Howard felt sick one morning in late April. There was a reason, not one specific reason, a "causative reason", the Court would say. And nothing happened. There, within the walls of the one house that really felt it. In Providence, in the den of his creation, his living nell'ovatta anesthetized. He would have to rearrange them, make a sober and dry as usual breakfast the affection of her aunts, he would have to go out, have a browse of the newspaper and then covered with a quick pace towards home. Sitting at the usual desktop window that opened onto the garden and look fly on the keys of his "Remington". With all the ardor of those months, the ardor of that expectation of a European trip, the excitement of opening a new route. In writing, imagining, nell'autogerminare hideous monsters and dreamlike situations. He should have.
did not.
was while you brush your nails with soap and water. With the usual irrational irritation. Tank top, in front of his bathroom mirror, gave a quick first pass, then a second, then bringing the fingers bent into the palm, up his nose. To better observe them. A tiny black spot on the nail of the middle right hand was bela presents itself. Two other past will not improve the situation and, indeed, more Howard intensified the depth of his rub with a small brush, this seemed to buy more intensity in the white of the exposed nail in the pink than resting on the meat.
nails were its magnificent, slender fingers, long, slender hands. Strong hands and beautiful. Nervous that morning, he dropped the tool and nail of the left eye of trying to blow up what could be an inlay, who knows what to bore her. The sensitivity of the left did not catch no boss, no lump-porous. That spot was there but not as an offshoot unnatural, just there. Manifested itself, had grown up quell'unghia tiny well-kept. Of the middle finger on his right hand.
nervous shooting the brush and repeat the operation. Again. And again and again. But, nothing. Rational
began to think of blowing up the nail with a pair of scissors, then judge too drastic that project, then fell back on the possibility of scraping with a file. Keeping the fingers bent to the right palm under the nose, as he wandered into the bathroom to find a solution, sat on the edge of the tank, baffled, then open the drawer of the cabinet under the sink white and pulled out the file. Began frantic, precise scratching. In short, syncopated movements on a tiny area. And more to increase its commitment, the higher your scratching grew powerful and delicate at the same time, the more his senses yielded. A crash. A door that had a door opened and the order of his memories began to shake and something was moving in with the incredible effect of an image impossible. As a huge rock that moves on the wave of high tide, like a mountain that folds under the pressure of abundant snow and glaciers, river or diverting its course to the emergence and blossoming of a tree in the bed.
At first they were like lightning from a clear sky, flashes of bright light that illuminates a dark and painful eternal, that break and shatter objects used to the darkness and beat and kicked dust accumulated over the decades.
"Howy else can you do to me?"
"I want to make you a queen"
"And when will I be?"
"I'll be your king and watch over all this,"
"... watch over this world ". The filing was made by Howard whisper in the proceeding, as part of tiny gnomes who make their discomfort a choir, in a bath full of white lightning.
"There are things that I told you. I would still talk to you
Where can I find? "
nail powder dissolved in the air and his eyes bulged Howard bent, then the battle was won by black and stopped the file, while the man sat on the ground under the sink. Like a child broke a toy of paper.
With a flick of the elbow to the liver, his aunt had woken
"Howard watch the sermon. Do not distract ... "She had whispered. Then with eyes had severe resting his gaze on the other row of seats and had understood.
"When we get home we'll talk about Howard Phillips Lovecraft, and what you do not like it."
He had adjusted his collar and placed the tie. Her glossy hair parted to the right and his blond slave is disturbed by those grim threats.
serene smile and mischievous, casting a last glance that fell a few feet away on Charlotte Ripple. Like a dove flying fast in the church, he found one nest in that smiled on him.
"Charlotte Ripple is not for you Howard. His mother was married three times, his father ran away from home, his stepfather did not good name, do not want you to frequent "The elder of her aunts, she had observed aggressive when we got home just in front of windows overlooking the garden. What would become the view from his studio.
"Then he is too old for you. He has already 19 years and a look ... a look I do not like "
Howard sipped the second sermon folded on the plate, with the joy of that glimpse into the heart, the smile of a teenager who became man, the blessed unconsciousness those who do not listen.
"do as we told you?"
"Certainly, Aunt Lilian. I will do as you said "
" Well, remember that Howard "
Memories Howy our first kiss? "She stood up shooting from his chest, a few hours later, and receiving looked a bit 'weird. His big eyes and tousled hair with pine needles that seemed ornarla, made her even more beautiful. Providence could give in the summer of beautiful lights and dark intense during the winter. Opposites that never ceased to value the blond Charlotte, her green eyes that turn brown in winter, her freckles scattered around the nose that seemed to disappear when it was cold.
"Of course I remember, I'm just past few months, not forever .. Or maybe I'm wrong ... That was not the first kiss with you" He smiled sobbing, her head leaning against the tree
"hateful" She had trimmed back a handful of the liver. Always the same. This time he had not heard.
