33 abandoned stories

Movie of the week, because  I don’t know

This week’s post, along with the upcoming 32 or so, is inspired by a photo editorial roaming around the internets, showing pictures of 33 abandoned places around the world. I found it through Etgar Keret, another writer I’d like to write like…like whom I’d like to write..with which…  From his Facebook page, after I had read his book Suddenly a Knock On the Door from cover to cover, and took on board his suggestion that a story or script might be written about each place. It will be as much an exercise in imagination as an apology to the stories, ideas and poems I’ve abandoned, especially lately, due to lethargy and solipsism. It seems appropriate in the year after the apocalypse.

As much as I’d like to skip to the train depot one, I’ll follow the article’s order, so here is number 1.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/awesomer/the-33-most-beautiful-abandoned-places-in-the-world

Christ of the Abyss at San Fruttuoso, Italy

Padre Antonio wrung his hands in the vestibule and shuffled his feet before reaching the pulpit. When he looked up, it was just as he expected. Hardly anyone present. The two members of the congregation were trying to hold on to the last bits of the miracle, and Padre Antonio didn’t know what they expected him to do.

Weeks ago, he was awoken at the break of day by his curate, asking him to come outside. In the garden, the fisherman’s moustache twanged with expectation; he explained that he and the other fishermen had seen something from the boat. At first, they had thought it was a large fish, but there could never be such a large fish in these parts, and the shadow didn’t move, even though they sat in the quiet dawn for an hour, staring at the water.

“Was the shadow bigger than your boat, Alessandro?” Antonio asked him.

“It was bigger than two boats, Padre.”

Antonio looked into his eyes for signs of inebriation, but they were just as sober and frightened as they had been minutes ago.  At the gate he met the other fishermen and a crowd that had formed from the village, and they all set out together for the shore as the sun came up. Alessandro was told to bring someone on the boat with him and go back to the spot where they had witnessed the shadow. Maybe things would become clearer in the light of day. Antonio waved to the boat that drifted on the clear water and turned the see the whole town congregated on the beach, looking at him expectantly, some wringing their hands. He made a decision and felt the sun’s warmth embrace him.

“Figli miei,  I ask that we, gathered here on this most blessed day, bow together and give thanks. I had a dream during the night that San Fruttuoso del Sottomarino came to whisper in my ear, as I sat on this very spot, that he would bless our town by inserting a statue of our Lord within our waters. That our sea may be blessed with an abundance of fish, that our trade with our neighbours might soar, and that our textile industry might take a new turn for the better, all its workers happy in the new prosperity, contributing to the well-being of our happy village. I ask that you join me in prayer, that we give thanks to San Fruttuoso for a new age of prosperity and productivity for all.”

When he lifted the veil of his eyelids, Antonio looked on a sea of faces rejoicing, and he joined his palms together peacefully.

“But Padre, how do we really know San Fruttuoso put a statue of our Lord in our waters?”

Antonio went up to Felipe, the bar-owner, and smiled into his calm eyes, then placed a kiss on his sylvan forehead. Alessandro’s boat headed back towards the shore.

“My child, we must believe. If we believe in the statue at the bottom of the sea, San Fruttuoso will bless this wonderful village, and give us all that we desire. Our saint appeared to me in a dream and brought to me the vision of what this statue will bring, and San Fruttuoso doesn’t just go around placing statues underwater, volente o nolente.”

Antonio went to meet the fishermen, and locked eyes with Alessandro.

“And did you see our Lord underwater, my son? Did you see his arms outstretched amongst the fishes?” he smile-shouted.

Alessandro gazed at the happy crowd, who seemed distracted and wasn’t paying as much attention.

“Yes, Padre, I saw the statue of our Lord. And more fishes in the sea than I have ever seen in these thirty or so years I’ve been a fisherman. But Padre, how did this happen?”

And Padre Antonio put his arm around Alessandro’s shoulder and explained about his vision, and they all went to Lucia’s cafe to celebrate with gelatto.

From that point on, the village prospered, and its citizens became productive and successful just like in Padre Antonio’s vision. With the extra prosperity and productivity, they built three more churches, one big one, and two not so big ones. Eventually, they became too busy  exporting their textiles to neighbouring countries, and cultivating their fish delicacies for the growing number of tourists to go to Lucia’s cafe, or Felipe’s bar, or hang out at the beach making dresses or sweaters for their sweethearts. Or even fishing. They began importing fish because the fishermen were tired from all the fishing, so they began working in the numerous new churches, making San Fruttuoso del Sottomarino relics and accessories for their houses and for the tourists.

Felipe was sitting alone at his bar, waiting for Fidelma, listening to his records. Nobody came in anymore, and he had nothing to do, but sit around listening to records, occasionally going fishing by himself. He got up from his stool and shut the lights and went outside, just as Fidelma was coming in.

“Where are you off to?” she asked him.

“I’m going to go see this statue that our blessed saint has put in our waters. Maybe have some visions of my own, you know?”

Fidelma tried to keep up with him on the shore, telling him he was being silly, and to come back. But Felipe was already taking off his clothes, and went into the water with an LP he had snatched on his way out of the bar. Something to lean on, in case he got tired swimming. Fidelma watched him go in, and swim until she couldn’t see his shiny back in the moonlight anymore. She sat on the sand and waited, then she lay down and waited. When she opened her eyes, the sun was shining and her feet were wet. Felipe hadn’t returned, but she didn’t cry because he didn’t like people crying. She found pieces of algae that she began to weave together, and waited a bit longer.

Felipe didn’t return the next day either. At the end of the week, they held a wake at the bar, and avoided the church for a while. Fidelma opened up the bar at the end of the month and some of the kids in the village came in to learn weaving and listen to music.

Years later, some travellers were scuba-diving off the coast of San Fruttuoso, looking for the lost underwater statue. They found the ruins of the old city, and fishes swimming happily around some sort of moss-covered vinyl.