Sourdough - Lievito Madre [ENG-ITA]
Original by @f3nix
Sometimes, the true horror crawls beneath the veil of our daily lives. Sorry Auntie.
Sourdough
Since the death of his parents, aunt's house had become his refuge, an outpost before the abyss of pain that had suddenly opened trying to devour him. Theodore used to live by himself even before the incident, but had slowly resumed visiting the home of she who, during his childhood, had been for him as a second mother. The visits of Aunt Agnes's house had allowed him, during those long days of pain, to maintain a subtle contact with reality. The three young cousins, always ready to fight with each other, Boufry the beagle, perpetually agitated and jumpy, the gruff uncle: that place resembled a fat boiling and mumbling pot. At the same time, with its placid and almost banal daily life, that home was a balm for his soul.
As the months wore on, her aunt's small, thoughtful gestures helped him remember that he could smile for some freshly baked scented bread.
Aunt was very skilled in her recent passion: the use of sourdough to bake buns, croissants and bread, lots of bread of all varieties.
Every time Theo went to visit the house, almost at the same time as the festive rush of the little Boufry, he was greeted by an inviting fragrance of rosemary buns or other bakery products, sweet or savory, depending on the hour. Auntie was improving fast and would already easily convert an hermit to the pleasures of good food, thanks to her flourishing culinary skills. Needless to say that the delicious food, baked thanks to the prodigious and decanted sourdough, was never enough to feed the insatiable mouths of the turbulent cousins.
In recent weeks, the house had slowly emptied. Auntie said it was due to several reasons: it was understandable that the boys, now in their twenties, kicked for their independence; the less they stayed with their parents the better they felt. Even his uncle was rarely seen around,but this did not surprise anyone considering his temperament. It was all good for Theo, meaning more attention from his aunt and the almost-total culinary monopoly, from the delicious hot and creamy croissants for breakfast, to the tasty dry tomatoes and Mediterranean olives buns for lunch or dinner.
Theodore used to talk about everything with his aunt, even though now he too often found himself in conversations about the many qualities of yeast. He listened patiently to that broken record, nodding, smiling. Poor woman, after all, she deserved some more attention, she who did everything for the others while the rest of the family seemed more and more to live in a hotel where you can return, from time to time, for a change of clothes and a good meal.
On an uncertain September day, the house was even quieter than in the past weeks. As he passed through the gate, Theodore prepared himself as usual to dodge the muddy paws of the dog but he noticed Boufry's unusual absence. However, there was that unmistakable scent, which instinctively painted a smile on his face.
"It's time for an ambush to auntie!", he thought as he walked the pavement around the house, jokingly preparing to enter the house directly from the back, through the kitchen's door.
However, his playful expression soon died on his face when he was gradually shown through the kitchen door's glass the scene of Aunt Agnes, standing in front of the open refrigerator. Her arms were taut and long on the sides, as if she was lifting the weight of her body, propping herself up on two invisible bars. The neck and the head were unnaturally leaning forward towards the appliance.
She had not seen him coming, and how could she in that state? Lost in that hypnotic trance, her eyes were both bulging and absent. Her aunt's lips seemed to utter a viscous litany, while her face was ominously illuminated by the cold light of the fridge. Theodore silently approached closer, now able to add disturbing details to the scene: the aunt, lost in her alien transcendence, mechanically whispered a sentence.
"The wise use of sourdough creates the conditions in the art of baking for an optimal family fermentation".
From the new perspective, Theodore could now see the fridge: it was entirely occupied by vases overflowing with sourdough. He managed to overcome the paralysis, forced himself to move his legs, opening the old rusty handle of the French door. Every gesture was slowed by a feeling of surreal and blind terror. By now he was equally close from both his aunt and the wide-open refrigerator. She had not even gave him a glance. Her transfigured gaze struck Theodore's senses like a whip. Aunt Agnes, her features disfigured, was worshipping the contents of the vases, obsessively repeating the macabre litany.
It was then that the horror burst open in front of Theodore: through the glass of the preserving jars, eyeballs looked astonished at him, surrounded by yeast. Eyes and fingers were infesting the compound that seemed to draw nourishment as much as progressively flaking and digesting them. It was an eye, that gray color, so unique and familiar, that completely crushed his mind. Theodore listened to his scream becoming a broken sob as he retreated, and fell tripping over the entrance step, ruining backwards with his whole weight.
The blow to the back of his head was the flash of an explosion, it did not give him pain but only a quick sink in the darkness of the unconscious.
While Theodore struggled in vain to remain alert, uselessly propping himself with his hands, he felt a cold and damp hand on his lips, a sour taste filled his mouth, it was the sourdough.
The last thing he saw was the grinning mask of his aunt who reassured him in a monotonous voice: "Shhh ... you'll be ready before midnight with the others, my baby".
![BananaFishSeparator.gif](https://steemitimages.com/0x0/https://steemitimages.com/DQmVCY1ga5NdmgZPq2dBVWen3xGaGxcFhGVmU8wzPBpzocu/BananaFishSeparator.gif)
A volte, il vero orrore striscia sotto il velo della quotidianità. Scusa zia.
