Once upon a time in a distant country there was a family made up of father, mother and son. They were very poor and the father was forced to beg on the street. One day the man saw a rose different from the others, this one was of 7 colors: yellow, orange, red, purple, blue, green and white. He took it home to his wife and son who, seeing it, marveled at the beauty and strangeness of the color of the rose: it could be a magical flower so they began to make wishes hoping that the flower would grant them.
"I would like a huge table full of food, a huge house" said the wife and so it was; then the child said "I wish we were a family of nobles and that I had a room all to myself."
And this too came true, finally it was the turn of the father who asked "I would like to live partly with a family of nobles and have many servants".
All this came true but the little family realized that only one color remained in the magic rose: purple!!!! So they put the flower in a room, the highest in the castle protected by the strongest guards to ensure that the rose was not stolen. The years went by and the relations between the neighbors became more and more intense, they spent every afternoon together. Matteo, an orphaned boy, and his aunt Anastasia lived in the neighbor's house. Matteo had lost his parents when he was born to a sorcerer who had transformed them into frogs, but his aunt had told him that they had died in the war. Matteo spent his days in the orphanage except for Sundays which he spent with his aunt in the fields he owned. Not many years went by when the father of the family, which had become rich, was on the verge of death and asked his son to bring him the rose to ask for eternal life; but the son brought it to him late as the father was already dead. So they decided, mother and son, to leave the last wish to Matteo who wanted to know who his parents were. So he asked:
“Rosa, show me my parents!!!”
And immediately he heard voices:
"Son, help us, we're here!!!"
So he understood that his parents had been turned into frogs. The rose hadn't lost its color and Matteo asked:
"Rosa please make mum and dad return to humans"
And Matteo's parents became human again and hugged their son. Then they went to look for the sorcerer who had turned them into frogs and realizing that he had done it because he felt lonely, they forgave him and welcomed him into their home, living happily ever after.
Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved butterflies very much. She wore brightly colored clothes and, when she spoke, she moved her small arms with such lightness that they looked like vibrant wings in flight. His gait also brought with it that lightness that only butterflies naturally possess. And like butterflies he loved flowers and took great care of them.
With his mother in spring he planted bulbs and seeds and waited patiently. His little brother, still small, watched amused.
He had become her little messy little helper! At the first warmth, a leaf appears, a slender cuff, the first flower, then many others, all beautiful in their shapes and shades of their colors. Soon many beautiful butterflies would also arrive!
And the little girl was delighted and remained enchanted for hours watching that spectacle of lightness, colors and perfumes. Sometimes it happened that a butterfly would rest on her hand and the little girl was almost breathless with emotion. It remained motionless to enjoy the beauty of those colored wings and the tickle of those curious paws.
One day his little brother got a bad flu and had to stay in bed for several days. The little girl was very sorry to see her little brother suffering and sad. Then he thought of a surprise that could brighten his days. It immediately occurred to her to prepare a short story about flowers and butterflies. While his little brother was dozing, he wrote a very sweet story and prepared a merry-go-round made with wood twigs tied together, to which he hung colorful butterflies made with tufts of his mother's carded wool. When the little brother opened his eyes after his afternoon nap, the baby was there, ready, next to him. She smiled at him and started reading his story. The little brother listened raptly, in silence, with sparkling eyes.
Eventually the little girl took the mobile and showed it to her little brother. Quick as a flash he took it with his little hands and began to play with it, moving the sticks to make all those beautiful butterflies flutter.
Soon the little brother was back to health and that mobile became the best
I have never been a princess in danger, or rather, I would have loved to have been, but my character has never allowed me to. I never dreamed of the handsome prince charming, who would come to save me from the villains of history. The real question now is: Who are these bad guys? Well, there are evil witches hiding in the corner, who briefly run and pass in front of me, showing themselves kind and generous, and then give me the poisoned apple; there are evil monsters, very similar to those under the bed, but, in this case, they sleep by my side and hope in my despair, they crave my madness, because that is what they feed on; there are magicians who enchant my passions, who make me the victim of spells impossible to break, like love; finally, there are them, the worst creatures, those we commonly call "people", who tear away from you all that you hold most dear: your heart, feelings, passions, happiness, showing you that they are only lowly illusions and that everything you believe in doesn't really exist. They are the ones who destroy your dreams, the ones you believe so much in and one day you would really like to reach, but in the end, you realize that they are only illusions, which you will never be able to reach. No. I have never been a princess, but I would have liked to have been one for a second, that maybe, locked up inside that tall tower, my prince charming would have arrived. I don't expect him to be rich and happy, but either way, I know I'm important to someone. I would know someone would make a sacrifice for me. Someone would be willing to rescue a hidden princess from herself, at the mercy of the demons in her room and the people around her. Would anyone really want to save a princess who doesn't behave like one? A princess who apparently seems to have everything, but inside is torn, disturbed and devoured by the bad guys. Would you be willing to love someone like me?
I don't like fairy tales of love, or rather, I like them, but I don't want them, because the princesses who are saved are always at the mercy of demonstrable danger, in short, of an enemy who could really kill them physically, but never internally. No one could ever save a princess without realizing the real dangers. This princess, mine, is forced to freeze behind those walls, on that high tower, trying to save herself, because nobody notices, that even if the window is open, the tower is too high for her to be able to escape alone. . So she dies slowly, in her world of withered roses and full of thorns.
Once upon a time there was a little girl. She had a bob of golden hair and deep dark eyes. He always smiled, he appreciated life. She was an intelligent child, she invented stories, she loved to read, she wanted to be a writer, she thought a lot. Often she was alone: she was too shy to communicate with others, she was satisfied with herself, she kept everything inside. But he was happy like that. Because inside she had so many beautiful things, a magical world made of dreams, glitter, love. She loved herself, she cared about her ideals. I remember that he played with pencils, he had all the colors, he made them talk. He had a lot of dolls, but he preferred pencils. She was a sensitive, sweet, nice child. He did not want to give anything to anyone, his things were only his property. But the heart, that heart would have given it to anyone. She was a good girl, always sunny and cheerful. I often wonder what that little girl would have thought of who I am now. Certainly she would not recognize me: she would have called me crazy, she would not have understood my scars, she would have grumbled at me from the smoke, she would have been sick with my suicidal thoughts. He would cry looking at me. He would see my smile, the same as before, but sadder. She would tell me to give a damn about others and eat as much as I want, like she did. She who had been vomiting for whole nights with sweets. That little eater with the big belly. Of course, she would also have been proud of my progress, she would have complimented me because she didn't know how to do somersaults, splits, bridges; because she didn't have the courage to experiment. I've learned a lot over the years, but I miss that little girl's sweet innocence. His way of dealing with problems. Holidays, birthdays, Christmas, when she stayed up all night to hear the footsteps of a fat old man dressed in red. When the golden lights on the trees enchanted her, when her little town seemed bigger than New York. That little girl who cried a lot and for everything, a bit like now. That little girl pretending to be a model or a dancer while trying on mom's big dresses. The one who loved the world and herself. That little girl I would love to see again because I miss her. Because I wish I was still as happy as she is.The child was asleep when the door opened and someone entered. Was it the fairy tale wolf? She was asleep but suddenly she felt something. A nuisance down there. A strange and bad feeling. The little girl did not want to open her eyes. He forced himself to leave them closed. And he died under the weight of the big bad wolf.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 