After

Stepping on the sand, feeling it beneath our feet, it was different. We had been walking along the road for such a long time that we had forgotten what it felt not wearing any shoes, any clothing except underwear.

We were six people, three women and three men, and we had been wandering the country for almost a month. We had begun walking because all the cities had been destroyed, devastated by war. Bombings and attack troops and orbital bombardment. All done because of many wanting the same: rule over the world.

But the world couldn’t be ruled, not by only one person. So all the war had caused a violent reaction from nature. Pests and natural disasters had stopped the fighting and violence. So much was the catastrophe that the war had to be finished, as there were no more troops to hold an invasion, an attack or even to support a small settlement.

Our group had seen thousand of bodies on the roads, mostly of soldiers and other men of war but also from people that had flee the crisis too soon or too late.

I, for one, had stayed in the lowest part of my building, waiting for all the sound from above to stop. I had a radio, a mobile phone and a small portable television but they stopped working after the first month. I also had rations of food and batteries, a lamp and even a sleeping bag. I had been prepared.

Family? None, at least not in this city. They were far away and there was no way of knowing if they were alive or not. All transmissions had died slowly: TV stations, radio stations, satellite feed, everything stopped at some point.

So when I came out, the city were I had lived in for the last five years, was in silence, deserted almost completely. I found a few people on my way out of it and we formed this group. I had told them I needed to go to my family’s city and see if they were dead or alive, as the doubt was eating me up.

The route was a long one so we headed first to a gas station and took several maps to help us get to our destination. We also got a little cart to put all our things in and we would take turns pulling it but in the first week we were lucky enough to find farm animals, cattle and so on. So we borrowed a donkey from one of them and he has proven to be our most prized possession. 

In the group, we all have the same responsibilities and duties with each other. There’s no one that rules over others or someone that gets to do nothing. We all do, we all pull, we all feed Burrito (our donkey) and we all get food and explore the places we walk into.

The good thing is that no one ever complained or tried to be more than the others. We just got along and, to be honest, we try to speak as sparsely as we can. Sometimes there are heat waves, and fighting or talking too much during them would be fatal. We just way under a large shadow and be sure to have plenty of water.

It does seem like some things are running out, like water. We normally find gas stations or supermarkets with bottles that are still good but the natural sources seem to be running out. Just a few days ago, we saw a gigantic patch of mud on the ground. None of us had traveled the region before, but it was obvious a large lake had been there.

We ate anything that would not need frying or real cooking of any kind. We had matches and a portable cooking thingy, but the first ones ran out fast and the other worked on gas, which was not really that easy to find, so we would rather grab all the jerky we could get, ham, cheese, and so on.

Not milk, never, as it had all gone bad already. Most places we entered had that foul smell of milk gone bad. But we rapidly learned how to stand it and soon we ignored it altogether.

We traveled mainly by the roads. Not directly on them, as the heat made it annoying, but on one side, walking on grass or dirt. There were small rural roads and freeways of many lanes. But these days they all looked deserted, except for the many cars left stranded a little bit everywhere.

The tough part was when we started heading up a mountain. We had to do that to go down the other side and from there it was practically a slope towards the ocean.

The mountain was really hard for Burrito and for us. I personally feared more for the animal than for us. We had fed him well with the few fresh vegetables we had found on our way but it never seemed enough for such a creature. On the way up, he was nevertheless relentless. It was like he didn’t feel the annoying angle on which we had to walk.

There was neither snow nor nothing that cinematic, only a lot of chilly wind, trying to topple us with its strength. But after a single afternoon, we made it to the other side. Unfortunately, we had to camp up there. This time, Burrito wasn’t that strong.

We buried his body, first thing in the morning. We all cried and said a few words. A guy on the group had a Bible (he was the religious type), so he said a prayer for the animal. We owed him a lot.

Now it was us who had to pull the cart again but this time it was harder. The weather had gone significantly worse: heavy rain for three straight days and that damn wind that never stopped blowing. Not even when we got to sea level, did the weather stopped.

This moment proved to be a test for all of us. It was then we really had to meet each other, when we learned about each other and why we were doing what we were doing. It wasn’t like before, when we wouldn’t speak or even breath too loudly. Maybe it was the rain, but that had changed.

