The Mysterious Treasure Of Rome

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Although my initial economic idea was more predictable, because people are no longer governed only by the quantity of weapons they have, but by their quality and logistical capacity, elements that in my equations were difficult to assess and to evaluate.

Being distracted while engaged in these thoughts, I suddenly heard somebody scream. It came from the place where the little girl, who had given me the flower, had gone.

I looked everywhere and no one seemed to pay attention to that scream. It went for a few seconds and then it was silenced by the noisy coming and going of people on the street.

I stood still for a moment and a strange thought came to my mind. Maybe the little girl was in danger. A chill went up from my spine to my neck, and suddenly I started running toward the street where I had last seen her, since nobody seemed to care about the scream for help that I had heard.

I then left my fellow travelers without even telling them anything, as I did not yet know where I was going. I ran very fast a few hundred feet almost without breathing, until I stopped all of a sudden at the end of the street, that now branched in two.

I looked everywhere anxiously and surprised. Just a little while ago I had heard the little girl and now I could see her nowhere. No chance she could have run so much in such a short time, as I had done it. That meant that by now I should be seeing her. However, different from the crowded square I had just left, here I could see no one.

It would have been very useful to ask any bystander if they had seen a little girl pass by, but finding no one, I did not know what to do. I could go down one street or the other, but how far? for how long was I going to continue my search?

Although I did not know the little girl at all, to think she might be in danger was worrying me, to say the least, and I did not want to get back, but on the other hand, it seemed useless to keep running aimlessly through these streets.

The only way she could have disappeared was if somebody was carrying her in his arms. I saw no other possibility, since she could not have gone that far on foot.

I came back quite unhappy and worried, disappointed that I could not help her, short of breath due to the effort, when I saw that half way down the street to the right, there was a small door that I had not seen when I passed by running.

I nervously walked down the street again from the very beginning to see if there were any more doors, but I found no other one, “is it possible that they took her this way?” I wondered in front of the little door that was just only a bit higher than my chest.

I put my hands on that old wooden door, swollen by moisture, and I pushed to see if it gave way, because it had no knocker or latch. After a few attempts, the door gave in and it opened with a shocking squeak, like old bikes do when they are rusty after a long time with no use.

I stopped in front of that dark opening, not sure if I would get in or not, because for sure it was a private property where nobody had invited me to come in. Besides, it was very unlikely the little girl had gone in there, because in that case I would have heard that peculiar sound……. Unless the door was already open when they grabbed her.

I stuck my head in to see what was behind this swollen old wooden door. All I could see was a deep and vast darkness, with an intense smell of moisture, more typical of places near the sea, where the moisture in the air drenches the walls, corroding them and forming a sort of saltpeter that peels and cracks them.

I stood there enduring the stench, waiting until my eyes got used to the darkness, trying to locate some object inside, and at the same time trying to hear some noise, no matter how small, but it was of no use. There was no sound at all. I could only hear my breathing, and all I could see was an absolute darkness. I then assumed the door probably led to a closed, cold and damp room.

But what could that be? Maybe an old groceries warehouse or the abandoned cellar of some house.

With great care and announcing my presence in case there was somebody inside that sinister place, I decided to come in.

I left the door open to avoid bumping into any object, but it did not do much good because that black darkness turned into a thick gloom, where my shadow was cast as a sinuous and ghostly silhouette on the background wall.

After almost falling down three descending steps I had not noticed, I recovered, and trying not to bump into anything, I walked very slowly until I came across a wall.

There were probably less than six feet from the door to the end of that gloomy room, and there seemed to be no other access, a dead end.

There was no way the girl could have gone in there. And if she did it was not out of her own will. Where could she be? I ran out of ideas, so I continued doing what I had been doing so far, exploring that little room as if I were clutching at straws.

I continued feeling with my hands every inch of that room, until I found a slit in the wall. It was the frame of another door, which I touched next.

Its rough and moist touch was very similar to the one I had to push in to gain access to this gloomy room.

I slid my hand down its front trying to feel the knob to open it, but I could not find it. I just found a hole at the height of my belly button, which I guess would be the keyhole.

I pushed hard as I had done with the front door, but it did not move. Since it did not give in, I thought maybe it would open up towards me, so I tried to pull it, sticking my fingers as I could into that tiny thing of a lock, but all my effort was for nothing, because it did not open in that direction either.

I crouched down to the opening of the door, to see if I could at least see something through it, and the only thing I could see, quite partially, was a square courtyard, similar to a cloister, surrounded by columns set up like bars of a jail cell.

They seemed to guard and protect a number of large paintings that hung on the walls. Nothing helped to me identify the place, for stately homes like this I had already seen several that morning. However, I did not see the girl nor any other person I could ask for help to move that heavy door. I had to resign myself to my crushing failure. Knowing I could no longer do anything for that little girl and that my companions, once they finished their visit to the church where I left them would be looking for me, I went back to the square with the fountain in the center, from where I had left.

I still was uneasy for the little girl who just a moment ago, before she disappeared, had given me that delicate flower, but I was not even sure that something had happened to her.