Lievito Madre
Dalla morte dei suoi genitori, la casa della zia era diventata il suo rifugio, un avamposto prima del precipizio di dolore che gli si era spalancato cercando di divorarlo. Theodore viveva solo anche prima dell'incidente, ma aveva lentamente ripreso a fare visita a quella che durante la sua infanzia era stata per lui come una seconda madre. La frequentazione della casa di zia Agnes gli aveva permesso, durante i lunghi giorni di dolore, di mantenere un sottile ma costante contatto con la realtà. I tre chiassosi giovani cugini, il cagnolino Boufry, sempre pronto a sporcargli i pantaloni con le zampe sporche di fango, lo zio burbero: quel posto assomigliava ad una panciuta pentola borbottante e, allo stesso tempo, con la sua placida e quasi banale quotidianità era un balsamo per la sua anima.
Col passare dei mesi, i piccoli gesti premurosi della zia lo aiutarono a ricordarsi che poteva sorridere per un panino fragrante appena sfornato.
La zia era abile nella sua nuova passione: l'uso del lievito madre per sfornare focacce, croissant e pane, tantissimo pane di tutte le varietà.
Ogni volta che Theo si recava a visitare la casa, quasi contemporaneamente all'assalto festoso della piccola Boufry, veniva accolto da una fragranza invitante fra salato e dolce, a seconda dell'ora della giornata. Zia Agnes migliorava sempre di più e avrebbe facilmente convertito un asceta ai piaceri della buona tavola, grazie alla sua abilità culinaria. Inutile aggiungere che il cibo delizioso, sfornato grazie al prodigioso e decantato lievito madre, non era mai abbastanza per sfamare le bocche insaziabili dei terribili cugini.
Nelle ultime settimane, la casa si era lentamente svuotata per diverse ragioni. D'altra parte i ragazzi, ormai ventenni, scalciavano per la loro indipendenza: meno stavano coi genitori, meglio stavano. Anche lo zio si vedeva sempre più di rado, ma questo non sorprendeva nessuno visto il suo temperamento. Per Theo significava più attenzione da parte della zia e il quasi monopolio culinario, dai buonissimi croissant caldi e farciti di crema a colazione, alle gustose focaccie al rosmarino a pranzo o a cena.
Con la zia, Theo parlava di tutto, anche se ora Lei decantava un po' troppo spesso le doti del lievito madre. Lui ascoltava paziente il disco rotto, annuendo sorridente. In fin dei conti Zia Agnes meritava maggiore attenzione, lei che faceva di tutto per gli altri mentre il resto della famiglia sembrava sempre di più vivere in un albergo a cui si poteva ritornare di quando in quando per un cambio d'abiti e un buon pasto.
Quel giorno, nell'incerta luce del crepuscolo settembrino, la casa gli parve ancora più silenziosa che nelle settimane passate. Mentre varcava il cancello, Theodore si preparò come al solito a schivare l'assalto del piccolo cane, accorgendosi invece dell'insolita assenza di Boufry. C'era comunque quell'inconfondibile profumo, che gli stampò istintivamente un sorriso sul volto.
"Questa volta faccio un agguato alla zia!", pensò mentre percorreva il marciapiede attorno alla villetta. Mentre si accingeva ad entrare in casa direttamente dal retro, attraverso la porta-finestra della cucina, pregustava già la reazione.
L'espressione giocosa gli morì ben presto in viso quando attraverso la porta si rivelò la scena di Zia Agnes immobile davanti al frigorifero aperto. Le sue braccia lungo ai fianchi erano tese, come se stesse sollevando il peso del suo corpo puntellandosi su due invisibili sbarre. Il collo e la testa innaturalmente protesi in avanti verso l'elettrodomestico.
Non lo aveva visto arrivare, e come avrebbe potuto? In quello stato ipnotico, con gli occhi al contempo strabuzzati e assenti. Dalle labbra le usciva, farneticante e vischiosa, una litania mentre il viso era sinistramente illuminato dalla fredda luce del frigo. Theodore si avvicinò in silenzio, potendo ora aggiungere dettagli surreali alla scena: la zia, persa in una aliena trascendenza, bisbigliava meccanicamente una frase.
"Il sapiente uso del lievito madre crea le condizioni nell'ambito della panificazione per un ottimale fermentazione familiare".
Dalla nuova angolazione, Theodore potè vedere il frigo: era interamente occupato da vasi traboccanti di lievito madre. Riuscì a vincere la paralisi, si costrinse a muovere le gambe, aprendo la vecchia maniglia arrugginita della porta-finestra. Ogni suo gesto era rallentato da una sensazione di surreale cieco e incomprensibile terrore. Ormai era a un metro sia dalla zia che dal frigorifero spalancato. Lei non lo aveva nemmeno notato. Quel suo sguardo trasfigurato colpì i sensi di Theodore come una frusta. Zia Agnes, i lineamenti sfigurati e tesi, stava adorando il contenuto dei vasi, ripetendo ossessivamente la macabra cantilena.