Now, during dinners, we would share stories about our past. The unspoken rule was that only one could tell his or her story per night, but the person could decide for how long they wanted to speak. At first, the stories went on for as much as fifteen minutes but, with time, we got to a story spanning several hours, during which we would eat something and enter our sleeping bags.

The road after the mountain was difficult, very rough to the legs and arms. The person pulling the cart always had the worst part, as it was too hard to do it on rocks that would move when passing on them. It was sometimes dangerous and, many times, it pulled out all the feelings people were hiding.

But that didn’t split the group; it actually made us much stronger, like a family. We were learning to live together but we knew we stood no chance if we were to take on this new world by ourselves. Without saying much, I believe love started growing among us, the kind of love you have for sisters and brothers.

Rations were getting smaller. For some reason, these roads had nowhere to find food or canned goods or nothing. For a good week, we fed very poorly, and it was starting to show. Some of us had yellowish, greenish tint on our faces, as if we were in a constant urge to vomit.

So when we finally got to the city, everyone acquired new strength. The possibilities to find food were a lot higher here than anywhere else. And we did, yes we did. We ate like pigs our first night there. We actually ate pig: a lot of preserved ham and canned beans still good. And there was water and, in a hotel, we had found an ice room still working for some reason. We played like children in there, freezing but happy.

The next day, was the day we went to the beach. And it was then, when we first felt we were alive, that we were reminded of our humanity and that our time here was not done yet.

Some walked the beach hand by hand. Others, like me, just stood there with sand up their ankles, watching the ocean. The waves, coming and going.

And there I cried again, the first time since Burrito had died, the second time since… Since I didn’t know when. I was alive but the word was dying and we all knew it.

Dear diary

Day 1

Hey book! Well, I'm kinda wasted and you're my birthday present so let's get it rolling !!

God, I'm bored. Is it ok to be bored when you've had like thirty screwdrivers? I mean, I kinda get all horny and crazy when I drink but now I'm just so bored, you know?... No, I mean, how would you know. You're a book. What an idiot.

Well, besides this stupid thing, I only got this cute blouse and some earring and bracelet. And not much more. Oh yeah. My man gave me a surprise. Get ready for it... HE SLEPT WITH SOMEONE ELSE ! What a fucking shocker, isn't it? And you know what is the worst, besides IT ALL, of course? The fact that I found him in bed fucking someone else. The bed we had shared many times. How fun is that?

Do you want even more fun? Cool. He was fucking a dude. Yeah, like you heard it. I so his ass and dick before he hid from me like a fucking weasel, as if I was going to attack him or whatever. Well, no. I'm a lady, dammit! I behave properly in all social events, even in those where my boyfriends, or ex boyfriend to be more precise, is banging a guy. Yeah, I'm a queen of the people.

So yeah, that's my beautiful, awesome, fucking present. Great, right? I can't wait for Christmas. Maybe I'll get vaginal warts or some shit. Or maybe I'll be hit by a truck. From now on, everything goes downhill, right?

Fuck, I'm tired and bored and whatever.  Bye, diary.

Day 2

Hello. Well... it's weird because I feel I have to apologize for what I wrote last week. I was so down in the dumps, so hurt and angry and I wanted to kill with my bare hands. I didn't wanted to write again because, who cares about this in the end. But I realized it may be good for my mental health if I get things out before they start poisoning my brain.

I normally don't curse that much. Only when I'm really pissed or drunk. Last week, I was both. Then again, how do you handle it? I ask myself over and over again: "How are you going to cope with this and move on?". Well, tough luck for me because it ain't easy. That's the truth.

Thank God, and my social skills, I have many good friends and they have all said something different: some think I should forgive him, others that I should have revenge, others that I forget what happen and move on to the next one. But I can't do any of those because it feels unnatural to just do something without really thinking what it means.

I think I should note that Gary and I had been together for a little more than a year. I never noticed anything strange or particular and he never told me he liked guys. I mean, I even asked him once if he would ever have sex with a guy, even in a threesome with one girl, and he said no. That was like a chance for him to tell me the truth but he didn't.

I don't know what to do as he has called me, asking to see me to explain but I don't want that. I'm hurt but I try to understand and it's hard. I'm heartbroken, yes. But, mostly, I'm disappointed by the lie. I felt like he was my friend and the fact that he didn't tell me something hurts much more and the cheating part.

Well, I guess things find their way to correct themselves, and slowly fade away... Let's see what happens.

