Ratatouille.... un miscuglio fra un ratto ed un intruglio ? e a me questa canzone
Ha ispirato questa scena di una mia storia e in inglese è scritta con aiuto gpt solo perché mi è venuta di getto poi risistemo io.
The soft melody of a music box floated through the bedroom, filling the air with a fragile, almost dreamlike quality.
Cassie sat cross-legged on the bed, her small hands gripping the hem of her pajama top, her wide green eyes fixed in absolute wonder on the woman in front of her.
Her mother danced — not the clumsy spinning Cassie had seen other moms do at school parties, but real dancing, the kind that made you forget to blink.
Every movement was silk and water, graceful and precise.
Her mother’s bare feet skimmed the polished wooden floor without a sound. Her dark hair, so black it seemed to drink in the light, fanned out behind her like a veil as she twirled, arms cutting delicate patterns through the air.
To Cassie, she wasn't just Mom.
She was a queen, a sorceress, a shimmering dream stitched together with music and moonlight.
The music slowed, the tune winding down with a gentle mechanical sigh.
And with it, her mother’s movements softened, slowed... and ended.
She stood still for a moment, breathing softly, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. The spell broke.
Cassie’s mother knelt before her, brushing a few stray locks from her daughter’s forehead, her touch gentle, her voice warm.
"Time for bed, little star," she murmured.
Cassie pouted, wanting to beg for just one more dance — but then, a sharp knock echoed through the house.
The sound sliced cleanly through the cozy bubble they had created, making the walls seem too thin, the shadows too long.
Her mother’s face changed almost imperceptibly.
The soft smile tightened at the edges.
Her eyes, a deep shade of stormy blue, flickered with something Cassie had never seen before.
Alertness. Fear.
But when she spoke, her voice was the same calm lullaby as always.
"New game," she said brightly, standing up and crossing the room with quick, decisive steps.
Cassie blinked, confused, as her mother yanked up the edge of the carpet, revealing a small hatch Cassie had never noticed before.
"It's called... Hide and Be Silent. You win if you stay hidden and quiet the longest," she whispered, crouching down and lifting the hatch open.
A small, dark space yawned below.
Cassie’s nose wrinkled. It smelled of wood and dust.
"This is a weird game," she said, hesitant.
Her mother smiled wider — too wide, Cassie thought dimly — and kissed her quickly on the forehead.
"The best games always are."
Before Cassie could protest again, she found herself being gently lowered into the hatch.
Her mother brushed her fingers over Cassie's cheek, one last time, and whispered, "No matter what you hear, no matter what happens — stay quiet, stay hidden."
Then the hatch closed, and darkness pressed in.
From the thin cracks, Cassie could see shadows moving.
She heard the front door open — the hinges screeching slightly despite the careful effort — and then, heavy boots crossing the threshold.
"Evening," a man’s voice said, deep and mocking.
For a heartbeat, everything was still.
Then, without warning, Cassie heard a wet, horrible choke — a sound she couldn't even recognize — and something heavy falling to the floor.
Another man shouted, but it was cut short by a sharp, slicing sound.
Her mother was fighting.
Fighting like a storm unleashed.
Cassie squeezed her hands over her mouth to hold back a whimper as the thudding sounds of struggle filled the house.
Furniture crashed. Glass shattered.
But then — heavier footsteps, more of them.
Three more shadows appeared through the thin slats of the hatch.
There were bangs, muffled and mechanical — like firecrackers stuffed into pillows.
Cassie flinched at every sound.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Silence fell.
A heavy, awful silence that made Cassie feel like the whole world had stopped breathing.
She waited. And waited.
Her legs were cramping, her throat ached from holding back cries.
She hated this game.
She wanted her mother.
Finally, unable to bear it a second longer, Cassie pushed the hatch open and crawled out.
The house was a wreck.
Pictures had been knocked off the walls. The coffee table was overturned.
And in the center of it all, sprawled across the floor like a broken doll, was her mother.
Cassie stumbled toward her, her bare feet slapping softly against the floorboards.
"M-Mommy...?"
No answer.
The elegant, unstoppable woman who had danced only minutes before was still now, a terrible stillness Cassie didn’t understand — and didn’t want to.
She shook her once, twice, whispering her name.
Nothing.
Tears blurred Cassie's vision, and a raw, ragged sob escaped her chest.
Blackrose bolted upright in the cinema parking lot, her chest heaving.
The cold night air bit into her sweat-damp skin as she blinked rapidly, trying to ground herself in reality.
It was just a dream.
Just a stupid, stupid dream.
Brought on by that idiotic horror movie Alex had forced her to watch.
She wiped her palms against her jeans, furious at herself — and at him — for dragging old ghosts out of their graves.
"Never again," she muttered darkly to the empty night.
Above her, the sky stretched out — black and endless.