Reign of the Ruler

It was the 1960's. Johanna was a catholic and her family thought the best education could only be provided by the clergy so she went to a school run by a convent, by nuns. Her parents were right, actually. In a country with such a low quality in education, only private institutions could provide real knowledge for children.

Johanna at first was unhappy. Before going to a catholic school, she had attended one of the districts institutions. The difference was abismal and there was no doubt that they had better quality with the nuns but she missed being with both boys and girls. She had many friends from both sexes and the change proved hard.

But she grew accustomed to that. She discovered that being around girls all the time wasn't so bad at all and, anyway, she still had friends who were boys in her neighborhood so no problem there.

Besides, she loved many of her new teachers. Sister Glenda, music, was one of her favorites. She brought all kinds of music to class and knew how to play every single instrument, or at least that's what it looked liked. She was very skilled and fun to be around.

Sister Clara, biology, was very strict and poised but she encouraged curiosity in her pupils. The best part of the school year was when she brought dead animals to be opened by the girls. Although contrary to what one may think, every single girl loved to do it and only a few went sick after it. They opened iguanas and frogs and also dissected a cow's heart. It was all fun and learning.

Sister Mary was short and chubby and the funniest woman you would ever have the luck to meet. She cooked the meals in the kitchens and also had an optional course for girls looking to learn how to cook a proper meal. In those times, women were taught to be good housewives from school and no one had anything to say about it.
They made cakes and cookies and also stew and baked potatoes. Even before entering the cafeteria, you knew the contents of the meal. And it was heavenly.

But they were not all nice. Some were even known to be cruel and girls whose mothers had come to the school told the others about what it was like years ago: in their minds, it sounded like a prison of the Middle Ages.

In their years, however, there was Sister Joy. Her name was pure sarcasm as no one thought the woman had ever felt joy in her life. She was professor of mathematics, so it was a prefect combo: most difficult subject, most cruel teacher.

It wasn't only that she hated girls talking or not paying attention during her class. She only hit the chalkboard with her one meter ruler and that was it. Things got bad when, for example, Johanna challenged her once about an exercise they had to do as homework. The girl told the nun she thought the exercise was to advanced for them and that's why many had not even done it correctly.

Sister Joy responded by asking Johanna to put her hands on the table and threatened her not to move them or the punishment would be worst. And then she hit her with the ruler, right on her fingers. The pain was awful. The fingers rapidly got swollen and Johanna had to go to the nurse. That wasn't much better as Nurse Amanda, a nun too, was a bit too old for the job and sometimes didn't handled her strength.

They did denounce Sister Joy's actions but to no end. The school said the professors were actually allowed to enforce respect in their classrooms as they wished. However, they told Johanna's parents that they would talk to the mathematics teacher about her ways of responding to the girls.

They were times children had to respect blindly what older people said, even if they were wrong. And besides that, the church was more powerful and families thought the best thing to do was to live how God intended, or rather, how the church intended.

From that moment on, Johanna tried to be better at math and decided not to give any reason for the woman to be mad. But the truth was the kid was not very good in math, so when she failed an important test, Sister Joy told her she wouldn't be able to pass to the next grade. She would have to get an impressive mark in the last exam to do it and that, in her opinion, wasn't probable.

Johanna told all about it to her parents but they just said "Study harder" and so she did. For other subjects she wasn't as dedicated because she liked them or they were somehow easier for her. But for the final math exam she studied a lot, with friends and her brothers and reading and doing a large amount of exercises.

When the time came, she did the best she could and waited. All other exams had gone fine and she was pleased with it but couldn't stop thinking about Sister Joy and her ways to grade the exam. She didn't think a religious woman would be unfair but this woman seemed liked she liked challenges.

The day came and Johanna got her exam. She received 11 points out of 20 but she needed 12 to pass. She compared her exam to a friend's and noticed one of the answers was the same but the way they got there was different. The thing was her friend had receive the point but not her.

