In the heart of a vast lonely meadow, a tower struck by the spell has been living on this deserted land for centuries. Within it, a bell that formerly served villagers of an old-time. Only now, it is known for its unstoppable ringing, and never does it cease to cry. There has been no rest to her singing for whoever came across the old tower. About this eternal sound, a strange legend that crossed the ages lives through the mystified minds who passed by. The story, recounted by the oldest tongues, tells that a long time ago a very extravagant lady remained alone in a very old tower. Since her young age, she was known by the whole village for this huge mouth drawn on her face, which she had always use with great caution. In fact, the children, usually careless of their harm, would constantly mock and deride the funny look of her prominent lips. When from time to time, she dared to speak and revealed the sound of her voice, a deafening tone, deep and sharp, aroused the most excited minds around, as they would run up to her, throwing a handful of tiny rocks to silence the shrieking of her tongue that was chattering like the clapper of a bell. Being the object of such derision, she would shelter herself in silence. She tightened her jaws, seriously, in fear of losing face, and took off, furiously, as soon as we would walk her home and shout in distance “The Mouth, the Mouth, you’re just a stupid bell!” The hunt would stop at the end of the village where the girl would continue deep in the fields, to rest next to an old uninhabited tower, which frightened every child approaching inadvertently. Sitting at its feet, in the growing grass, she locked her head between her knees, damning this earth to have given her a poisoned body. Afar, her mother was slowly approaching, rustling the blades of grass on her way, making the girl jump out of her silence. This sweet presence was always soothing to he, but she wasn’t in the mood to loosen her thoughts and immediately got back to her scowl.

- If you keep tightening your teeth like that, you won't be able to open them anymore.

- Perfect, then no one will hear me speak.

She sat next to her, without saying a word, while she slightly smiled out of resignation. The child's face tensed even more, stubborn to keep her severe look.

- My child, remember that ignorance flows through their minds and motivates their acts. You alone know about yourself. How could they think clearly? They have no idea about your real voice and they pretend to judge better. You have to put your trust in nature, if she made you the way you are it is for a reason and you only embody this reason. Your mother is certainly old, but she is wise enough to tell you that one is a whole and you have to reunite with yourself. Your voice is different and they are scared of its power. People pretend that darkness runs through your veins and that evil has a grip on you, but they are the true monsters because they are the ones creating them.

- I know I am not a monster, I just hope they would stop throwing rocks at me and most of all I wish to express myself without being petrified by their look.

She looked away towards the field and observed it for a moment in silence. She hesitated to loosen her lips. The air carried a soft whisper to their ears and together they contemplated, in a voluptuous silence, the giant star burning out in the flaming sky.

  Many years have passed, but her voice did not soften. Perhaps, the sound became even more shrill and everybody believed she was the target of a serious divine sentence, treating her like a terrible witch. Her mother was weakening day by day and despite her great devotion to protecting her child, the illness prevailed, leaving the girl alone against a hostile world. Many times, the orphan was threatened to be sent to the stake, in the hope of liberating the people from the demonic burden that weighed on the village. Trapped in such hatred, she decided to withdraw and to settle deep into the lands, where her voice could roam freely. She fled during the night so that no one would see her and headed to the old tower, still firmly erected in the heart of the meadow. In the deep night, she entered the dark entrance of the building and rose to its summit to throw a look at the wide sky dotted with brilliant stars. For the first time, she allowed herself to reveal her most intimate voice and all day long she would express new words from the top of her abode. All the deepest thoughts kept inside since the beginning would now flow continually in an endless speech. Her past frustration fecundated her present words, now free from their old chains. Solitude became the ultimate medium to reach her true self. Only, no audience raised an ear to her daily performance and the drastic silence of her days put her in deep pain. Therefore, the meadow was filled with her eternal waves, unable to tolerate this feeling of absence, as if she was torn off the world. Her soul was pouring into an inexhaustible stream by the deep slit nature had cut through her face. Until the end of her days, the Mouth never left her home, she shut herself up to enjoy her own opening. When she died, some say she was struck by lightning and transformed in a swinging bell which has never ceased to resonate since.

FARAH LOUIZA

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