Mists from the Past E-Book

Mario Giuliani

• Herausgeber: Edizioni Aurora Boreale
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Since 1922, strange aircrafts without insignia and with incredible flight capabilities have been sighted; these aircrafts worry the Italian fascist regime, so Mussolini decides to set up a special cabinet to study their nature and, a few months later, one of these crashes in Lombardy.
The story develops by alternating moments from the past and those that took place mainly in the 70s, during which a student witnesses not only the dramatic events of the so-called “years of lead”, but also the drug drama that involved many young people; the story finally ends in our day.
Despite being a fictional story, the incredible documents attesting to the actual existence of the RS/33 Cabinet and the crash of a UFO in Italy have been certified as authentic.
Unthinkable and suggestive scenarios could develop from the various mists of the past.

Leseprobe

SYmbolS & MYtHS

MARIO GIULIANI

MISTS FROM THE PAST

THE FORGOTTEN DARKNESS

Edizioni Aurora Boreale

Title: Mists from the Past. The forgotten Darkness

Author: Mario Giuliani

With a foreword and notes by Stella Picarò

English translation by Stella Picarò

Series: Symbols & Myths

ISBN e-book edition: 979-12-5504-634-9

Edizioni Aurora Boreale

© 2024 Edizioni Aurora Boreale

Via del Fiordaliso 14 - 59100 Prato - Italia

[email protected]

www.auroraboreale-edizioni.com

This publication is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved, being extended to all and part of the material, specifically concerning the rights of reprinting, reuse of illustrations, citation, radio and television broadcasting, reproduction on microfilm or other media, storage in databases. Duplication of this publication, in whole or in part, is therefore only permitted in accordance with Italian copyright law in its current version, and permission for its use must always be obtained from the Publisher. Any copyright infringement is subject to judicial persecution under current Italian copyright law.

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FORWORD

Truth lives on

Are there paranormal phenomena? Do immaterial entities exist? Is there an invisible reality that in some circumstances reveals itself, but which nevertheless escapes our understanding? The actual occidental “science” denies it, but esoterism and quantum physics’ experiments confirm that our universe is filled with forms of life of all kinds. If we knew a little better the ancient (and sadly almost lost) occult and magic doctrines, perhaps we could have a better understanding of what we, for lack of knowledge, define as simply irrational. This is what seems to be going on right now, as the Governments of many countries, including USA, UK and Italy are “revealing” the truth on UFOs, of course by renaming them U.A.P. (Unidentified Aerial Phenomenon).

Mario Giuliani’s novel is very actual from this point of view, and its political aspects are even more topical. In fact, the only way to understand the present is to know the past, and Italy’s past is in many ways still mixed with the fascism and with what came after, with the Lead Years and the repeated meddling by foreign countries in our internal affairs.

Mists from the past is the story of a young boy, struggling to understand what’s going on with Italy and with his own life, changing from day to day. But this is also a book about the unbridgeable gaps in our culture: most of our people don’t know the historical truth about our country because our true (and foreign) leader have meticulously interfered in our institutions, so as to make sure that history books wouldn’t tell the truth.

Those page were ripped off, but, as the devil Woland reveals in The Master and Margarita, by Mikhail Bulgakov, “manuscripts don't burn”, and sometimes they come out a dusty library and change the past – and therefore the future.

Enjoy reading as I enjoyed translating!

Stella Sophia Picarò

INTRODUCTION

This is a fictional tale, as are the actions of real characters, however, the documents shown have been certified as authentic. The other historical information comes from reliable sources and, although chronologically modified for the purposes of the narrative, the news events mentioned are real.

Unthinkable and suggestive scenarios could develop from the various mists of the past.

To stimulate a greater involvement in the story, readers can see images and other media with their smartphones thanks to the QR Codes.

