uncomfortable. Being the centre of attention always gave her a thrill of pleasure.
"My name is Daisy. Daisy Magnoli. I come from Castelmuso, a village of 15,000 inhabitants, not far from the Adriatic Sea…"
Daisy continued by reciting some other banality about her high school life, but without the liveliness demanded by the authors.
"Is that all?" Sebastian exclaimed, pretending to be disappointed. "I hope that shyness hides a great talent,
otherwise…" Sebastian spread his arms, as if to say: ʺWhat did you come to do? To disappoint all these people? ʺ
Daisy knew that the program's set list included a few mandatory steps: the jury would start with compliments, so to boost the share they would provoke her into trouble. All she had to do was stand up to the jurors' assaults.
It was all planned.
Now all she had to do was sing I’m Roseand she would become a celebrity.
6
Guido felt a chill running down his shoulder blades. Daisy was about to perform in front of millions of Italians.
"That asshole Sebastian! Did you see how the hell he treated her? Who does he think he is?" Manuel Pianesi was so angry that he spilled the beer on the sofa cushions, making Guido swear.
Guido Gobbi had already regretted hosting his two friends at his home, an apartment on the outskirts of town in the populous San Lorenzo district. Five thousand quiet souls, divided between the buildings with high facades that followed the profile of the hill.
On the one hand Manuel screamed, making him miss the jurors' jokes, on the other, Leo Fratesi replied to the comments, with the vice of emphasizing several times the concept already expressed.
"Please, will you stop messing around?" Guido asked as he pressed the remote control button to turn up the volume.
A week had passed since Daisy and Guido had quarrelled. She thought Guido was a peeping Tom and wanted to report him to the principal. It seemed like the sad ending to a story that had never been told. Then, that phrase appeared on the computer.
Adriano has to stop looking for me. Or he'll come to a bad end.
After an exhausting explanation where Guido had tried to convince her that he had nothing to do with it, they finally made peace, even though the longed-for appointment had been postponed.
Daisy, in fact, had preferred to investigate who had sent the message, with Manuel's help. The dreadlocks high school boyfriend was a good geek, one of those who could trace the source code. Manuel had tried to find out who the author
was, but with every attempt, the computer inexplicably froze.
The seriousness of the attack ruled out the possibility that it was a prank on Daisy.
Guido said that Adriano probably did something he shouldn't have. Perhaps a virtual meeting gone wrong. Or, he stepped on the wrong people's toes, or something, and they were threatening him. Daisy had never seriously considered the possibility that they were really angry with her brother. She used to feel that she was the centre of attention, which led her to think that the message was addressed to her. It is likely that her disabled brother had really attracted someone's hatred, and now she wanted to find out why.
"So, Daisy, what do you want us to hear?" Sebastian Monroe asked, drinking a sip of scotch that made his lips slurp with pleasure.
"Well, I'd like to sing a song. A new song” she replied, grabbing the microphone stand, which she lifted to suit her height.
"Did you hear that?" exclaimed the juror, turning to the audience.
"We're dealing with a singer-songwriter” added Circe, puzzled, who searched the stands for someone who shared her scepticism. There were some whispers of approval.
"I didn't actually write it."
"Could you be a more verbose thread, or shall we move on to monosyllables?"
There was a giggle from the audience.
"It's a song written by Adriano Magnoli. My brother. The song is I’m Rose.
In Castelmuso, Adriano watched the program with his arms folded, his shoulder resting on the door jamb, and there was a lot of excitement around him.
"For God's sake, Adry, they're talking about you here!" Franz shouted out the foam from the beer bottle.
"Really, Adriano. It's great” Uncle Ambrogio remarked, raising his glass to another toast.
The compliments of the people gathered in the living room of the villa were sincere, insistent, and a bit annoying. In Adriano's ears they sounded a bit like ʺNothing bad for a mental patient.ʺ
He couldn't blame them. After all, it was the truth.
"Now a little silence, please" Sebastian said, raising his hands to silence the audience, while the camera's ruthless eye was placed on Circe's finger on the stage.
"Daisy Magnoli. Your time has come!"
Daisy closed her eyes, seeking maximum inspiration.
The sweet sound of a piano rose up. Just a few notes chasing each other. The music, light and evocative, seemed to lead into a garden of fragrant roses. A melody that recalled soft colors, delicate flights of butterflies and clear skies full of harmony.
Adriano's music began as a calm journey into the soul.
Daisy, the feeling of riding a rainbow of emotions, began to sing.
My heart pierced by blinding suns
My hard crystal tears
It's beauty
The joy of love
But a shadow is hidden in the folds of my soul…
The words, whispered like a loud chant, did not provoke any reaction from the audience.
As expected, if the artist showed little, if any, talent during the performance, shouts and whistles were heard, but when the skill was undeniable, applause and shouts were heard. Nothing happened to Daisy. No one said a word. Everything was still, suspended in a vacuum.
Suddenly the sigh of the piano became a thunder rumble. A powerful, dark bass gave off a powerful energy. Melody and rhythm exploded into a gothic rock piece. Drums and guitar fused, in the background, a chorus of deep voices. It was an ancient Gregorian chant translated from Latin, the voices modulated on prophetic tones. A warning that spoke of beauty, love and damnation.
Love is the mirror of the dark.
The dark will be my husband.
The cloak of the black reaper will fall on my face, heavy as a shroud.
Beauty and damnation…
Then the choir silenced. A thick, grey smoke came down on stage.
Daisy's voice rose clear and vibrant.
Sin crept into the mists of my innocence.
The dark angel is joy and innocence.
The dark angel is joy and perversion.
I am the rose.
He is damnation…
The dance steps touched the stage with light and agile touches, a roll rose as the succession of threatening thunder, the choir to create an atmosphere of warning and omen.
At the end of the song the guitars interpreted an acrobatic solo, a perfect counterpoint to celebrate the dying sound of the drums.
Then, suddenly, the music dissolved.
The piece was finished.
Daisy stood motionless, her face turned to the sky, sweat running down her temples, strands of hair clinging to her reddened cheeks, her knee pointed to the ground and her arm outstretched to the sky in a beautiful, epic pose.
Daisy smiled at the jury, holding her anxieties, her heart beating fast in the center of her chest.
It