Pushing the motorcycle down the paved driveway Matteo reached the driveway outside the villa, and as the wrought-iron gate closed behind him he lowered the kickstand, resting the dirt bike on it. Once he had settled his helmet on the saddle, he took a drag from the cigarette he held in his mouth and took a distracted look at the deserted road ahead.

Ripping through the darkness of the night, the yellow light of the street lamps illuminated the roadway and the gates of the other cottages on the street, without even a lone passerby breaking the mosaic of shadows cast on the asphalt by the LED lamps.

It was not too cold, and even though dense clouds of condensation continued to form after each of the boy's breaths, the night sky above him appeared nearly clear, with only a few sporadic clouds to break its homogeneous blackness.

In any case, at that moment the weather was the least of his thoughts. Although he highly doubted that his forecast would be disproved, Matteo leaned out from the curb and checked both ways to see if any cars were on the way, straining his ear as well just in case.

Nothing. Apart from the siren of a distant ambulance, nothing could be heard. It had now been ten minutes since her parents had left the house, and at least according to her mother's words it seemed almost a foregone conclusion that their return would be very late, almost certainly around morning of the following day.

However, before joining his friends at the Fury, he wanted to be 100 percent sure that they would not turn back halfway to their final destination because of some oversight discovered in extremis. It certainly wouldn't be the first time this had happened, and the last time they had caught him lounging around instead of locked in his room studying as promised, his father had literally smacked his face flat.

For this very reason he had been very careful to remind his mother of the gift, which they were to deliver during the dinner at the mayor's house. If what she was aiming at was thus to avoid unpleasant endings, he had done his part.

Straining his ear again and ascertaining that he could not hear the roar of his father's Corvette at all, Matteo allowed himself one last long drag from his cigarette, then tossed the butt into the middle of the road.

Okay, now it might as well have gone.

Strapping on his helmet, he removed his piggyback, mounted the motorcycle, and after assuming the suitable position, impressed a hard push on the ignition pedal.

The motorcycle did not start.

Since it very rarely worked on the first try, he returned to the starting position and tried again.

Nothing.

Third attempt.

Still nothing.

Fourth, fifth, sixth. Matteo did not continue any further. It was now obvious that something was wrong.

''This sucks,'' he hissed impatiently.

He got off the bike, and lowered the kickstand and knelt in front of the side, setting out to find the cause of the failed ignition. Finding the light from the streetlights insufficient even after he had removed his helmet, he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out his Smartphone. He was about to activate the flashlight, but the voice he heard behind him reached him before he could.

''Problems with the bike?

Caught by surprise Matteo immediately sprang to his feet, ending up banging his head against the handlebars. Barely stifling an expletive he touched the sore spot with his free hand, and after making a huge effort to chase back the tears, he furiously got back up. Whoever that imbecile was who had interrupted him, now he was going to sing him a song.

Of course he turned around, now ready to blurt out, but as soon as he had finished the action, it only took a moment for his anger to boil over like a glowing blade dipped in a barrel of ice water. In spite of what he had expected to see, standing before him was a girl of simply frightening beauty.

Long honey-colored hair fell elegantly to the sides of a face with harmonious features, devoid of even the tiniest flaw, while two intense sapphire eyes peered at him with an air of innocent curiosity. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a light leather jacket open at the front, under which was a hazel-colored sweater, so short that it left his navel exposed.

Too distraught to speak, Matteo stood motionless and stared vacantly at the girl, his mouth wide open in perfect comic O.

''Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,'' the girl said desolately, deciding to break the silence first.

Hearing her speak, Matteo's admiration grew even more. For her voice was sweet, warm and terribly seductive, like a soft caress. Aware that he could no longer just stare at her with that idiotic expression stamped on his face, he forced himself to answer her.

''No, don't worry, no scare.''

The tone in which he spoke sounded like that of an elementary school child because of how sharp and childlike it was. Cursing his own bad luck, Matteo cleared his throat by giving a coughing fit.

''I was just trying to figure out why it wouldn't start.''