Mario Giuliani

CHAPTER I

Lombardy, between Magenta and Ponte Nuovo, the 13th of June 1933

The sun was rising and the cold fog still veiled the colors that with difficulty were beginning to light up on the meadows and trees of the countryside. The smell of the grass was made intense by the rain that had fallen during the night. Colonel Andrea Nizza, sitting on the backseat of a black car, was lighting one cigarette after another, trying to imagine the scenario he would find on the place that had been indicated by a phone call received during the night to the provincial section of the Volunteer Work for Anti-Fascist Repression1. The powerful secret service of the fascist regime exercised extensive control over everything related to the security of the state, its precious ally was the Stefani Agency, that decided which news could be published in the press.

Finally, the driver stopped the car and the Colonel got out quickly.

«Sir! » a soldier shout, standing at attention, bringing the military salute.

«At rest captain» said the Colonel, greeting with the hand «where is it?».

«In a bush a few hundred yards from here».

«Let's go. You» addressing the soldiers left behind «wait here».

As they walked across the uncultivated plain, Nizza asked, «Who has seen it besides you?».

«Only the three remaining soldiers, some peasants warned us that a plane had crashed and we immediately ran to check but... it's not really a plane, that's why I decided to immediately notify the V-WAR».

«Very well» walking towards the bush.

The bushes grew thicker and taller until, suddenly, they turned into a scorched trail that ended where the fog let a glimpse of a metal wreckage.

The two soldiers approached until they stopped a few meters from the object. They stood still to observe an object never seen before.

«So... what is Colonel? We don't have planes like that and…».

«I know, Captain» anticipating the observation «and we are the first air technological power in the world».

He approached the craft and touched its surface. It looked like metal, but it felt strange, like he'd touched it for the first time. It was round and shapes like a bell, about twenty meters long and six high, with a perfectly smooth surface, neither bolts nor welds were noticeable.

«Well... what nation could have built such a vehicle?».

Nizza didn't answer and went to the front where the impact with the ground had caused an opening. He went cautiously inside, trying to touch as less as possible.

The captain followed him a few steps away until his superior stopped, as petrified. He approached and saw the two lifeless bodies: they were wearing white overalls tending towards silver, very tall, with long blond hair, a broad forehead and extremely fair complexion. One of them had his eyelids still open, so that the very clear blue of the iris was recognizable.

«FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! They are... they are...».

«German pilots I guess, Captain» the Colonel interrupted him and momentarily turned abruptly towards him «pilots of a highly selected corps for piloting extremely advanced aircraft».

«So they would be the Aryans we hear so much about?».

«We can't say for sure, Captain, but they were certainly entrusted with the mission of experimenting with this never-before-seen vehicle». Then, assuming a commanding tone: «in any case, all this must remain absolutely secret. You and your men only circumscribe the area and then call a patrol to prevent anyone from approaching. No one, I mean no one, is to come near you, and you are vested with the highest authority to enforce these orders». Then staring into his eyes, «Do you understand me correctly?».

«Yes sir!».

«Tomorrow I'll be back with a team of mine to pick up the wreckage and the pilots. Write me your name and rank and that of your men. No one must say anything about what has been seen and you will receive a press release within the day with an explanation to be provided to anyone who asks for anything».

As they walked away, the colonel began to think about the various procedures to be implemented. Italians and Germans had been spying on each other for some time and tried to study each other's excellence. However, this aircraft was extremely different from all those even imagined and corresponded to the descriptions of aircraft observed for some time in the Italian skies. It was necessary to act immediately.

They reached the car and saluted in silence.

«To the base» he ordered the driver, «and hurry».

Then he took a sheet of paper and began writing the note which he would then type on letterhead.

For De Santi, a very confidential personal note:

1 notify the Prefect.

2 order immediate recovery of the aircraft.

He stood uncertain for a moment, thinking back to the emotional reactions of the captain. A little purse with the lips, then

3 order the immediate arrest of all witnesses. Appoint special section RS/33 of the V-WAR present in each provincial capital (or its sub-section).

4 address each report (with the qualification of TOP SECRET and PRECEDENCE ON ALL PRIORITIES) to the Central Meteorological Office, at the University La Sapienza in Rome.

5 Prevent the diffusion of any news, especially in the press.

De Santi, he thought, will make sure to notify the Dux immediately and then give me instructions on what to do next. He lit a cigarette and continued writing as the car moved into the fog of the countryside.

