Creatures of the Blast

   The place was dead silent, which made Lina smile. It was weird to be in such a building with that overwhelming silence. It was a bit scary but also kind of freeing. The place was enormous and it offered great possibilities to explore.

 She knew that the city had been vacated by its inhabitants many years ago and everything had been left just as it was back then, when they all stopped doing what they were doing, work or school, shopping or exercising, to leave the city they had been living for so many years.

 Lina checked her oxygen tank and saw everything was working according to plan. She had the impulse of checking it every few seconds, thinking she might be contaminated if she wasn’t careful. But the air, as she investigated with a rod-like apparatus, was not as polluted as they had thought. Of course, she couldn’t just remove the mask and start breathing. That would’ve been a very stupid thing to do.

 This city had been the victim of a nuclear attack. Well, not the city properly but a military base located about fifty kilometers to the south. The winds that day were gentle so the city was washed in chemical residue, but it was contaminated anyway. People had time to take shelter because, after all, it had been war and the government had installed an audio system to alert the population of an incoming attack.

 They were all certain it was going to come. They had no doubt of that. The military base, as everyone in the country knew by now, had been used to launch several drone attacks on several targets and it was obvious it was a prime target for their enemies. But they had also thought it would come in the form of a bombardment, setting the city and everything around it on fire.

 But that didn’t happen. Well, not like that anyway. The nuclear blast tore down every major building although some lower ones still stood, as if defying that act of war. Lina had entered one of them, against the wishes of the leader of her group. She felt she had to enter, as it had been the one were people had not been able to escape. It was a television studio building and they had stayed behind to report. So they died, doing their job.

 Lina gathered a few flowers and put them on top of a big rock, which seemed to have being part of something else. She said a short prayer and then left the place. It was probably not very safe to stand beneath a building that sounded like it would collapse in any second. But she had an impulse and had to attend to it.

 When walking through the streets, back to her ATV vehicle, she noticed something strange. She had already felt eyes on her during her stroll around the city, but now she was certain something had been lurking next to her, all the way from the building to her transport. She started to sweat, but tried to relaxed and attributed it to the sun, that was very bright and no clouds stopped it rays from reaching the ground.

 She got to the ATV but then she felt movement behind her. She ducked just in time to avoid being hit by what looked like a very big and hairy black dog. Or maybe it was a wolf. It seemed enraged; his eyes red and his teeth yellow and covered in white foam.  It looked at her and she tried not to move to suddenly. If maybe she was able to get on top of her ATV… But the creature looked at her, already in position to jump again.

 Just when Lina’s thought raced to have a solution for the problem, the wolf creature howled to the sun. That was very strange to see, as the throat and in general all the body of the creature, seemed to crack and move horribly as he howled to the skies. It was as if it was the last thing he would be able to do. Effectively, he dropped dead, or so it seemed, seconds later. Lina didn’t look at it for a second. She jumped into the ATV and raced through the streets back to the compound at the other side of the forest that was used as a natural border of the city.

 All the way back, she still felt she was being followed. But it didn’t matter. She just pressed harder for full throttle, sweating like crazy. The ATV jumped on branches and tree roots when arriving at the forest. She couldn’t stop there but then a large creature jump in front and, stupidly, she pressed the brakes. That action made her body flies several meters over the forest ground, landing loudly on mossy soil, which was very fortunate.

 Her back hurt a lot but she stood up fast, limping. She realized she had twisted her ankle but that was not important. The camp was too close to stop now. She walked for a few meters to a tree and looked around. Her ATV was apparently unharmed but she couldn’t see the creature that had crossed her path.

 It seemed to her that this one was larger that the wolf she had seen in the city. This shadow was larger, more ominous. She regretted pushing the brakes because it was clear she could have continued with no problem. The shadow had only crossed in front of her, clearly not trying to knock her down. It did it miss?

A growl. Lina was already leaning on the ATV when she heard it, if she could, she would have screamed. The creature came out from among some tall bushes, by two thick oaks that appeared kilometers high. This one wasn’t a wolf but, like that one, it was looking right at her. She moved because her injured foot was hurting too bad. This did not seem like a good idea as the creature growled louder, visibly annoyed.

 It was a horrible animal, if that was what that thing was. It walked on four legs but rather clumsily, as it had not yet learned to do it properly. Differently to a dog or a lion, its knees were thicker but its body was as covered in fur as much as any other creature of the woods. It moved towards Lina, who tried not to make a sound but that proved difficult as fear was making her move all her weight right on top of her injured foot.

 The creature moved closer and, oddly enough, seemed to clam more and more as it came into contact with the woman. It sniffed her and she felt her odor: it was disgusting. It reeked of blood and spit and dirt. She tried hard but her body shook like mad. She inevitably collapsed to the ground and thought the creature would know attack. But she was wrong.

