Help me
You could barely hear a sound when you sat near the edge of the lake. On nice days, you just heard the soft sound of the wind blowing across the sparkling blue. Most residents complained that they heard the boy's voice near the evening, but in a loud, commanding voice, waking them up. While most people had known Charlie just a little, they felt sure he never spoke in that way. In the words of the clergyman, "it must have been the devil."
It couldn't have been that gentle English boy who used to spend his summers in that isolated Abruzzi town.
They had felt sorry for him, really. He hadn't made many friends, and had been teased for a slight lisp and his pale skin, earning him the title of "mozzarella."
Bomba Lake had since been abandoned by all, even though it had been a coincidence that this had coincided with Charlie's vanishing. Some superstitious old people said the lake had eaten him up, or that someone had put the evil eye on him. Or maybe one of the African immigrants had put a voodoo curse on him, to pay for the sins of white folk against black men since the beginning of time.
In any case, Charlie's haunting of the town was the only thing that had happened in Bomba Lake for years. It even gave media a chance to visit the place again and interrogate some citizens.
It starts with a scratching noise, they all said, a bit after dinner. Many complained about nightmares. But it got them all thinking about Charlie, and how kind and strange he was.
His case was never solved. The last person who had seen him was the local priest, Father Carminelli.
"Oh he was a nice kid, for sure! Helped me out at the trattoria! "
Antonio Crotone had lived near Bomba Lake for a lifetime. And loved it.
It the morning you could see him in his canoe drifting out to catch the local type of carp. He was a kind man, not like all of the locals.
The high school kids were not as kind. Charlie hadn't been well integrated and all of them made fun of him after they had caught him doing some kind of ceremony in the woods.
Laura was the ringleader of the popular kids and described the incident to Shelley Ransin, who had come from the States to investigate the story.
"He had built a fire in the middle of summer, and had laid out all these sticks and flowers in front, and he was praying, or chanting, i dont know what really. " Laura's English was almost perfect, just with that charming Italian accent. She was considered the most attractive young woman in town, and it had gone to her head.
"He looked like he was possessed or something, kind of like that Emily Rose movie on Netflix. " Laura looked disgusted.
"The other kids kind of roughed him up a bit, but nothing serious. We were kind of scared. He seemed like a kind of wizard or something. "
Shelley later discovered that Charlie had been severely beaten and tied up, and if it weren't for Antonio who passed by and heard his muffled screams, he could have died.
The incident was hushed up at school. In the early 90s bullying wasn't such a catchphrase as nowadays, and Charlie was undeniably strange. He had lived with his spinster aunt since he was 6, from whom he had learned the art of basket weaving and other typically feminine tasks, ar least it was seen so at the time. Aunt Anto had dark skin and was short and broad. She had ebony eyes and reminded one of an Apache. She scared people too, had the habit of showing up when you least expected it.
Charlie was good at school and very shy. He enjoyed reading about the Navajo and Apache myths and legends. Sometimes he would sit out by the lake and imagine all the animals revered by the Native Americans dancing over it. He especially liked the stories of the Raven, and he even prepared a long presentation for his history class, as Mrs. Orlando has encouraged him. But the kids tore him to shreds: his hand-me-down clothes, unstylish haircut, his gentle smile. He was the antithesis of cool.
When he got back to his seat, he was trembling. He asked to be excused. When he went to the restroom, he looked in the mirror, and could swear for a moment he could see for one frozen moment the shape of a raven behind him, scaring him with a loud caw. It swooped towards him, staring at him with its beady eyes.
"Heeeeelp! Aiutoooo! "
His own voice scared him. He looked around but the raven had disappeared. His classmates rushed in to see what was the matter, but in a moment had burst into stifled laughter, finding Charlie staring out the window, with a glassy stare.
"Mozzie mozarellinooo!!! "
What a loser.
Charlie turned around to find himself face-to-face with the most dateable hoochie mama of the class, and boy was he flustered. To make it worse, she came up real close and stared at him.
"Hey honey, gotta date for prom?"
Charlie was so startled he stepped backwards and slipped on some water on the floor, almost falling directly into the urinal. The class 3B was in stitches.
"Che coglione!" Mrs. Orlando reprimanded the class and tried to help him up, but suddenly Charlie stood up and fled, leaving her furious with her class.
"You are all suspended, and if you don't convince me, you'll ALL repeat the year!!"
The raven was still watching, invisible in the corner. He would have his way, sooner or later.
