Something disturbing happens in Roccachiara: the colors of the village slowly begin to fade. Nico and Amina realize that this isn't just a strange phenomenon, but the sign of a deeper loss, tied to memory and the way a community stops telling its story. Guided by a wise grandfather, a silent library, and a listening forest, the two young people embark on a journey of listening, true words, and shared gestures. Through forgotten celebrations, symbolic lanterns, and stories that call for courage, the tale leads the reader on a delicate reflection on identity, belonging, and collective responsibility. A poetic tale that invites us to slow down, remember, and care for places through living culture.
A tale for children and adults about memory, shared stories, and the power of sincere words
Children's Storybook. The Lights of Roccachiara. Chapter 3: The City of Lost Colors
In Roccachiara, after the long weekend and the Sunday in the woods, people had gone back to doing their usual things. But Nico noticed that, beneath the surface, something had changed: they greeted each other more often, stopped for a moment more, and even the arguments at the bar seemed less bitter. It was as if the town had learned a little art: that of slowing down when necessary.
One Monday morning, however, something happened that no one had expected.
Nico left the house and saw the yellow house at the end of the street—the one where Amina lived—and his eyes widened. The yellow was gone.
The house was… normal. Gray. Not dirty, not ruined: simply gray, as if someone had taken a brush and erased the paint without leaving a trace.
Nico ran to Amina's house, rang the bell, and when she opened the door, he pointed to the wall without even speaking.
Amina looked at the facade and remained motionless. Then she said, in a voice that seemed smaller than usual:
«Yesterday it was yellow.»
Nico nodded. "I can't be wrong."
Amina shook her head. "No. You're not wrong."
Amina's mother came out behind her, drying her hands. She looked at the wall, then at the sky, as if the sky were to blame.
"Strange..." he murmured. "Maybe the light."
But it wasn't the light. It was the color that was missing.
Word spread quickly around school. "The yellow house has turned gray!" they said. Some laughed, some were frightened. Teacher Claudia tried to calm everyone down: "Maybe it's the humidity, or a problem with the paint..."
Then, however, other signals arrived.
In the afternoon, Nico passed the old bakery sign, which was red and white. He noticed that the red seemed faded. Not faded as with time: faded like a photograph losing its brilliance.
And at the bus stop, a billboard with a huge orange sun looked… duller.
Amina joined him, uneasy.
"Do you see it too?"Nico nodded. "Yes. It's not just your house."
Amina took out her notebook. Ever since they'd started frequenting the forest, she'd been writing all the time: maps, sentences, notes. This time, however, the notebook didn't feel like a game. It felt like a document.
"Last night I dreamed of a city," said Amina. "A beautiful city, full of colors. Then someone turned off the lanterns and the colors disappeared."
Nico felt a shiver. "And where was this city?"
Amina hesitated. "I don't know. But I saw a name on an arch: Cromavia."
Nico laughed nervously. "Chromavia? What... chromatic?"
Amina looked at him seriously. "Yes. But in the dream it seemed real. And I..." she lowered her voice, "I think it's not just a dream."