 For some reason, the strange animal stood there, looking at her, as she was the most interesting thing it had ever seen. This relaxed Lina a bit who looked straight into the eyes of the animal. Somehow, she knew it was a male, something was clear about it. She couldn’t see her genitalia, to be honest it did not seemed to have any, but she just felt he was a male.

 Against anything she knew was sane, she stretch one of her arms forward, very slowly. The creature was not scared by this act. In fact, it almost ignored it. But that was until Lina moved her fingers, trying to reach his head to stroke it. The woman now had all its attention. The creature and her appeared to be blocked by an invisible filed, about to be broken by Lina’s hand.

 And then it happened. For a single second, she saw something in the creature. She actually saw it all, as a whole. And she understood. She pulled her hand back and the creature roared. Then, a whistling noise was heard and the creature dropped unconscious.

 It had been Robertson, the leader of Lina’s group. He stood by a tree, with two others, and a rifle on his hands. He had shot a tranquilizer to the creature. They walked towards her and Robertson rode her ATV with her. It was a short journey to the camp but she needed to tell him before anyone else knew.

-       Jay...

-       Yeah?

-       That creature…

-       He’ll be fine.

-       He’s a human, Jay.

 He couldn’t look at her as they were just arriving to the main tent but he was visibly unsettled by this discovery.

Soñar salvaje

  En el colegio me lo decían. A veces me lo dicen hoy en día. No entiendo que tiene de malo o cual es el verdadero problema detrás de soñar. Acaso no es solo un verbo, uno que se usa frecuentemente como algo bueno y positivo? Pero cuando me decían “Deja de soñar!” no parecía que me estuvieran alentando sino más bien al revés. En cambio ahora, y creo que siempre, la publicidad y los medios alientan a todo el mundo a soñar más allá. Pero en verdad eso no es lo que quieren.

 Vivo soñando, día y noche. Vivo anhelando cosas que jamás tendré, me imagino a mi mismo en situaciones en las que me gustaría estar o, al menos, en la que creo que me gustaría estar. Es muy extraño. Horas y horas, todos los días, soñando. No hago nada mas﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽o. No hago nada mras y horas, todos los de gustar medios alientan a todo el mundo a soñar mue solo es algo ás, físicamente nada más. Hace años no voy al colegio, y lo agradezco. Mi época universitaria pareció terminar en un abrir y cerrar de ojos y ahora no hay nada.

 Todas las promesas de la vida se resumen en nada. Trabajar y trabajar y seguir trabajando para que? Para no disfrutar nada, para terminar odiando lo que alguna vez se quiso. Matarse haciendo cosas por los demás cuando a los demás no les importa si tu consigues tus sueños porque están muy ocupados persiguiendo los suyos. Y la verdad es que nadie consigue su sueño, tal y como lo imaginó. Eso no existe, son cuentos para niños.

 Yo no quiero un cuento, porque esos son cortos y se acaban con finales que no tienen sentido. Yo quiero una historia, una bien contada y con todos los detalles que sean posibles. Pero una historia bien nutrida, con vida, con chispa. Esta que vivo no es una historia, es apenas un resumen o un documento aburridísimo que nadie quiere leer y, menos mal, nadie quiere tirar a la basura. Es como desperdiciar un papel porque se le ha escrito un poco de un lado. Mejor esperar para poder usarlo de ambos.

 Sí, así pienso de mi vida. Soy ese papel que puede ser usado alguna otra vez, por si a alguien se le da la gana. No soy aquella bella historia encuadernada en el más fino de los cueros, impresa en el más suave de los papeles, con un aroma tan intoxicante como lo es la lectura de la historia entre sus páginas. No, no soy ese libro. A lo mucho, soy uno de esos folletos con más hojas de las necesarias, algunas muy gruesas y otras extrañamente ligeras, atiborradas de imágenes pero sin contenido real.

 Pero no me canso. No me canso de soñar día y noche, con mi mente. Esté caminando por la calle o acostado en mi cama, es como si mi cerebro fuese un joven especialmente intenso que no puede callarse nunca y que no necesita de la atención de nadie. Solo necesita hablar y decir todo lo que piensa o sino podría morir.  Y quien soy yo para no dejarlo hablar? A la larga, es gracias a ese otro yo, ese ser vivo y fantástico, que sigo aquí. Lo tomo de la mano todos los días y paseamos juntos porque necesito de él y él me necesita.

 Algunas veces lo escucho, con gran atención, pero otras prefiero solo sujetar sus dedos sin oír nada de lo que dice. Obviamente, no todo lo que sale de él, de mi, es oro puro. Hay mucha mierda y una que otro pepita brillante, que necesita pulirse con delicadeza. Lamentablemente, no hay paciencia y se requiere de ella para poder pulir todos esos pensamientos que vienen y van.