Fu allora che l'orrore si spalancò di fronte a Theodore: attraverso il vetro dei vasi da conserva, bulbi oculari lo osservavano attoniti, immersi ed imbevuti di lievito. Occhi e dita fluttuavano nel composto, che ne traeva nutrimento e li stava progressivamente sfaldando e digerendo. Fu un occhio, quell'occhio dal colore grigio, così unico e familiare, a schiantare del tutto la sua mente. Theodore ascoltò il suo urlo divenire singhiozzo scomposto mentre arretrava, e cadeva inciampando nello scalino di entrata, rovinando con tutto il peso del suo corpo all'indietro.
Il colpo alla nuca fu il lampo di un'esplosione, non gli trasmise dolore ma solo un rapido affondare nel buio dell'incoscenza.
Mentre Theodore lottava per rimanere vigile, puntellandosi invano con i gomiti, sentì una mano fredda ed umida sulle sue labbra, un sapore acidulo gli riempì la bocca, era lievito madre.
L'ultima cosa che vide era la maschera ghignante di sua zia che lo rassicurava con voce monocorde:"Shhh..sarai pronto anche tu prima di mezzanotte, bambino mio".
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Won't look at bread the same again!! :o)
Sometimes real horror is behind the corner 😜
OMG!!! I wish you could have seen my face when I knew what Theodore was looking at. And I was feeling sorry for poor Aunt Agnes... you got me good! Now I am running as fast as I can, forward not backward, to get Theodore some help with this Tip!
Lol! Actually I hope that my true aunt will never read this or she would faint 😅 Thanks for tipping Theo, maybe he will revive in time before being digested by the sourdough!
I'm not baking any bread for a while, thanks F3nix! 😉 The eyeballs and fingers were perfectly gross details (love them)! I swear that I could hear that horrible squishing and squelching noise of the sourdough yeast! Poor Theo! He picked the wrong day to visit his Aunt! tip!
Grazie dear!!! Did It give you a thrill or should I have left it more subtle? I just baked some rosemary and pachino tomatoes buns for you ad a token of gratitude.. you won't mind if you find something more solid under your teeth, will you?
I think you hit it just right. Subtle is great and appreciated but, sometimes, we just want to have ourselves some true blue horror! Oh, grazie for the buns! How thoughtful of you! (They'll be wonderful to serve to guests! 😋 Don't worry, I won't reveal the baker's secret!)
Yes, that's exactely what I thought too. Thank you for the feedback dear friend ☺️.. and anytime you want to come to the basement and admire my butterflies you know that some croissants and buns are waiting for you too!
Grazie for the generous invitation! I'm afraid that I'm all tied up at the moment (a terrible misunderstanding involving a taser, two men, a missing van of prized bull semen (who knew that was a thing?), and way too many pixie sticks). It may take a while to straighten this out... In the meantime...since I've been so lax in adding to your superb collection:
Don't you just want to pet it?
What a bundle of joy that butterfly, I feel like rubbing it on my face and even a little under my armpits before laying it delicately in the glass case with the others! I told you so many times to stop stealing bull semen vans with the old pixie stick trick!!
I wasn't stealing it! I simply moved the van from the side of the street to an undisclosed warehouse, preventing them from receiving a parking ticket, may I add! And since I knew that bull semen needs to be used in a timely fashion, I decided the best choice would be to sell it and donate a portion of the proceeds to a local alligator rehabilitation center. I only kept half of the money (gasoline is so expensive these days you know...) Since it was empty, and I didn't see a need to keep another unmarked van, I used it to pay for a delicious glass of iced-tea and a slice of poppy seed bread from the sweet ladies that were selling treats down at the VFW. (Giving makes me hungry!) And really, how was I to know that Maddox and Rufus had a crippling pixie stick problem? I'm only one person, and it's so hard to keep track of the different addictions of henchmen with all of my charitable contributions!
Finalmente posso leggere il finale che avevi pensato tu! Molto stephenkinghiano.
Controlla, però, il testo in italiano, perché ci sono alcuni errori di battitura ;)
Grazie.. si é vero, sono influenzato e ho fatto qualche errore, anche nella struttura sintattica da snellire ma era tardi ed ero cadavere 😅 ..é un piacere leggerti di nuovo.
Ahi! Ahi! Mi dispiace che l'influenza adesso tocchi a te. Riposati più che puoi, non fare come me, che quando stavo un po' meglio sono andato in studio e il giorno dopo non mi alzavo dal letto!
Sto lavorando come una faina.. la voce da cadavere é quel tocco in più che ci vuole, vista la mia professione é un bonus 😂
I knew it all along, this had horror story written all over it from the very beginning. Call me when they're done, butter and strawberry jam for mine, please! 👍 😎
Deal Deacon! Butter and strawberry family memb..ehm.. jam!
😄
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