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    Ophelia Gig’s Tale
    Ophelia Gig’s Tale
    Ophelia Gig’s Tale
    Ebook80 pages1 hour

    Ophelia Gig’s Tale

    By Edda Tassi

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    About this ebook

    It's a fairy tale as cruel as all loved fairy tales from children and adults. It comes from episodes of a true story, suddenly revived in the prophetic form, almost in a way a comic novel would. A shocking story of a love supreme, more powerful than any evil power, even of death, of money, of the temporary fame of the beloved stars from Hollywood; irreverent and funny.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateJun 16, 2013
    ISBN9781483502557
    Ophelia Gig’s Tale

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      Book preview

      Ophelia Gig’s Tale - Edda Tassi

      Contents

      English version

      Originale versione in Italiano

      English version

      She pulled off the white plates with the red writings with her nails, trying to erase the most possible of the light trace on the wall. No one should have said that there had been there a private practice.

      She blew the candles up the stairs and closed the doorway once and for all behind her back.

      The night itself took the longest train available at the station and never came back to that shitty town, not even in its thoughts, or at least for a long, long time.

      Until the morning in which Ophelia received a peculiar letter with no signature suggesting her to show up again, in friendship, at least for a few days in those places that she knew just like her empty pockets.

      A mysterious no-profit exotic travels agency called Australe-boreale made her an offer that couldn’t be refused.

      "Dearest miss, we suggest you take into account our offer of recreation which will cost you nothing, no matter where you are right now. In the fastest means possible, you will be taken back to the place you escaped from in a youthful mistake which can be easily made up for.

      Be sure to use always and only the code Australe-boreale; better, at the beginning of your adventure repeat to yourself Boreale several times; and anybody will please you the way you prefer.

      Your sincerely, some old friends from lost days."

      It is to be said that Ophelia Gig was living such an economic situation that calling it precarious would be too little. In less than two years she had spent all of her parents’ money, without really seeing what was going on all around. But she had been living at the top, the way she always dreamed, maybe even a little more, meaning that she had been living the good life beyond her desires, sometimes driven by certain companies, the kind of spendthrift she was not.

      Ophelia, on her own, she content herself with little, and yet she was satisfied in those years just like in the past.

      She was unable to stay alone, because the others stick on her never to shove off.

      If she ever made it to break free, it always was through violent means. Who cares.

      With the passing of the time there were no more wounds nor scars. Rooms, houses quietly left after listing well what to pack up urgently and what to leave for the poorest that were staying.

      It didn’t matter, The last friend Muam and his terrible songs which Ophelia disliked so much, since she was born to listen only to the music from the last century.

      There had to be something she regret, and Muam had been kind, he never asked for anything. He appreciated Ophelia’s noisy hilarity, when she was in an inspired day in which she content herself with a free dinner, a beer to fill with dreams a firmament that is more than high already. She hadn’t been forbidden to do that.

      Miss Gig evaluated very carefully her situation and decided to accept the challenge, since she was curious to know how she would have ever found the damned town, light years away from Muam, from the basement, recording room and rehearsal room, hidden underground so that nobody could find it.

      Pocket money. Gig, you will miss me, you know. Come back when you like, we’re friends, also, I mean, right? said the musician gently pushing her out the door.

      I’ll go and be right back. I don’t give a shit, but there is something you need to know, or you’ll think that I ‘m some kind of nostalgic or even worse. Somebody is going pay me a rich check at the end of the trip. If I don’t come back here, we’ll see each other somewhere else, you never know.

      So miss Gig found herself lonely as stray dog, sad because she thought back at the candles up the narrow stairs in the ancient private practice.

      Whatever. After many years she was more than certain to have left behind all forms of anger and impotence. At least she said so.

      Certainly, Ofelia did not expect adventures, but a decent return upon request of someone surely moved by pity for her and her breakaways around the world, in search of what they had taken from her by treason.

      She was still enough naive to believe in these things, since she didn’t even have in mind the vague possibility of a showdown with atavistic hostility, a trap so well set to take care of them once and for all.

      To stay in the place of shit, Ofelia only had to abandon her bizarre ideas about life e about how she was willing to live it. She had to be quiet and listen. There was nothing decent in sight.

      First they encouraged her, then they suddenly took back the plate in which she was eating, because this was the way it had to be. E she would have wanted to understand and forgive.

      Instead, she reacted in a unexpected manner, succeeding in surprising those who saw her already set and done. No more dreams. Those are lived by those who never dream e doesn’t even notice.

      "From where do wish to

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