"Well .. sincere" dragged down by giving and receiving a kiss so intense that their bodies seemed to merge into a real one. Ripple
Charlotte had a year older than Howard. He had loved her from the start, at least a couple of years ago, when their eyes were crossed and then kidnapped the store away. You for a basket of prunes, him for the meal. Do you already in hat and veil to mimic the ladies of Boston, to peel him in short trousers, the knees with his comrades. Lovecraft never really thought no, but that was one of the last times that he put the shorts.
From the touch of the looks of that day, the automatic appointment had been fixed. Twice a week, at the same time, spread over days. Him for the meal, she for the fruit. She, sweetly sadistic to delay a moment, to prevaricate nell'emporio him restless in anticipation of seeing you arrive.
The first time I had touched was the fault of an orange.
Howard had been asked to buy some generic 'fruit had expected, he saw her appear, had gone along with her smile and receiving comments shared in the basket of oranges. Immediately there was catapulted. Their hands had been raised "involuntary" under the eyes of the unaware Mr. Buff. That moment had lasted hours, days, thoughts of Howard.
him with her fingers grazed the back, she had surrounded the palm, giving it its heat. They had looked at, without saying anything. The making and strengthened a love in a young heart is not to explore. But print is like blood in wet cement and malleable, easy to impress, can not be erased over the years. In the rare lucky quest'impronta remains docile and serene soul, in others it s'incatena the deep and said, then, the pace of future all the emotions that love can refer. From
exploration and love and its implications, such as those who knew Howard month later, frantic touch each other, the first whispered words and the first secret meeting.
and others to follow, culminating in the first kiss, on the same lawn, under the same plant.
"I love Charlotte" He then mumbled him that Sunday afternoon, after the two Sunday sermons.
"I do more" had raised her, smiling in a perhaps slightly too pale. Same as the young writer had always been considered as a secret especially the almost ethereal beauty. Incredibly her.
"Then we will stay together, I find a job soon, so I will marry you "How was distant aunt Lilian. It seemed that there were no other words to the world that we are about this and that everything, absolutely everything revolved around them and they were finalized. It was a story as old as the world, in short: the two guys who love the simplicity of a young heart, yet so unique in their "whole world".
"I'll talk to my mother," he told The Charlotte "My stepfather will not look forward to going"
"I will not need to talk to anyone. I'll know. "
"Howy else can you do to me?" He had, serene, the young woman to lean back on his chest, after a moment of meditation.
"I want to make you a queen" He simply said the boy
"And when will I be?" He chased her, like a child.
"I'll be your king and watch over this world together."
that it was then silence. Howard had heard the whisper of the breath of Charlotte that he fell asleep and had been watching a bit 'up among the branches of oak, to the sun that it was cloud, the clouds that were running fast. The shadow had moved, some ant had climbed on his hand resting on the lawn and thought a simple, docile as an emotion that was experienced, full and overwhelming when pulsed made him sleep.
He thought how nice it would be that day of great decisions, not ever end. Not because he feared the future, but because he was sure of that emotion that took him healthy and vigorous, he was sure of her, she trusted and felt now that he felt that the flavor of life was a beautiful thing, when it was tested and explored.
That was the moment when the soul of a boy becomes a man's true, the moment of immense beauty that a man talk about the future and preparing our hearts to face it, the extreme fragility of the moment in which the gods of life, should send an angel to protect you. And they must do to ward off any corruption, any stroke than non-organic music. What, strong, and must start from the heart, healthy, has to come to mind. Untouched, like a flow of life.
Howard was leaning against the cold wall under the sink. It stayed that way. With open arms and abandoned the small brush on the belly and head slightly bowed. While his memory gave him rest a moment, eyes and subtle deflate he had time to give a logical explanation. She resigned to the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving gone too far, too long to have chained his emotions, having played without layering effect. One another, making sure that the most powerful, most important, able to cheat with a game of gambling, regularly end up under that shuffled deck fast. So what were the latest to threaten to emerge. Always.
"Then why?" He said. Why now emerged sobbing and the feminine "... remember quell'amoretto despicable?".
What changed? Where was wrong? In what was jamming the mechanism is oiled?
The answer could be found in the face of Sonia in the hands of Charlotte, in the arms of women who had not loved. Why do not you play with your heart, do not detach plugs, unless you are sure you did not need that vital current that also brings you sorrow, but you talk about living life at the moment when runs through el'attraversi. So what to live, to emotion, to pulsing you removed when you did not have to live your current returns. With no apparent sense, without a material logic, but to close old accounts. Themselves.
When he died on his lucid moment, beginning to sob in the bathroom sink of his, Howard accepted him with a sense of liberation and surrendered to what was not a mere memory, but also hear a ticking . metronome in his love life. It was a sound
unwholesomely irregular.