''If you want, I can help you,'' she proposed, flashing him a splendid smile, which showed off a gleaming white coil of teeth. ''You know, I know a little about these things.''

As far as he was concerned, he would have said yes to her even if the proposal was to do a backflip, so it was not too difficult to reply to her with, ''Um, okay, all right, thank you.''

As promised, the girl leaned down in front of the side of the bike and then set about observing the various engine components. While she checked, Matteo's eye soon ended up falling downward, to the point where the edge of his pants deviated from the bare skin of his back, allowing a glimpse of what was underneath.

"Can you give me light?" the girl asked point-blank.

Jolting in fright, Matteo immediately looked away, although it took him a few moments to figure out exactly what he meant. He had completely forgotten that he still had the Smartphone clutched in his hand.

"Yes.

He turned on his cell phone flashlight and knelt beside her, aiming the white beam of light at the motorcycle engine.

''I think I understand what the problem is,'' announced the girl a few seconds after the inspection began.

''Really?

''Is it normal for that cable to be broken?''

''What cable?

''That one,'' he replied, pointing to her, ''do you see him?''

Matteo brought his face closer to the frame of the bike and checked at the Marcoed spot, and could not help but see the truth of those words.

''Shit, you're right!'' he blurted out in disbelief, ''the starter cable broke.''

"Can you fix it?" she asked in a practical tone.

''No,'' Matteo replied annoyed. ''I'll have to call the mechanic tomorrow.''

The girl seemed displeased.

"What a pity. He crossed his gaze with Matteo, and after hinting an encouraging smile he shrugged his shoulders. ''But if nothing else, now you know what the problem is.''

At that point she returned to her feet, and as her interlocutor instantly imitated her she proceeded to shake a golden lock from her forehead.

''Well, bye then,'' he said affably, ''see you Matteo.''

The girl made to turn away, but he quickly called her back.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, frowning.

''I often see you skulking around here,'' she revealed simply. ''And a friend of mine goes to the same school as you.''

"What is his name?

''Mary''

Matteo's eyebrows shot upward in unison.

''I know a Maria,'' he admitted as he put the Smartphone back in his pocket. ''We dated for a while.''

''He told me,'' confirmed the girl, smiling slyly, ''to be honest, he spoke very highly of you.''

"Really?" asked Matteo incredulously.

''Of course,'' she replied, as if it were a practically self-evident truism. ''She said you are very nice.''

Matteo curved his lips into a smirk.

''Go figure,'' he said, feigning surprise.

The girl's winking gaze prompted him to swallow.

''So, you live nearby?" he asked with apparent carelessness.

''Yes, nearby,'' she admitted vaguely.

''I've never seen you before,'' Matteo confessed to her. ''What is your name?

''Greta''

''It's a nice name''

The girl's cheeks became tinged with red.

''Thank you''

The way she said it, added to her languid expression, shocked Matteo to a level he could not remember ever feeling before. The strange tingling sensation he felt in his stomach soon afterwards gave him goose bumps, while meanwhile a good percentage of the blood in his body began to flow from the top to the bottom, in the direction of his groin.

To avoid blowing it, Matteo hurriedly shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, and pushing down, tried to hide the bulge that threatened to protrude from the crotch of his pants.

''Were you going somewhere?" he asked in a light tone.

''Until five minutes ago I was still waiting for a friend,'' Greta revealed quietly, ''but unfortunately she stood me up.''

''Ah, what a pity,'' commented Matteo, straining to stifle a smile.

''Yeah, too bad,'' Greta confirmed absorbedly, rubbing her shoe on one of the stones in the driveway.

Not wanting to show excessive interest, Matteo decided to prolong the silence for a few more seconds, and then stepped forward.

''Look, would you like to do something together?" he asked with the most indifferent air he was capable of.

"Something together?" repeated Greta as she looked up again, "and what kind?

''I don't know,'' Matteo replied with a shrug, ''maybe watch a movie there.'' He turned a nod in the direction of the gate behind him. ''I have season tickets at home.''