Day 3

Fucking day... Sorry, wrong way to open a... conversation, of sorts. But I'm so pissed right now. My boss has been asking both my legs and arms and then yells at me like a mad doh in front of everyone because I dare to demand I raise. All the work he claims it's his, it all comes from me. And I've just had it so I was fired. Yeah, so, life's fucking me twice I guess.

Then again, work had always been like this but I guess I confronted my boss in a moment he was specially sensitive and man have i been sensitive too these days. So I guess it was bound to happen, something big like this.

I haven't told anyone yet, though. My parents are going to worry and argue with me and my friends will roll their eyes or give me support that, at the end of the day, is all words but nothing to really to hold on to.

And the other thing I should tell is that... Well, Gary called me while I was picking up my things from work and I just bursted into tears and told him what was happening. I know I said I hadn't told anyone but he just called in my most vulnerable moment. He even showed up, helped me carry a couple of boxes to his car and then invited me lunch.

I hate myself for writing this but... I remembered what it felt to love him, to care for him. And right after I would hate myself for thinking of him as a nice memory after he did what he did. I asked him for the explanations he had wanted me to hear and it was worse. Worse because I couldn't blame him. I had met his parents and they are the most conservative couple I have ever met. They go to church and to conservative rallies and the woman is worried every time of what her husband might say and the guy is the biggest bigot you can think of.

Gary told me he always felt attracted to guys but his family almost made him like girls so he dated girls and had sex with them, from high school until now. But his dad had suffered a heart attack recently and apparently that changed it all for him. He told me he wanted to end with me on better terms and couldn't and then met this guy online and invited him to his house...

I mean, I cannot forgive him for lying. I can't because he had choices. But I understand why he did what he did and it's better now that I know some more about him. I love him still, there's no point in denying it. Maybe I would be able to transform that into a nice friendship but, for now, he's just a nice guy that was there today when I needed a shoulder to cry on.

Day 4

Man, I have written so little in here. Only four times and so much has happened during that time. It's crazy... Well, i was fired a month ago. That's the last time I wrote. After that I told everyone about my job, although I only told my closest friends about my encounter with Gary.

Well, first and most important, I got a new job. A friend directed me to her uncle and I'm working with him on advertising for local brands. It's cool, not really what I was used too but it's cool and I do need the money so, it doesn't hurt at all.

I have seen Gary again and I think we can be friends. You know, it's weird to imagine that with someone you have slept with. It seems strange to treat someone like a friend but knowing their "sex face". I actually said that the other day and Gary laughed and tried to do my "sex face" and they I did his and we had a blast.

What I'm certain of is that I don't want to commit to anything right now, other than my job and my responsibilities as friend, daughter and sister. I don't want another relationship. As I said a month ago, I understand Gary but cannot trust him easily and same goes with other men. I'm just afraid people are going to lie to me again but... I guess it's bound to happen right? We're human after all.

To replace to need for attention and love, I got a cat from a neighbor who was giving away kittens from the couple she owns. I named him Snowcone, because he's all black except for the face. I was thinking of Vanilla but he's a male so it would have been kind of misleading to people. He's always close and cuddles with me... I don't know, I need that now. Here's hoping I don't become a crazy old cat woman.

Well dear diary, you have a been a very nice gift after all. You have prevented me from becoming insane and, after all, don't we all need something like this? We need to speak up, loud and clear sometimes in order to make our voices heard, even if it for ourselves. We need to tell ourselves that we are not freaks. We're just people. Right?

Breath In, Breath Out

Brenda had been going to the doctor for a year now. She had discovered she suffered anxiety and depression and they told her that she should be medicated and doing special exercises to be calm.

She went to yoga class, two hours every day. There, she tried hard to do the exercises correctly but the truth was that Brenda had never really exercised in her life, at least if you don't count walking the city looking for a job as a sport.

She had been jobless for a year and her health problems, or should we say mental issues, were to blame. Brenda had a crisis one day, punching herself, yelling, screaming and attempting to jump from a balcony. So she was fired.

Her parents, already disappointed that their daughter had not found a suitable husband, found her problems to be the last drop in their glasses. So they just sent her money and try to help her that way.

Besides yoga class, she had to attend a psychiatrist. This, she hated. The woman would only sit there and let her talk for a whole hour, an expensive hour. Brenda would have dropped out if her doctor wasn't like a falcon, watching her every move.

