The Woodcock Game: An Italian Mystery Novel by

Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-02-13T16:00:00+00:00

September 25th

Nino was drinking his coffee in the big kitchen: he loved that house, bought just for being in front of his parent’s house, but soon become his family nest

It was a beautiful northern Italian villa, with a small green area on the front and a garden behind that his wife loved to take care of.

In the summer they were often dining and spending time together with their families, doing nothing but enjoying nature and the sun.

September painted the garden in reds and yellows and Nino marveled how much imagination nature has: in his garden there were all the forest shades one could think of.

Colors that the queen of the woods loves.

Woodcocks tend to go up, so it’s better to have Mark below, not above him, with rare exceptions.

He had seen her change strategy so many times that he knew he could not ever trust his experience, if not in regard to mastery of patience and action, a mix of which led him at times to win the game.

French call the woodcock 'sorcière', witch, because it binds you with a spell and enchants you for life.

He didn’t mind those who asked him why he went in the woods in bad weather, or persisted hunting such a hard prey.

They cannot understand, he concluded every time, like no one understands true love, even if we all experience it; we never recognize it when in someone else’s heart and we fool others, telling them it doesn’t exist, while what doesn’t exist is our surrender to a mystery, a greatness who can maybe fool us, cut our soul, cast a spell on us and shows weapons we’ll never possess. .

He looked at the papers: cause of death: cardiac arrest.

He put them down, annoyed.

Why did someone bring her into the woods if she died naturally?

The human soul has many fears, but all can be traced back to a single desire, that makes us all choose different ways: to possess happiness.

But happiness can’t be owned, the moment you want to control it, it fades away and we fight, we cry to have it back, no matter in which shape

But some of us fight for too long, seeing things not going as they’d like and they have the perception of a life they can’t catch; ineptitude, talents, mismanagement….who knows what.

Some of us hope to find it in material things, some in emotions, relationships, but we all lose happiness searching in places we won’t find it.

We believe in an illusion that scares happiness away, leaving in its place an angry delusion.

So they slip into a pretend life, deceiving those nearby, keeping up an appearance that hides pain and frustration.

In this subtle comedy become drama, some get themselves in situations from which they don’t know how to get out.

The only teacher of the soul is disease, which levels dreams and hopes and forces everyone to look inward, good or bad as it may be.

He had seen different reactions in patients: there were those who ran to his office for nothing, in panic for a bad back, or who could not stand natural menopause, or advancing age.

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