Part 4
Part 3
Part 2
The nurse was right, Venanzio was indeed an
unusual name. Whenever the professor spoke it at school, it was
always followed by an expression of surprise. His father had
reassured him of the importance of that choice but, as for
everything else concerning him, he had never paid too much attention
to his words.
The nurse had left after having advised him not to move his leg but to leave it suspended to that traction mechanism even if the effect of the anesthesia was ending and he would begin to feel severe pain.
“Please stay still if you don’t want them to come back to apply a new plastering.”
The broken meniscus had arrived both—unexpectedly and inappropriately. The next day he had to take a test to be part of a soccer team. Seventeen years was the right age. Although he did not come from a school in that field, he was noticed by a coach who had offered him this possibility. But just the day before, raising his leg to catch the ball, he had missed the hook by feeling a thickness to his knee. He thought it was a passing pain but, the next day, was diagnosed broken meniscus. So his dream seemed finished.
“You don’t have to give up” said the nurse came to check the plaster. “With a little patience, in a few months, you will be able to run again. The surgeon is well-known for this type of surgery. Other players operated by him managed to return to the field.”
Venanzio smiled for the encouragement but was sure that, after the eighteen years, it would be difficult to be admitted to a team again.
He had spent his childhood playing in the small soccer field next to his home dreaming, like all his friends, to becoming one day a great player and entering the big stadiums full of people ready to applaud him. On alternate days, he took the name of his favorite players imitating their attitudes and, at every ball entered the goal, he ran across the field screaming and raising his arms.
The nurse had left after having advised him not to move his leg but to leave it suspended to that traction mechanism even if the effect of the anesthesia was ending and he would begin to feel severe pain.
“Please stay still if you don’t want them to come back to apply a new plastering.”
The broken meniscus had arrived both—unexpectedly and inappropriately. The next day he had to take a test to be part of a soccer team. Seventeen years was the right age. Although he did not come from a school in that field, he was noticed by a coach who had offered him this possibility. But just the day before, raising his leg to catch the ball, he had missed the hook by feeling a thickness to his knee. He thought it was a passing pain but, the next day, was diagnosed broken meniscus. So his dream seemed finished.
“You don’t have to give up” said the nurse came to check the plaster. “With a little patience, in a few months, you will be able to run again. The surgeon is well-known for this type of surgery. Other players operated by him managed to return to the field.”
Venanzio smiled for the encouragement but was sure that, after the eighteen years, it would be difficult to be admitted to a team again.
He had spent his childhood playing in the small soccer field next to his home dreaming, like all his friends, to becoming one day a great player and entering the big stadiums full of people ready to applaud him. On alternate days, he took the name of his favorite players imitating their attitudes and, at every ball entered the goal, he ran across the field screaming and raising his arms.
Gift to Grow - Incipit
Our Madness
Part 1
Available to be published
Fairy Tales
Poems
Novels
Our Madness