Sometimes, she would only tell the psychiatrist what she had dreamt. She found out that an hour could pass fairly faster if the woman had to decipher dreams, all of which had apparently the same theme: her suicidal thoughts.

Brenda had only thought of that option at that time. She had been cheated on, she was miserable at her job and meeting her friends proved to be a difficult task.

She had only three females friends from school. They would reunite at least once a month to chat about the new and exciting things they were going through. That was precisely what Brenda hated: as she was not banging anyone and her job as assistant archivist was not precisely movie material, she would always spend those meetings in silence or fake smiling and laughing at the precise moments.

It was not that Brenda had not had her share of fun. She had indeed: sleeping with men and going on interesting vacations. But they were anecdotes that one could only repeat once or twice, before they became annoying to others and hurtful to herself.

The psychiatrist once asked about sex. "What about it?", Brenda replied. She hadn't done it in a year and a half and the last time the man she had done it with had cheated. She had enjoyed, during college, the crazy sex nights. It didn't happen often but she had her fun. But when she liked someone for real, Brenda was always honest. But honesty was not a quality most men found appealing, or so it appeared.

Love was this mystical being for her, like a unicorn. Very few people actually see it and there's the strong possibility one would never see it in this lifetime.

Religion? Another fun question. Of course she wasn't religious. She just couldn't. Temples, of all denominations,  made her nervous. It was this overwhelming aura that felt too much to carry on your own and the words were simply not helpful.

After her breakdown, Brenda hid herself in books. Adventure and science fiction, as they were her favorites. They told stories of worlds that didn't existed, that could not exist. And she liked that very much.

Brenda lived alone, only with a dog named Luna who was her only real friend and companion. Luna had licked her wounds of self hatred and would always sleep beside Brenda as she read a book. The dog, ironically, was a gift of a college flirt that she had never had anything with, besides smiling and having small silly talks.

What she liked best was that moment after you put your book down, pull the covers up and wonder about the world in the darkness of your room. She would imagine a life that would make her happy: writing her own stories and becoming famous, sharing her thoughts with people, having a beautiful house with Luna and a special male friend.
He would take her hand often, kiss her in the most unexpected moments and comfort her when she would fall into the pit of her mind.

Brenda would often go to sleep just like that. And then, the next day, she would realize the world is not made of fulfilled wishes but of an almost endless effort to be a bit more happy.

Drive

Ariana took the lead tube from the floor. The man slowly stood up from the ground and looked at her, as if he wanted to kill her.

But she was beyond that. The girl tightened her hand around the tube and, before he could do anything, hit the man on the head once and again and again.

When she stopped, he was dead, his blood forming a small pond that grew larger by the minute. She ran from the place, not letting the tube go.

Half an hour later, she got to her house. She finally let go of the bloody tube that hit the floor hard. She slowly took her coat off, trembling a bit, remembering how he looked after she had killed him.

No, she didn't felt pity or remorse. She just couldn't. Ariana had promised herself never to be a victim again and she had taken steps for that not to happen. She went to a martial arts school and began doing yoga, although she failed miserably at the latter.

Fighting, the inexplicable drive she felt when hitting another body, was to her like a drug. A brand new one she discovered to be very addictive.

So that night, when she killed a man that had attempted to rape her, she felt powerful and strong, filled with adrenaline and ready to take the world by her rules and not by the ones society imposed. She was fed up by the feeling of fear and hopelessness. No, she decided to take action.

Many people, mainly man, were afraid of strong women. Days after the killing, she went out with a former lover called Richard, by her request. He had stated she was different somehow but that he liked it. She just smiled, not really understanding what he had meant.

News of the murder filled the papers soon but the man was a reported rapist and many of his victims were thankful for his demise. Some actually said they were happy as that was what he deserved. Others just wanted time to heal, both physically and mentally.

But Ariana had already healed, or at least that was what she said to herself. Before the first attack, the one that almost made her insane, she was just a fearful girls just sailing through life, not really counting on anything. The attack just made her even more shy, more scared and she even lost the will to live.

Now, however, she had taken the bull by the horns. Richard, now her boyfriend, was specially surprised by how much she had changed over the years. He knew hair as the bookish, rather dull girl in high school. To be honest, he never paid attention to her back then.