Greta smiled.

''And are your folks okay with you letting strangers into the living room?" he asked with veiled irony.

''My parents are staying out all night,'' he immediately reassured her.

Greta's face lit up.

''Ah, interesting,'' she commented slyly. ''Very interesting.''

Matteo smiled in turn, but no sooner had he curved his lips than Greta's bent in the opposite direction, instantly extinguishing her smile.

''But I don't know if I feel like seeing a movie,'' he admitted, looking away. ''Movies bore me.''

''In the meantime, we can have a drink,'' Matteo hastily proposed, fearing that he might miss that golden opportunity. ''You know, in the tavern we keep a small wine cellar.''

Greta returned to meet his gaze.

"Do you have prosecco?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

''I would say so,'' Matteo confirmed with obvious smugness.

''Perfect,'' Greta said contentedly, showing off her sparkling coif. ''I love the bubbles.''

Sensing another tingling in his stomach, Matteo decided to anticipate its predictable effects by pushing down the bottom flap of his jacket again, applying pressure from inside the pockets.

''All right, then let's go inside,'' he concluded, nodding.

His gloating expression would not have been out of place on the face of someone who had just been told that he had hit six in the superenalotto.

''Let me just put the bike away and I'm at your place.''

He picked up his helmet from the ground and secured it to the throttle grip via the strap, but before he could lift the kickstand, Greta stood in front of the front wheel and then leaned against the handlebars.

''Yes, put the bike away,'' she whispered to him in a teasing voice.

The seductive smile she gave him could not be misunderstood, and Matteo did not dream for a moment of ignoring that signal. Barely holding back his excitement he began to lean his head over the handlebars, while meanwhile Greta did the same. Their noses were now about to touch when she suddenly stopped and whispered, ''First close your eyes.''

Matteo obeyed. Expecting to receive the kiss at any moment he remained motionless where he stood, waiting to feel the warm, moist sensation of her lips as they pressed against those of the girl. The tension grew by the second as did his excitement, however, at the end of that wait that seemed eternal to him, waiting for him he found nothing.

The longed-for kiss was not there.

When he opened his eyes again Matteo saw nothing but the deserted road and the gates of the cottage on the other side of the roadway, but there was no trace left of his charming suitor. Terribly confused he let go of the handlebars, and after taking a step away from the bike, he looked around.

No one. There was not even a shadow of Greta to be seen, as if she had been swallowed up by the pavement of the driveway.

Assuming, although he could not absolutely understand the reason, that he had decided to hide around the corner, he made to proceed in the direction of the sidewalk, but as soon as he had lifted his shoe off the ground something prevented him from doing so.

''Genie, look I'm back here.''

Bewildered by that sour little voice he immediately turned around, finding himself facing a little girl only five years old, standing on the pavement staring at him with folded arms, flaunting a stern frown.

''Don't you think I'm a little too small for such things?" he asked in a scornful tone. ''Eh, rascal?

Unable to process what was happening, Matteo opened and closed his mouth without saying anything. The little girl with her short golden braids continued to peer at him impassively for a few more seconds and then, with the quickness of a blink of an eye, disappeared into thin air, being replaced by a pair of long sepia-colored pants.

Matteo immediately looked up, and what he saw at that point made his skin crawl.

A huge woman peered up at him from the height of her six feet, standing curved over him with a wide grin plastered on her face, the tips of their noses so close that they almost touched.

''And now don't I seem a little too big?" she asked him in an incredibly deep voice.

Hunting down a startled scream, Matteo immediately began to back away, but having forgotten about the motorcycle he inevitably ended up tripping over it. Weighed down all of a sudden by that unbearable weight, the motorcycle stopped touching the ground with its kickstand, and after making a sharp swing, it crashed into the center of the driveway, dragging its owner behind it.

Rolling badly on the pavement the latter then tried to get back on his feet as quickly as possible, although by the time he succeeded the woman had disappeared.

