Thursday, April 19, 2012

The night Patrizia met the Pixies.

Patrizia could not sleep. She lay on her bed. She closed her eyes.

 She could hear the trees sighing in the breeze. She lay on her back. She could hear the gentle wind move the leaves making a soft sound. She lay on her stomach.  She could hear the house move, a soft creaking. Sshe turned on her side. Then she turned on her back again.

She really could not sleep. Oh how difficult, how absurdly difficult! And the more she tried the harder it became. She thought of the days work ahead. She thought of interesting things and she thought of dull things.She thought about the number of Fiats in Bari, and began counting how many might park all the way down  Via Giuseppe Mazzini if one allowed 60 centimetres at the in front of each car. She thought about how many stitches were in her mothers pyjamas. She wondered why insects have six legs when all the other creatures seem happy with four, and what people drank in the mornings before coffee was invented.

Then she heard the sound of voices, from under her window. She thought, how silly. I must be going crazy from lack of sleep.

She hear a tapping coming from the window. It is only a little bird, thought Patrizia.  

The she heard, a faint melody, of the sound of a piccolo, perhaps; then  more clearly:

"Patrizia! Patrizia! Open the window!"

...and could no more resist She went over to the window, where she saw three little Pixie faces.


Years later, in lugubrious moments in her office, Patrizia's mind would often drift to that enchanted night. 

How the three Pixies lowered had Patrizia to the to the ground, placing her delicately on her huge feet: then  a gentle small hand took her left, and then her right hand, and two green clad men led Patrizia skipping into the night, through the long grass and over a fence: they laughed as they nearly tripped past laurels and elms.

 They were joined by more and more Pixies, all dressed in green, one with a tambourine, another with a ukulele; a third and fourth carried a huge basket of food, a fifth hauled a cart which held a gigantic flagon of wine. One rode a goat, another a huge mouse.

They made their way down to down to a clearing by the river, where she heard nightingales and laughter and the crackling of a fire and saw yet more Pixies, who cried "come close, the fire is warm" and fed her marshmallows and made her smile with the way they quarreled over the flagon. The Pixies sang lewd songs about the mating rituals of hedgehogs and rabbits, which made her laugh and blush until the morning.

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