6 For the purpose of the previous point, it is necessary to publish, from time to time, very short articles in which the phenomenon is brought back to its authentic and unique celestial nature: meteor, shooting star, as per the form sent to all the Prefectures.

Late in the evening, Colonel Nizza was sitting alone in his office. Three telegrams arrived in the afternoon were still on his desk, and he kept staring at them. The first suggested a convenient version to be given to the press and which would be supported by the Breda Observatory in Milan: the object would be a meteor. The second one reported that the Dux himself had ordered to prevent any leak of the news and to immediately recast the leads of the newspapers bearing the news. Moreover, whoever spoke would be referred to the State Security Court. Finally, the third telegram indicated the official version to be published.

Then he lit a cigarette, took out a sheet of letterhead and inserted it into the typewriter. The loud, slow noise of the keys reverberated through the room.

Dear De Santi,

as requested and verbally agreed, I’m sending you the note for your rule.

Don't make copies. Don't even mention it to your deputy. For any matter having to do with the RS/33 Cabinet, come to me first. I personally typed these lines so as not to expose them to the eye (two-layered bistrato but feminine…) of my secretaries. So, adjust accordingly…

CHAPTER II

Late 1970s, in any big city

The black-and-white image of Robert de Niro's face pointing a gun at his red-wrapped head was the poster for the film The Deer Hunter displayed in a cinema window. Across the street, a throng of young people waited briskly in front of the door of a large gray building, waiting to enter.

With a certain emotion, Paolo began his first day of high school in a technical institute in his city. Middle school had passed quite peacefully but the transition to high school was decidedly more demanding. In that great institution there were little boys like him, not yet fully grown up, but also robust young men with beards; the girls were almost all developed with long hair, short hair, miniskirts, jeans and colorful dresses. He wasn't alone, his middle school classmate, Dario, had chosen the same school and luckily they found themselves in the same class. When he found the courtroom he saw his friend who, having arrived earlier, was calling him with grand gestures because he had saved his seat next to him in one of the best pews: in the penultimate row, while the latecomers or the less overbearing ones would have adapted at the desks in front of the teacher's desk.

When the teacher entered the classroom, the numerous voices fell silent and the students stood up with a loud scuff of chairs on the floor.

«Sit down, guys» he said, placing a leather bag on the desk. He lit a cigarette, introduced himself, opened the register and made the roll call, then began his history lesson which started with oriental civilizations. As he listened a little bored to the characteristics of the Phoenician people, Paolo wondered why, both in elementary school and then in middle school, history practically restarted from the beginning, so that the most recent events had to be treated quickly if not jumped to even more due to lack of time. However, he had learned the information regarding the Second World War from comics and films, especially American, which mainly described battles, aerial clashes, heroic acts and military life and secondly the political events. But in the end, it’s what the public, including Paolo, wanted to see, certainly not a history lesson but a show to savour.

In the following days, Paolo realized that not everything was serene or pleasant. There was no shortage of harassment from the older boys, including those in his own class, and he often felt lost among the thousand or more students who attended the institute. However, for better or for worse, the novelty of his new surroundings was wearing off and the boy was getting used to the routine of morning lessons and afternoon football practice with study and homework to do immediately afterwards. One morning, however, everything changed. And it changed forever.

As he was approaching the school gate, he saw an unusual gathering of people until he felt himself grabbed by the elbow.

«No school today!» Dario informed him with a smile «there’s a strike!».

«A strike?» he asked widening his eyes almost in disbelief «What? Why?».

«I don't know. Looks like they killed a boy. However, everyone says that today we don't enter and go to the demonstration».

«Hey! So lucky! Today there was the math test».

The two boys immersed themselves in the crowd of students who were gathering on the sidewalk and walked towards the nearby park. Going on, the crowd got bigger and bigger as the path met the entrances of the other schools. Having reached a park, the human river stopped, forming a lake made up of a multitude of sweaters, jackets, glasses, books and faces, which, obeying the broad gestures with the arms of some, sat down on the ground.