Panting with his heart beating wildly, Matteo stared wide-eyed at the spot where first the little girl and then the giantess seemed to have emerged from the ground, and where nothing but air was now visible.

By some crazy and incomprehensible thought process, he seemed to have imagined everything.

''Are you going somewhere?''

Flinching again in surprise Matteo turned around with a sudden jerk, but unlike what feared facing him he found not the huge woman with whom he had had the misfortune of crossing his gaze just before, but his mother.

She wore the same elegant cherry-colored dress he had seen her leave the house in, and even the accessories were all in place. The pearl necklace, long diamond earrings, and wristlet purse clutched in her left hand betrayed recent attendance at some social event, although her expression looked nothing like someone returning from a party.

At least not at a party that ended well.

As she peered at her son with her hands resting on her hips, her small green eyes were narrowed to slits.

"Mom?" mumbled Matteo incredulously.

"Who else but?" she blurted out acidly.

''W-what are you doing here?'' He leaned slightly over his mother's shoulder, peering worriedly at the deserted street. ''And where is Dad?''

''If you don't mind me asking the questions here,'' retorted Ms. Spinelli disdainfully. ''For starters, why are you out here with the bike? Didn't you promise to stay home and do your homework?''

Matteo knew he had to come up with something quickly. If he couldn't, his father would show him the stars.

''I, here, I...'' he stammered uncertainly.

His mother did not allow him to finish.

''I, that is, I...what?!'' she interrupted him, teasing him harshly. ''Is running around playing thug a new study technique?''

''But...''

"And stop with the excuses!" exclaimed Mrs. Spinelli, waving her arm in the air.

Matteo jerked in fright, but she did not allow herself to be induced to sympathy and pressed a bony index finger to the center of his chest.

''You now repeat back to me exactly what you said before I went out,'' he ordered relentlessly.

''Ch-ch-that I would have stayed home and done my homework,'' mumbled Matteo in response.

"Like this?

In an instant, Mrs. Spinelli's face changed radically. In fact, to tell the truth, her whole body transformed from top to bottom, going from the usual appearance of a pleasing middle-aged woman to that of an 18-year-old with short black hair and a dimple in her chin.

As absurd and inexplicable as it seemed, Matteo was now staring at himself.

''Mom, I'll stay and do my homework, I promise,'' repeated the clone in a childish voice.

Overwhelmed by a wave of panic that was impossible to cope with Matteo exploded into a high-pitched scream, and after spinning on his heels at the maximum speed his legs allowed, he made a hasty escape without looking back. Reaching the sidewalk he walked along it, skirting the gate that Marcoed the boundaries of the Spinelli house, until he found himself in front of the wrought-iron door that allowed access to the garden.

With nerves on edge he pulled the keys out of his coat pocket and tried to slip them into the lock, but his hands shook so violently that the bundle fell to the floor. Cursing in a low voice, he bent down to pick it up, while meanwhile straining his ear, ready to catch any sound of approaching footsteps.

The siren of a burglar alarm in the distance distracted him for a split second, before fear forced him to focus on the lock again. When he finally managed to set foot on the driveway and had slammed the door behind him, he ran to the entrance of the mansion, and in a desperate attempt to be quick he hurriedly crossed the threshold of the house. At that point, after he had put the second latch on the security door, he stopped to catch his breath.

Not finding the courage to turn on the light, he decided to simply put his eye to the peephole to check what was happening outside. The driveway appeared to be clear, and outside the door leading to the sidewalk he could discern no presence.

He was safe. As much as even he did not know what danger he had managed to escape from, at least for the moment the worst seemed averted.

''What exactly are you looking for?" asked a voice beside him.

Shrieking in terror, Matteo immediately took his eye off the peephole and then tried to move away from the door. However, with the exception of the light from the street lamps filtering through the curtains, the living room was almost completely plunged into darkness, and even though he knew it well he still ended up bumping into the edge of one of the coffee tables in the living room.

