forget, we used to steal cigarettes from my father’s packet and smoke them in the field. I used to watch very carefully, lest any of the neighbours saw me, although my father smoked, he didn’t want me to be seen with the “damn thing”, as he called the cigarettes. So I’d take a deep drag, hide from any view, take out my cigar box, and puff the hell out of it. In the evening, when I got home, I was very careful not to smell of smoke, for obvious reasons.
My parents probably knew, but being of an age, I don’t think they were putting much emphasis on my education at that point. At that time, I had to find a mistress, I had to start my life, but there was plenty of time, although I was bothered by the looks of the old ladies sitting on the village benches and all the whispers behind my back, like “It’s Nicu’s boy, too bad he doesn’t marry”.
Forgive me if these lines seem very long, as an old man I like to talk, especially about how beautiful my life was back then. Well, one day, something terrible was going to happen, something that only Satan himself could imagine that I would do. You see, in that field, somewhere in the distance, there was a church, or rather, a not very big chapel. It was built on a not very steep ground, near a fountain, which I used to visit, but only if I was nearby, to water my cows, the water in the fountain was very clean, only good to serve my animals with it, which, most of the time, sat in the sun.
Not many people knew what that church was there, some said it was a former place of assembly for ceremonies, others that it was simply a normal church, some even said it was cursed. But one thing that was well known to all the people of different opinions was that there was a woman there. Some acquaintances in the village could swear with their hands on their hearts that at night, while they were in the vicinity for various reasons, they could observe this woman, called a witch, giving the church a hard time. According to them, she was wearing a brown dress, very dirty, she wore nothing on her feet, and the features of the girl, they could not observe, except that her hair was a very dark and tangled black.
To be honest, it never struck me that church, would be strange in any way. I had heard these stories, only after I was curious about its origins. I didn’t visit the place often, but even when I did, I never saw anything. Well, until this day, when I adapted my animals to that fountain. It was very hot outside, and I was pouring the last bucket of water into its spout. Without realizing it, I glanced around, just out of habit.
Somewhere, out of the corner of my eye, I could observe a figure in the corner of the church, it appeared to be a woman in her 40s, indeed, with very dirty clothes, and with a smeared black hair, but it shone in the sunlight. Reflexively, I turned my gaze to her, at which point she, stepped back, and ran off into the woods. Suddenly, everything was clear to me, in those moments, I believed those people, who could swear they saw her. Surely she was a witch, otherwise, what would she be doing out there alone, she didn’t seem to be a madwoman, from our brief glances that met for a few fractions,
I knew for sure she wasn’t a madwoman, she was aware of her surroundings, she was aware that I might harm her. She was a witch, otherwise, how had she survived until then? I decided to leave as soon as possible, my thoughts were racing through my head, thinking only of that wretch who was panning our village. Once home, I tried not to think too much, but I couldn’t, that was the truth. Maybe that’s why the animals in our yard were dying, maybe that’s why the dogs were barking at us all night, like they were trying to tell us something. I don’t know, in those moments, I could see how I could make a connection between her and the smallest trouble brought to the village.
I was determined, I wanted to get rid of the bitch, she had no business being near our village. So, that evening, I decided to do everyone a favor. After my parents fell asleep, I took an old wound of my father’s, stuffed it with straw, tendrils and coconuts, then set off. I had stolen two cigarettes from my father, which I would smoke before the rescue, and after.
I had a bumpy road, full of silly questions like “What if she’s married me” or “What if she’s not single”, but I was no worse for wear either, for 21, I looked pretty mature, and all the country work I’d done up to that point had taken its toll on my training.
An hour later, I had arrived on the scene, I was ready to burn down the church, I was determined to end the sins of the wretch. From the church, the shadows of several people could be seen walking here and there. But they were very faint, as if from a burning candle. It was clear to me, satanic things were happening there. I approached the door, very softly, lest I be heard, with each step, looking around for people…to my luck, there was nothing.
Gently, I placed the straw in front of the door, and with a match light, threw the coconuts and vines on it. The church door, as well as the church, was made of a now very dry wood, which in a few seconds, was contained by a fire that only a shower of holy water could stop. From inside, the screams of infants could be heard, accompanied by what seemed to be the witch’s cry for help. They screamed so loudly, they drowned out the sound of the wood burning brightly. I left there in a huff, proud of my feat. I didn’t know how to get home any faster, and tell everyone I had saved them from the witch. However, I didn’t have to, as I made my way home, I could see a lot of the village people heading towards the now burning church.
For the first time, fear gripped me, I felt my legs shaking, and something told me not to show myself in front of them. So I hid away from them, waiting for them to pass. I could hear various screams of horror coming from the crowd, and many men’s voices directing the other ostriches to hurry. Once they had passed a considerable distance from me, I ran home, the only thought that prevailed in my head being to go to bed. Probably, it was the best choice. When I was fooling around, I couldn’t wait to go to bed, as it was the only time of real quiet in those moments. I know you used to do that, too, whoever you are we were all children.
The next day, we were woken up by the priest in our village, who told us about the events at that church. Honestly, I’m tired of writing, my hand hurts, and I think I need to stop, but, maybe this is the only way I can truly find peace, continuing. Dear Mary, if from heaven you can read this, know that I’m sorry, maybe that’s why I didn’t have a child maybe that’s the curse I’ve had to live with all these years, years, in which I hope I haven’t questioned your faith in God by following my actions. Please forgive me for what I write next. At that time, news was given in the village about the flames that burned the church, and about how, nobody knows.
In all this sea of sin, the truth was an even crueler one. According to some villagers in the neighbouring village, the woman was not a madwoman or a witch. Her real name was Ileana. Ileana was a woman abused by her husband, who after countless bottles of alcohol, beat her, and threw her out of the house. The woman came from a poor family, and both her parents were dead.
Her only chance was her husband, who over the years, because of money, stress and their three children, who were having a hard time, had turned from a loving husband into a victim of alcohol, but to be honest, he was not the real victim, but Ileana, who moved into that abandoned church because she had no home. Villagers from the neighbouring commune said they helped her with food for the children, clothes, and many candles to provide light.
I was 21 years old at the time, now 79, and I haven’t forgotten for a day the sin I committed. I’m afraid to die, I’m afraid that I’ll meet my wife, and she won’t recognize the monster that ruined her life…but most of all, I’m afraid to see Ileana and her children…sometimes, I still hear them screaming from the church.