 Se necesita incluso de una habilidad especial para atrapar esos pensamientos, esos grandes eventos que ocurren en mi mente, para poder usarlos en un momento ulterior. No, no creo que todos valgan la pena. Me conozco bien y sé que muchos son ecos de otros pensamientos, ideas inventadas a partir de sentimientos dolorosos, casi siempre. Es triste, verdad? Que todo lo que eres es solo un montón de sentimientos y eso es lo que te hace especial.

 Porque ser humanos no nos hace especiales. Como seres humanos somos ordinarios, salvajes, sucios, estúpidos y lentos. Si no hubiéramos tenido esos sentimientos, esa cualidad única que tiene el cerebro, estaríamos todavía atascados en los bosques, presa de seres mejor fabricados para la vida en este mundo voraz e incansable. Tan especial es el cerebro, que ha doblegado incluso a la naturaleza. Pero el que manda una vez, siempre manda de nuevo, de una u otra manera. Las cosas cambian pero tienen una ironía especial, volviendo siempre al mismo punto.

 Como yo. Siempre vuelvo a lo mismo. El amor. Maldito sentimiento de mierda. Y lo odio, más que a nada. Y creo que es porque no lo conozco. No sé como es, que hace sentir ni como se ve. Y detesto pensar en lo que no conozco porque me hace sentir temor. Ese sentir es la base de tantas ideas, de tantos pensamientos en ese momento débil en el que estamos a punto de dormir y de pronto todo aparece tan claro como las estrellas en el desierto. Cada estrella es una idea y tan brillante como ellas.

 Pero de pronto todo se apaga y el cerebro se lo traga todo para remplazarlo por nada o por sueños sin sentido que te dan cucharadas de lo que podría ser pero sabes que nunca será. Jamás nadie me va a hacer sentir como esas sombras y seres en mis sueños físicos. Ni siquiera aquellos que viven en mis pensamientos diurnos, seres de mil caras que a veces ni hablan porque ya sé todo lo que quieren decirme.

 Hoy soñar es bueno porque es una meta. Es una meta invisible para perseguir, para esforzarse como una bestia de carga y para escalar montañas invisibles que jamás hubieran sido visitadas de otra manera. Pero soñar hoy es, antes que nada, una gran mentira. Nadie quiere que nadie más alcance sus sueños ya que la base de la actividad humana es la competencia. Nadie hace nada porque sea necesario sino porque necesita ser mejor que alguien más, tiene que vencerlo, doblegarlo.

 Y ahí yace nuestra naturaleza animal, destructiva y desgraciada. Todos los días, en todos los países del mundo, alguien está pasando por encima de otro. Está soñando, dicen unos. Está cumpliendo sus sueños, dicen otros. Y sí, nadie nunca ha hablado de los sueños buenos y los malos porque simplemente no existen. Hay sueños. El contexto en el que viven fluye constantemente y solo se puede esperar sentado y ver que sucede.

 Lo peor de todo es la mentira, lo patético que es ver a gente estúpidamente optimista, pensando que todo va a ser mejor y que sus sueños están a la vuelta de la esquina. Ellos solo quieren lo mejor, o eso creen. Y eso no tiene nada de malo. Si a algo deberíamos tener todos derecho es a conseguir ser felices pero lo que nunca pensamos es que esa felicidad es diferente para cada uno. No se trata de tener todos una linda casa, un lindo esposo o esposa, lindos y brillantes hijos y todos los objetos que el dinero y la belleza física puedan comprar. No, la vida no es así.

 Pero así alguien no tenga nada de eso, seguirá pensando tontamente que lo puede conseguir. Porque la mayoría de personas no pueden mirar al futuro,  la verdad a la cara. No solo somos animales débiles sino que también somos cobardes y por eso tememos a nuestro reflejo en el espejo. La mayoría de la gente no está interesada en la verdad, en los sueños que sí se pueden cumplir. Lo que quieren es ser lo que todos quieren ser, lo que los demás aceptan como el ideal. Y como nadie se atreve a decir nada, pues nunca nada cambia.

 Y que pasa con nosotros, aquellos que soñamos de manera tan salvaje que nos acercamos tanto a la naturaleza que nos igualamos a ella? Pues nada. Nada de nada porque no somos parte del gran grupo, no somos parte del núcleo de la sociedad porque ellos quieren estar lejos de la naturaleza, por brutales que sean. Quieren alejarse de lo que los hace criaturas vivas, quieren ser más. Sueñan con llegar al límite de la riqueza, la belleza y la realización. Cosas que mueren, igual que nuestro cuerpo.

 Pero estamos los otros, los que soñamos con la permanencia, con dejar algo para que alguien en un futuro lo vea y piense que puede soñar de otra manera.  Para que sepa que hay algunos que, aunque frustrados por la sociedad que simplemente no nos quiere, seguimos aquí y nos dedicamos a soñar sin concesiones. Salvajemente y sin importarnos nada. Porque no queremos nada a cambio, solo queremos sentir y así sentirnos vivos.