Cursing in pain he slipped on the parquet floor holding his knee, but as soon as he looked up again the twinge seemed to dissolve instantly. Like a voracious predator, fear swallowed the suffering.

Because of the prevailing darkness in the room, not many details could be discerned of the figure standing in front of the front door, and perhaps this represented the most disturbing aspect of all.

More than the height surely exceeding two meters or the long dark coat that covered his body to his feet, the thing that was more awe-inspiring than any other was the very unknown embodied by his face.

Or rather, from the spot where this should have been, for in fact it was not there. There where a human face should have been was nothing to be seen but an inscrutable black abyss, enclosed within the contours of a hood.

At that sight Matteo felt himself shudder, and when the hooded figure then spoke, his fear could only increase. This was no ordinary human voice at all.

It was deep, bleak, sinister, and although the tone in which he expressed it was surprisingly calm, the underlying menace was palpable as if it possessed a physical body. The gentle caress made by a tiger, harmless in appearance, but ready to turn into the cruelest of slaughters if only he gave her reasons to unleash her claws.

''So sorry for the trespass, but I couldn't resist,'' confessed the hooded figure with veiled irony. ''You know, it's incredibly hilarious to take the piss out of you. Not to mention...''

Matteo heard him noisily sucking in air through invisible nostrils, like a hungry beast intent on sniffing out the scent of prey.

''Oh, my God, you also pissed yourself.''

Matteo looked down at his pants, but even though he could not see the stain well because of the darkness, he still felt the sensation of moist warmth on his skin. Because of the shock, he had not noticed anything until that moment.

The hooded figure shook his head.

''How sad,'' she commented in disgust.

"Who are you?" whispered Matteo in a small voice.

''Think of me as the personification of cosmic karma,'' replied the figure, spreading his arms wide in a theatrical gesture. ''I am more of an idea or an abstract entity rather than a flesh-and-blood person. I act to restore balance when someone...''

She extended her arm and pointed a long gloved index finger at him.

''Like you do wrong,'' he concluded sepulchral. ''I don't intervene often but when I do I always try to get it right. In that respect, I like to call myself a perfectionist.''

Shaking like a leaf Matteo moved his lips, but failed to produce any sound. Fear had paralyzed his vocal cords.

''I bet you will have many questions, but there is no time and I don't want to give you the answers anyway,'' continued the hooded figure impatiently. ''Suffice it to know that from now on you will spend the rest of your life behaving properly.''

He lifted his finger in the air and waved it in denial.

''Never again harassment, intimidation, or any of the other arrogant asshole bullshit that you are going through that wormy head of yours. Do it again and I will come back to visit you.''

As he delivered the final part of the speech, his voice, already terribly cavernous, became even more so.

''At that point, however, I fear that things might take a decidedly less pleasant turn than a calm, face-to-face conversation.''

He said in a hoarse chuckle.

''Four eyes, good one,'' he commented amused, regaining a lighter tone.

Unable to do anything but continue to tremble, Matteo stared dumbfounded at the hooded figure, peering with terror into his eyes at the pit of darkness that was his face. A few oppressive seconds of silence followed, then the mysterious being tilted his head questioningly.

''Was I not clear enough?" he asked simply. ''If you want I can be more explicit.''

He lifted his glove-covered right hand, and in an instant five deadly razor-sharp blades sprouted from the end of his fingers, slicing through the air with a sinister swish. Thereupon he extended his arm, and with a deliberately emphatic gesture, pointed the forefinger provided with that gruesome thirty-centimeter claw at him, turning it in the direction of his groin.

''Tell me, do you care about your balls?" he asked quietly.

At first Matteo merely looked down at the spot in the center of his pants, but as soon as he had finished processing the threat, he instantly tightened his legs, encircling them for safety with both arms.

''I won't do it again!" he shrieked in panic, tears dripping copiously from his glossy eyes. ''Never again! But please don't hurt me!''

''Do you promise?" the hooded figure asked mockingly, leaning forward slightly. ''Boy Scout's word?

''Yes!'' squeaked Matteo, nodding vehemently. ''I swear, I swear! I won't do anything anymore!

