CHRIST IN THE STORM

by Edoardo Cavaglià 

Alright. I’ll bring it over. Jason ended the call with a harsh “goodbye”. The Berlin haze started rising, covering my eyes and making tears fall from them. My suitcase weighed more than ever and I was anxious. The steps I made became continually wider. Leather shoes were not appropriate for a job like this, but I had to fit in the crowd. I felt like I finaly had a purpose, but as my excitement was rising, I knew I had to calm down and follow the procedure. The phone rang at 7:00 A.M as planned. The voice from the other end was unfamiliar to me.

“Put de case in de van and be shure you have de right one”. This was all he said to me. I knew the truck was supposed to stop in front of the cathedral but somehow it was 50 metres ahead, next to an abandoned construction. I reached the vehicle with my last breaths but the trunk was open already. Josh slowly reached for the suitcase: my job was done and yet I didn’t feel relieved at all. As Josh grabbed the suitcases, he stared deeply into my eyes, with a look of shame. Then, a sudden thump followed by a very disturbing whistle… 

The sunlight woke me up, and as I tried to sit up, my head started pulsing as it was going to explode in a short time. The window was right next to me so I opened it with great difficulty. As I was trying to understand where I was, in came a very young, pretty woman dressed in white. This female had a look, one of those looks that try to analyse you without having to speak to you. She wrote a couple of things on her notepad, then left. I was in a hospital. I used all my energies to sit up, and as I did, I noticed the same black van that caused me to be there. My heart started pounding but my thoughts were bright. I still had to remember why I was there and how I got injured. My mouth was as dry as sand so I felt relieved in sculling a plastic cup of water. I noticed my clothes on a leather chair in front of my bed. There was an envelope on top of them. I remember running, then falling to the ground. I was bleeding but couldn’t bother worrying about it. My purpose was greater than that. Finally I found the way to stand up. I didn’t know what I had to do, but I didn’t have much time left. As I grabbed my jacket, from the inside of it fell a rectangular canvas, upside down. It looked very old. I dressed up before picking it up, then I did. My eyes widened and I felt high for a second. I was holding a very old canvas, 381 years old exactly. The image was very familiar but I had no idea whatsoever of why I was holding it. It was Rembrandt’s  “Christ in the Storm”. The envelope, which I forgot about, was sitting on the chair. The address written on it must’ve been the one of the hospital. I opened without reading it. That’s when I realised I was in trouble. The simple phrase “get out of there or they will find you” made it clear that I had to go, and soon. As I shoved my feet in my leather shoes, I heard a loud knock on the door…