I went back to where my teammates were already waiting for me, looking for me around. After reassuring them I was OK, and asking them how their visit was, we went to the next street, and soon a new building to visit appeared before our eyes.

Again I stayed outside, this time sheltered under the shade of a balcony so that I would not get too much sun.

Being there, somewhat calmer, having recovered from the earlier emotions, I remembered I had lived something similar before, a very awkward situation of my past, which I thought it was by then forgotten, diluted by the passage of years, but now remembered as if I were living it again at that very moment.

That time I should have done something, but out of fear or of cowardice I did nothing. Not sure if she would have been saved if it had been only me.

I mean my sister, when we were little, I still was not seven years old and she was only about five.

It happened on a hot day like today, at the swimming pool of the base, to which we belonged because our father was in the military. We had both left at noon, when we knew there would be no one there, because the adults at that time would be sleeping, and we seized the opportunity to take a bath.

Our parents had gone out to make one of those visits to which we were so used, due to the constant social activity of our mother, sometimes against the strict and regulated life of our father, but this is how she had overcome his constant absences, when he was assigned for months to different operations.

It had started as a form of entertainment, and it had gradually taken up longer and longer, until it had become an important part of her life.

At the beginning it was just a way to amuse herself. She started going once a week to an innocuous painting course, then twice a week, then … until she set up one the rooms of our house to be her studio. From there, becoming a professional was just a matter of time and lots of practice, because she had the essentials, a great skill with the brushes and a good eye for details.

Her teachers, proud of her work, encouraged her to start having exhibitions for the base staff personnel, but little by little that went further.

Some time after, she started a tour of several neighboring military bases, which invited her knowing her talent and her skill with the brushes. Then it came her public life, to call it so, since she was invited from different cities to take part in exhibitions, both collective and individual, to show her work.

In addition to that, the army supported her, since she improved their image among the general population, showing that life in a military base did not have to be necessarily boring and dull. That the women of the military did not have to give up their expectations and their lives, and they could develop them, just like the rest of the population.

Before long, that family changed its identity. From being the family of my father, a renowned captain, decorated in various conflicts and respected by all who had served under him, it became the family of my mother. It was a family known throughout the country. She was the pioneer, and in many cases a role model of progress for women, in and out of the military, so much that several prime-time shows invited her for interviews.

At the beginning that was quite a joy for all of us, because we saw our mother was happy, but after a while it turned out to be somewhat awkward as far as the economics.

My mother began to have her long-awaited financial independence, with her own income. This allowed her to buy a number of objects and vehicles not really fitting for military personnel or for their families.

My father insisted that she should restrain herself, that she could spend what she earned in any other matters, that she should not be notorious in the base for her financial expenses. My mother would not listen to him, tired, she said, of living like the rest of the base, when she knew she could have greater comforts.

In addition to that, she constantly traveled for several days to museums and exhibitions, or to show her work. She was even preparing to sponsor the creation of a foundation for young artists, for which she spent several months touring different institutions, to give scholarships to those accepted by the foundation.

All this meant that we often were at home alone, under the care of the mother of a friend, but it was not the same as having our own family.

No one seemed willing to leave part of their life to spend more time with us, so I had to become a little bit responsible for my sister, and I saw her back and forth from the base to the school.

Although of course, that activity was not too difficult, because transportation from the house to our school was on the base bus, but on that particular afternoon, my friend’s mother had not yet arrived. I do not know why she had not called or anything.

So we came back from school and ate the two of us alone. After that, and since it was a day of scorching heat we decided to go to the pool.

This one was located close to where we lived, so we only had to go through the yard of a couple of houses and there it was.

When we arrived to the pool, I did not know what to do since usually there was a lifeguard and a rescuer nearby, in case something happened, but there was none around.

Maybe there was not still the time and the pool was not yet open, but we wanted to open the season, taking our first swim.

Perhaps there were still a few days before the official opening. Anyway, then it would always be full, especially with those big boys who seemed to love to have the pool all for themselves.

I was still watching all over, trying to figure out which will be the shallower side where we had been last year, when I saw my sister suddenly plunging herself in, doing the bomb, as she had seen me do so many times, but after she went in, she did not come out.

I stared intently at the bottom of the pool how it went back to its static calm, until there was not a single wave caused by the plunging of my sister, but she still did not come out of the bottom.

I put my head into the water and did something my mother had forbidden me to do, open my eyes under the water, to see if I could find her, because she did not pop up. Until finally, someone behind me jumped in, moving again that huge mass of water, separating it when coming in, and then pulling my sister out of in his arms.

Coming out of the water, he handed her for me to take her, while he left. For his clothes, he was a soldier, quite young, and wet from head to toe.

He had had no time to take off any clothing before diving into the water, and even his shoes were dripping.

My sister lay motionless in my arms, with her white face, breathless, all wet. All I did was look at her not knowing what to do or what to say. I waited for her to react and to get up, wishing that was just a joke that she was playing on me and nothing else, but she did not react.