But now it was impossible not look at her: she had blossomed into this sexy and daring woman. Sex was wonderful and even better was sharing long talks with her. Ariana had always loved reading, so she had decided to open a small bookstore. She did it all by herself and just a year after she was a favorite in the neighborhood.

Richard moved in with her and they shared even more than before: travels, memories, experiences and more. One day she finally told him about her rape. Richard was an even better man that she taught. She kissed and hugged her and promised to be there forever.

Of course, sometimes she still remembered everything: the rape, the aftermath and the killing of that man, in a dark alley. That was her biggest secret and she never told anyone. Ariana never felt guilty for what she had done but she knew it was a sin with which she would have to live forever.

And she did. She lived a full life, doing what she loved, living life by her rules. The man that loved her shared her feelings for the beauty of life and the horrible events of her life never tainted the powerful drive to keep on going.

The Summit

They were almost there. Raul, the guide, had said it was only a hundred meters or so to the tallest point. Or so they thought he had said. Hearing wasn't an easy task, as the wind blew stronger in the altitudes Breathing was also difficult and the freezing cold made it even harder.

It was the first time any of them, except Raul, had attempted to hike such a tall mountain. It had been called Ritacuba Blanco and the name was fitting: the place was covered in a think layer of snow, that confused every sense and the mind.

Again, Raul, who was the first in the line to the top, yelled something but this time no one heard him. The wind appeared to be muting all of the members of the team on purpose, although that was obviously preposterous.

They walked another fifty meters and then they understood what Raul had said. Laura, the scientist from Pasto, fell in a crevasse and pulled everyone else into it. Luckily, Raul and Juan had their tools ready and held strongly on the white floor. Fast, the others helped Laura getting out and avoided the crevasse. Franco put a red flag by the gap on the floor, pierced the snow with all his strength.

They continued for a few minutes until they made it to the top. Raul warned them, breathing with difficulty, that they could only stay for a few minutes. As they had no oxygen tanks, staying more than necessary could mean dying there or on the way down.

There were six explorers, seven with Raul. They all sat on some rocks that overlooked the cliff, on which the tallest point was located.

Juan, as experienced as he was, took just one moment to see the scenery and then went back to Raul and started talking about the descent. It wasn't that he took it all for granted, not at all. Juan was just thinking of so many things at same time and seeing mountains from the top of another mountain didn't do anything for him. He had a wife and a baby girl to think of. At the cost of loosing what he loved most, he had to choose either a well paid job or loosing them both.

Laura, however, sat on a rock and filled her lungs with the purest air she might ever breath. It was true that oxygen was scarce, was somehow it felt cleaner and better than anything else. She loved how the mountains looked and how beautiful the world looked like this, just peaceful. It was different of what she had known her whole life, and the fact that this beautiful place existed not that far from home, was overwhelming to her.

Luis, an mature hiker with a thick beard, inhaled too but many more times, as if he defied the world. Only Raul knew that Luis was dying of cancer in the blood and this journey was a way of saying to life "you can't beat me up". The mountains and what he saw weren't as beautiful to him as the fact of having being able to do it all on his own, this last few months. He was going to die, true. But he wanted to imprint his mark on the world.

Veronica, a geology student, had come with a camera and started taking pictures as soon as they had reached the summit. She was a cheerful photographer, having documented her life and her family's life in huge amounts of pictures. Digital or analog, she didn't care. She only cared about keeping memories alive forever and this was her way of doing so. She had lost her father recently, and he had promised to go hiking with him. She wanted to take the most beautiful pictures to honor her father's memory.

Marcos and Tomás thought of each other as brothers. They admired the view, never kneeling or crouching or sitting but standing up to it, taking it all in as if it was a gift that one couldn't just let pass by. Both men, still young but already working through life, had decided to take this trip to defy their bodies and test, once more, the limits of their friendship. Marcos and Tomás were not real brothers, not relatives by blood. They had lived together from a young age as orphans, on the streets and under the care of others. But they never let each other go.

The six visitors came to the mountain, each one with a kind of mission. Some of them were successful, others not so much. But what was valuable wasn't the physical prowess as such. It was the fact that they had decided to take a challenge in order to honor something, to be true to themselves.

As they returned to the base camp, near a beautiful blue lake, their lives seemed to have improved, at least a little, even for a tiny space of time. They had learned no one defies a mountain out of courage or for the need of glory. All who do it, do it just for the urge, the need to define who they are.