''I'm glad to hear you say that,'' commented the mysterious being with obvious satisfaction. ''Because you're not lying, are you?

She took a step forward and bent even more toward him, as her voice abandoned its lighthearted tone, becoming tremendously threatening again.

''You know, I detest liars.''

He waved the fingers of his right hand, causing a chilling metallic squeal.

''No, no, no!" exclaimed Matteo shaking his head hysterically. ''I don't lie, I don't lie!''

For a few seconds of overwhelming uncertainty, the hooded figure merely stared at him without uttering a word, and then, when by this time Matteo thought he was going to go mad from the strain on him, the mysterious visitor returned to stand in all his impressive height.

''All right. You've convinced me,'' he commented affably.

She showed him her armed hand, and an instant later the blades reentered their seat, retracting like the claws of a feline. Matteo swallowed.

''Okay, then I guess we can also say goodbye,'' the hooded figure concluded simply. ''Good night Matteo. Have sweet dreams. And mimicking a deferential pose, he hinted a bow.

At that point he disappeared, and a surreal silence fell inside the living room.

As he tried to interrupt the violent tremor that shook his body, Matteo continued to keep his eyes fixed on the spot where the hooded figure stood only moments before.

His heart was beating wildly and his breathing was labored as if he were fresh from a marathon. Before then he did not think he had ever felt so much fear in his life. A feeling that the darkness in which he was immersed certainly did not help to lessen. He did not know exactly what he had just witnessed, and if for that matter he did not even care to find out, the only thing he wanted at that moment was to make sure it was really over. And there was only one way to find out.

Overcoming not without considerable difficulty the instinct that suggested he stay still and wait for his parents to return, Matteo crawled across the floor until he had reached one of the small tables in the living room. Proceeding tentatively he located the lamp switch, and after turning his gaze in the direction of the front door, he pressed it.

Light soon returned to the living room, but in spite of what he thought, Matteo was not alone, and the pair of huge yellow eyes he met his gaze with soon provided confirmation.

For a fleeting instant he had a vision of a hideous canine snout with its fangs unclenched, and then, just as a frightening force tightened around his arms clasping them in a vice, the beast roared at him.

Matteo screamed and his cries of terror mingled with the creature's feral roar, soon being overpowered by it. However, as intense as the fear he felt was, it also proved to be of very short duration. Like a fire that broke out in a haystack soaked in gasoline. Tall, towering flames, ready to dissolve as soon as the fuel was exhausted.

Ceasing to cry out suddenly, Matteo emitted a long, choked gasp, and after gasping for a few seconds without uttering any sound, he rolled his eyes back, collapsing lifelessly on the floor the very instant the grip that held him in place was loosened.

The wolf-faced creature stood up, merely staring at its unconscious body with an indecipherable expression, the sound of a car speeding down the road beyond the garden broke the silence that reigned in the living room.

At that point he cracked his fur-covered neck, and abandoning that impassive attitude, he allowed a mocking grin to surface on his ink-black lips.

''Chickenshit,'' he commented scornfully.

***

All the while he continued to fidget nervously in his sleep, Matteo's mind was populated by terrible images. Monstrous and revolting shapes crowded his nightmares, during which he was hunted relentlessly like prey pursued by ravenous hounds.

At least on the surface there seemed to be no common thread uniting those disconnected and totally absurd flashes that he found himself forced to experience, except for insane terror by which he was constantly gripped, and of course his perpetual running away. For an indefinite time these remained the only two constants of those atrocious dreams, to which, however, a third soon ended up being added.

The cold. An inclement and merciless cold, which lashed him with increasing violence with each passing second, affecting his psyche to such an extent that it transformed the very setting of his nightmares.

Now he was no longer fleeing through narrow corridors or anonymous woods, but rather across desolate moors scourged by devastating snowstorms.

Having reached the edge of a precipice, and at the chasm set in front of it, Matteo turned sharply. Wind gusts laden with snow scratched his skin almost like claws. The same claws that would very soon dig into his flesh.

