M-am apropiat tremur\u00e2nd de gr\u0103mada de tencuial\u0103 sf\u0103r\u00e2mat\u0103. Un nor de praf mi-a invadat n\u0103rile \u0219i ochii, dar nu m-am oprit. Sim\u021beam c\u0103 ceva \u00eemi trage sufletul spre acel spa\u021biu gol. Inima \u00eemi b\u0103tea nebune\u0219te \u00een piept, iar m\u00e2inile \u00eemi erau reci ca piatra.<\/p>\n
\u00cen\u0103untru, \u00een golul peretelui, era o cutie. Nu una obi\u0219nuit\u0103, ci din lemn masiv, sculptat cu motive vechi, rom\u00e2ne\u0219ti \u2014 motive care \u00eemi aminteau de lada de zestre a bunicii. Era pr\u0103fuit\u0103, dar intact\u0103, ca \u0219i cum fusese ascuns\u0103 acolo cu grij\u0103, cu un scop.<\/p>\n
Am tras-o cu greu afar\u0103. Era mai grea dec\u00e2t p\u0103rea. Sub capac, g\u0103sit cu m\u00e2inile tremur\u00e2nde, z\u0103cea o colec\u021bie de obiecte ciudate: o fotografie veche, \u00eeng\u0103lbenit\u0103, cu o familie pe care n-o recuno\u0219team, un m\u0103nunchi de ierburi uscate, un clopo\u021bel mic din argint, \u0219i\u2026 un jurnal.<\/p>\n
L-am deschis \u00eencet. Scrisul era vechi, u\u0219or \u00eenclinat, ca al bunicilor care \u00eenv\u0103\u021baser\u0103 s\u0103 scrie cu stiloul la lumina l\u0103mpii. Pe prima pagin\u0103 scria: \u201eDac\u0103 cite\u0219ti asta, \u00eenseamn\u0103 c\u0103 ai fost ales.\u201d<\/p>\n
Am \u00eenghe\u021bat. \u00cen cas\u0103 era o lini\u0219te ap\u0103s\u0103toare. Parc\u0103 pere\u021bii a\u0219teptau s\u0103 v\u0103d ce urmeaz\u0103. Am continuat s\u0103 citesc. Jurnalul apar\u021binea unei femei pe nume Ilinca, care locuise \u00een casa aceea acum aproape o sut\u0103 de ani. Povestea despre cum so\u021bul ei \u00eennebunise dup\u0103 ce s\u0103pase un beci nou \u0219i descoperise \u201eceva\u201d \u2014 o statuet\u0103 din piatr\u0103, f\u0103r\u0103 chip, care nu sem\u0103na cu nimic din folclorul cunoscut.<\/p>\n
Ilinca scria c\u0103, de atunci, \u00een fiecare noapte, \u00een cas\u0103 se auzeau \u0219oapte. Copiii lor visau acelea\u0219i lucruri: o siluet\u0103 \u00eenalt\u0103, neagr\u0103, cu ochi goi, care le cerea \u201es\u0103 deschid\u0103 pere\u021bii\u201d.<\/p>\n
So\u021bul Ilinc\u0103i disp\u0103ruse \u00eentr-o noapte ploioas\u0103. A doua zi, \u00een locul unde dormise, fusese g\u0103sit\u0103 doar statuia. Femeia zidise apoi pere\u021bii cu m\u00e2inile ei, \u00eenchiz\u00e2nd totul \u2014 jurnalul, dovezile, amintirile.<\/p>\n
Cu fiecare pagin\u0103 citit\u0103, sim\u021beam c\u0103 mi se taie respira\u021bia. La final, Ilinca nota: \u201eDac\u0103 ai deschis cutia, nu mai po\u021bi \u00eenchide r\u0103ul. Singura speran\u021b\u0103 e s\u0103 nu-i vorbe\u0219ti. S\u0103 nu-l la\u0219i s\u0103 intre.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mi-a c\u0103zut jurnalul din m\u00e2n\u0103.<\/p>\n
\u00cen acea noapte, am visat pentru prima dat\u0103 ochii goi.<\/p>\n
Casa parc\u0103 frem\u0103ta. A doua zi, un vecin \u00een v\u00e2rst\u0103 a venit cu o cutie de cozonaci, ca de obicei de s\u0103rb\u0103tori. L-am \u00eentrebat dac\u0103 \u0219tie cine a locuit \u00eenainte aici. A t\u0103cut o clip\u0103, apoi a spus: \u201eCasa asta\u2026 n-ar fi trebuit s\u0103 fie ridicat\u0103 iar. Pe vremuri, aici se zicea c\u0103 p\u0103m\u00e2ntul \u2018n-are lini\u0219te\u2019. Ai g\u0103sit ceva, nu-i a\u0219a?\u201d<\/p>\n
Am dat din cap. N-am avut curajul s\u0103-i ar\u0103t.<\/p>\n
Din ziua aceea, am \u00eenceput s\u0103 fac ce f\u0103ceau b\u0103tr\u00e2nii. Am pus busuioc uscat la u\u0219\u0103. T\u0103m\u00e2ie, \u00een fiecare diminea\u021b\u0103. Rug\u0103ciuni vechi, de la bunica, spuse cu glas mic. Oamenii uit\u0103 repede, dar eu nu mai pot.<\/p>\n
Pentru c\u0103 \u0219tiu ce-am auzit. Ce-am v\u0103zut.<\/p>\n
\u0218i mai ales, \u0219tiu ce e \u00eenc\u0103 acolo.<\/p>\n
Dac\u0103 noaptea pere\u021bii t\u0103i scot sunete… nu te preface c\u0103 nu auzi.
Poate c\u0103 te strig\u0103. Sau poate… doar a\u0219teapt\u0103 s\u0103-i deschizi.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
M-am apropiat tremur\u00e2nd de gr\u0103mada de tencuial\u0103 sf\u0103r\u00e2mat\u0103. Un nor de praf mi-a invadat n\u0103rile \u0219i ochii, dar nu m-am oprit. Sim\u021beam c\u0103 ceva \u00eemi trage sufletul spre acel spa\u021biu gol. Inima \u00eemi b\u0103tea nebune\u0219te \u00een piept, iar m\u00e2inile \u00eemi erau reci ca piatra. \u00cen\u0103untru, \u00een golul peretelui, era o cutie. Nu una obi\u0219nuit\u0103, ci […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2000,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[18],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1999","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-povesti"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1999","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1999"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1999\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2001,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1999\/revisions\/2001"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2000"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1999"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1999"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1999"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}