The first day he thought of domestic commitments, which the strange mother submitted the right way: vent to a personal way of life not quite regular. A soap for the home, in an afternoon of mud, the cleaning of an unknown number of windows in the morning that threatened rain, gardening, during the hottest hours of the hottest noon.
the second day, having no friends in common and nemmanco involuntary complicity of strangers, began to take a ride around his home, already suspicious. Noting the shutters half-closed and a lack of internal movement that really began to worry.
the third day the first levee had broken, "Charlotte is not" He'd grunt in the face of her stepfather, a huge man transformed in the belly, with a few hair, a bald face and a tone that brooked no reply.
the fourth day of silence on the part of Charlotte, however, Howard had broken through the inertia and smashed all the banks in what was one of the few times in his life. He dodged the father of the girl at the entrance and was then projected up the stairs to the room of his beloved. Not before he peeked around. With moving eyes and looked frantic as she would never had.
"My little there-had told her mother, a woman weeping and dapper - we did admit the other day. It 'been sick at night four days ago ... "
" Where now? "Howard shouted, shaking off the arms of his stepfather in the meantime had reached the second floor. Charlotte's mother spoke to him from the back of the room, almost not wanting to be an escort.
"They took her to the hospital. But who are you? What do you want from her? "The trick over the hours trickled down her cheeks. The boy had looked and listened with clenched fists through the body, with the light of aggression unknown facts, unusual, undiscovered. He had no time to despise her. He cast a last look at
flaccid host, ready to trim a head. He stayed and left.
ran to the house, got into the room, took all books that were within range, knock down the iron box with four pennies in savings, he put a blue jacket, took the stairs. Without face her aunts in the meantime the group had done in the bottom of the ramp. In an attempt to stop him, one of which made him drop the bag. It came out almost all the books and the young Phillips Lovecraft did not bother to collect them.
Within moments it was already down the street, with his jutting chin and thin lips, his frenetic pace that makes it even slimmer, more lean with the shoulder bag.
When it was on the threshold of the room, outside paid visits to the hospital in Providence, weeping the nun who had made him indulgent way, Howard went to the bed of his future bride. Without wondering what was the evil bastard that if she was carrying on, without wondering if and how he was ready. He was only 18 years, did not think about his future, he did not think his reason, he had no knowledge of its limits and perception of writing inextricably part of his affective history at that time. Football like his final mark in the wet cement of his fate and did so with the instinct of a brave man el'incoscienza boy. Ideal match to get hurt twice.
Charlotte, covered to her chin and her hair spread on the pillow, he looked up and smiled infinity with a pale golden incarnation. He pulled out a hand and touched the deck to Howard, as he sat down.
"Do not worry Howy" he whispered with a smile slowly
"Soon I'll be fine .. Then I'll be all for you" Howard smiled at her and then tried not to cry again.
The sister had advised him not to have physical contact with her, if he forgot him and kissed her on the mouth.
"I stand here with you, Charlie ... I stand here with you."
She smiled and fell asleep, allowing his companion to begin to sob silently with bowed head and a hand to his forehead.
Charlotte Ripple had little less than twenty years old when he died of fulminant hepatitis, a few days later. He had beside him his man that was little more than a boy. The young blond had remained close since that time, for three days and three nights. He had held her hand, he had spoken with her, so softly, almost as if confessing love love. In the long pauses at night, then, the young Lovecraft had devoured the only book that was left in the bag after his escape from the house of the aunts. If it was read in three horns, a part of every night, as if that enthusiasm, that could somehow be enraptured help, what should have been the only woman in his life.
In the hustle and bustle of visits during the day, when coughing and Clubs soft moans of the dormitory to the hospital in Providence, Howard prepared his way to that final separation. He did, as a self-paced course, inspired by the nature of his soul. So deep, so reach the end foreignness with an incredible imagination. In the heart of this young writer as the seed germinated dell'anestetizzarsi, the switch off, when the pain became so strong that it can lead to self-destruction immediately. He is not included, sitting on that wooden chair at the side of his beloved that blew, did not understand what was happening, how profoundly unnatural and horrible that there was in making something else that terrible pain that, yes I understood this, he would have scored. Forever.
was like a survival instinct, one that did not shed a tear, when the doctor on duty the morning of the fourth day, I certify the death of Charlotte.
remained silent with her hands clasped between her thighs, looking at the sheet that covered her face, before they take her. Then he put the book in his bag with a slow movement and in doing so, the black nails looked tired and redundant tap.
He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, moistened with saliva and then began to rub her fingers. Only after this step, stood up and walked away. While away
in the hallway of the dormitory, the only thought emerged. It was simple: a lightweight absurd. A sentence desfogliata feelings and passions and personal material needs of pregnant unnaturally: "There are things that I told you. I would like to talk to you again. Where can I get you? ".
Almost twenty years after Howard stretched out under a wet sink and allowed the thought of what he lost, he had the face by a delicate feature of Charlotte, or severe physical traits of Sonia. Like a circle that closes, an emotion that completed the full circle of his life and gave him the peace of a delayed crying and comforting.
That morning he had no mood to write.
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