Writing has always saved me, it’s the bubble in which I hide from the world, the way I express what I cannot or don’t want to say, the way I get distracted. This time for the literary contest of 1000 characters, we had to write a story inspired by a painting by Edward Hopper that depicted a staircase and a door. The first thing that came to my mind was the secret hideout of Anne Frank, and for the first time I went out of my comfort zone and I wrote something absolutely foreign to my experience, although Anne was my model when I was a teenager, as Jo March was when I was a child.
I didn’t win by one vote, but the satisfaction of seeing my work on the top of the list, among the three that I liked more, it was gratifying. Enjoy it, in English first, then in Italian.
Miep had not been to Prinsengracht since the soldiers had unhinged the movable bookcase discovering the series of steps leading to the upper floor.
She looked at the staircase frightened: it seemed gloomy and hostile, yet it was the same one she had used many times to bring her friends some news, food, once even red shoes for the young Anne who with her
“It’s Miep”, was always the first to break the tense silence that created when someone opened the plain wooden door.
She began to climb, she trembled, and she had to hold on to the wooden handrail for support. She reached the top, she turned the gold knob and went in: no joyful voice announced it, no one came up to greet her.
She picked up a book from the floor and stood in the doorway staring at the messy room, the overturned chairs, the plates shattered as the hopes of Anne who despite living as a recluse, was able to think of the beauty that still remained in the world .
Miep non era più stata a Prinsengracht da quando i soldati avevano scardinato la libreria girevole scoprendo la serie di gradini che conduceva al piano superiore.
Guardò intimorita la scala: le sembrò tetra e ostile, eppure era la stessa che aveva usato molte volte per portare agli amici notizie, viveri, una volta persino delle scarpe rosse per la giovane Anne che con il suo
“È Miep”, era sempre la prima a rompere il silenzio carico di tensione che si creava quando qualcuno apriva quella porta di legno chiaro.
Iniziò a salire, tremava, tanto che dovette reggersi al corrimano di legno per non cadere. Arrivò in cima, girò il pomello dorato ed entrò: nessuna voce festosa l’annunciò, nessuno le venne incontro per salutarla.
Raccolse un quaderno da terra e rimase sulla soglia a fissare la stanza in disordine, le sedie rovesciate, i piatti andati in frantumi come le speranze di Anne che, nonostante la vita da reclusa, riusciva a pensare alla bellezza che ancora rimaneva nel mondo.
TRACK OF THE DAY: Holy War-Toto