The wild barks of the dogs that were now closing in on him rumbled ominously through the frozen air. He could not escape them; oblivion was inevitable. The only choice left to him was to decide which way he preferred to go to meet them. At the end of a slow and agonizing agony, or in lightning-fast and painless flash.

Matteo looked back toward the ravine.

''What are you doing imbecile?!" ranted a voice in the midst of the storm. ''Wake up!!!''

A tremendous twinge of pain made the muscles of his face contract in a grimace, almost at the same moment as the beasts in pursuit swooped down on him, attacking him from behind. Screaming in terror Matteo fell off the cliff, and abandoned the dream.

The first thing she saw as soon as she opened her eyes again was the blurry image of a bald man with sunglasses and a gold chain hanging around his neck, although the only detail she could digest was limited to the sour expression on his face.

He did not seem to be simply angry, he was furious, and while Matteo had no idea why, he knew instantly that he was the root cause.

"What?" he mumbled, still half asleep.

''What the fuck!" retorted the man in anger. ''I don't want crazies around my club! Get the fuck out now or I'll call the police!''

''But...''

''Didn't you hear what I said!" the stranger interrupted him, shaking him by the shoulders violently. ''Go back home or wherever the fuck you want just keep away from here! A hundred meters minimum''

Matteo tried to stammer something, but before he was even given a chance to utter the first syllable, the man shoved him abruptly to the side, and to make sure he grasped the message all the way through he even dealt him a stomp in the buttocks.

''I said go!!!''

Thrown forward by the kick Matteo stumbled clumsily on the concrete trying not to lose his balance, until he found himself outside the alley. In front of him numerous cars and motorcycles occupied almost all the available spaces present within a vast, crowded parking lot, where the continuous bustle of vehicles and people seemed to proceed unabated despite the late hour.

Confused and bewildered, the boy looked around in an attempt to figure out where he was, but the sudden gust of wind that made his skin crawl shocked him to the point that he was unable to think clearly. It was then that he realized why he was freezing to death.

He was completely naked.

Braving the inclement temperatures, a small group of girls in miniskirts and stiletto heels passed him as he passed the mouth of the alley, and when by chance one of them happened to lay eyes on him, she immediately burst into thunderous laughter. Acting almost in unison, her companions immediately turned their heads in the same direction, and as was amply predictable, they too could not contain their laughter.

"What, are you cold?" asked a girl in the group mockingly.

Noticing what was happening, a very fat 20-year-old man passing by hurriedly elbowed one of the friends at his side.

''Hey, guys, look at that imbecile!" he exclaimed, pointing his finger at Matteo.

"What have you been smoking, man?" another boy echoed him shortly afterward.

''Look what a carnival is over!''

Swamped by an avalanche of mocking laughter, and mocked relentlessly by the small crowd that was gradually growing, initially Matteo could do nothing but stand still and look around bewildered.

With his hands pressed to his groin, his eyes filled with tears, and his chest burdened with the most terrible shame he had ever felt in his life, he gave the impression of a child lost to his mother in the middle of a huge superMarcoet on sale day.

''Go back home, you jerk!''

An empty beer bottle from somewhere in the throng cleaved the air and landed at Matteo's feet, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. Caught by surprise the boy took a leap to the side, but not being used to walking barefoot on asphalt he rested his ankle badly and ended up stumbling to the ground.

As another tsunami of laughter washed over him, Matteo whitened in the face so quickly that he gave the impression that the blood had been drained from his body through some sort of evil spell.

"Where am I?!" he cried in terror.

"In the wrong place!" replied a voice in the crowd.

The onlookers burst out laughing.

Having now come to the realization that even death would be preferable to what he was going through at that moment, Matteo got back on his feet as fast as he could, and trying to ignore people's taunts and gestures of derision, he made a hasty escape across the parking lot.

Meanwhile, lying on the roof of the disco, Alessandro had stopped observing the scene, being too busy snickering while holding his belly.