"Berceuse" - Chapter III

The house was silent while Loretta thought about what to do. She liked quietness, the watery mirror of the lake, and many times her spirit felt as if one could live with just beautiful visions and bird songs, but flesh wanted more, and her body forced her to enter the town when she was missing something that the ground around her house couldn’t produce.

Amidst all the looks, either painful or invasive, she walked again. Two days ago another young man had died, some people said that it was just because of a knife’s edge, but in their hearts they all blamed the Lake Witch, the shining charm that without realizing painted spots of red in the lives of many.

Loretta walked slowly, her head covered not only to fool onlookers, but also to save them all from the sight of her cheeks red from weather and her curls of sun-toasted wheat. She hid her mourning in this way, even while dressed in any color but black, because in a very personal way, she suffered for all the flames that went out because of her. Her only wish had been to hear her name in the right tone.