She knew she couldn't complain to Sister Joy so she went to her boss. Mother Superior was also a though woman but fair and really nice if she wanted. Johanna told her about the exam and Mother Superior summoned Sister Joy. She had no way to deny her awful attitude. She just said sorry, changed the grade and almost didn't even looked at the girl.

After the summer vacations, Johanna was surprised to learn Sister Joy had left the school to be in a remote convent, somewhere in a valley or something. The girl didn't care anymore, although the younger girls were relieved to know about her departure. She had made that ruler very popular among them but, from now on, it would only be use from time to time to silence a class or to trace simple and innocent lines.

The Mark

His eyes move, a lot, still asleep. His hairs is all on one side so we can easily see, on his forehead, a big mark. Red, with lines and black dots.

The man, or boy pending on your definition, wakes up rather fast, opening his eyes as if he had been scared by the boogieman in a dream. He doesn't move, as the physical pain of his forehead comes to him and he has to relive everything again.

He finally gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom. With one hand he holds his hair and stares at his image. The red mark is centered right above the nose. Frowning hurts a bit but he has no way of doing some other facial expression. He lets his hair down again and pees and then washes his hands.

As he walks to the kitchen, he thinks that at least it's not bleeding now, as it was yesterday night. He touches his forehead with care and then watches his fingers: clean.

In the kitchen, he pours some juice into a glass and drinks half of it as if he had been walking across a dessert for years. When he's done, he goes to the living room and sits on the sofa, to watch people go by.

Have they ever done that too? Have they ever caved to their urges and fears and weaknesses?

Who knows... He just watches them as he finishes up the juice and, once again, touches his forehead.

He then remembers being in school, twelve years old or something like that and being mocked for having peed his pants. He was so afraid of speaking to anyone he had held his urge for too much time and accidents happen. No one was kind, nor nice, nor decent. They were all animals and he hated them for it. He was just a kid and from then on, he felt rejected, an outcast.

No, not the moment for that. He goes to the kitchen again and makes a sandwich. Somehow, he's starving. He must have had an awful dream or one of those were you run like crazy, not knowing why.

He goes back in the sofa and eats his breakfast as he sees a man helping a woman with some boxes. They smile and each other and are oddly kind. People are not like that, almost never

He then remembers what it was for him to turn into a teenager, parties and all. And still feeling left out. It was incredible how much he had hated everyone in school so much, and none of them knew. They had no idea he never wanted to see them again. He didn't wish them harm or anything but he didn't care about their happiness. He was too hurt and alone.

The last year of school was different. He was just himself, as he knew he would never come back again. And college was another story, with different disappointments. No, not all was bad. Friends, real ones, were there.

As he finishes his sandwich, he touches the mark again and goes back to the bathroom. He puts some cold water on it and on his hair, to flatten it so people cannot see it easily. It shames him. It's a mark of shame and despair.

He washes the glass and the plate and enjoys the feel of water on his hands. He flattens his rebel hair again and then goes back to the sofa, now with his laptop. He puts on some music and finds himself reviewing, mentally of course, his bad luck in love.

He had grown tired of going out, dates, getting to know people. They didn't even tried to know him, at least to fake interest. No. They just didn't care much. Sex was first many times and he caved as it was fun and felt good but soon that ran out and it wasn't enough.

And the world wasn't helping. He had grown up to see how he had to look and behave and he wasn't that model everyone was supposed to be. And if you weren't, you lost. And he did, or so he felt.

He changes the song, to something a little more upbeat. Starts reading an article about sea creatures with incredible strength and the people that look out for them.

And again, thoughts. His brain was his enemy, no doubt.

Now he remembered, as if he had forgotten, that he had no money, no job, nothing. He had become bored too of sending his damn CV to every single company, even to fast food restaurants and retail stores. No one wanted him. And that felt awful. It hurt a lot to feel no one needed him, or appreciated what little he could do.

He shook his head, feeling some pinches, as his brain now was trying to escape, to move away as he too had become bored with him. He closed his eyes in pain, trying to push everything inside, deep, never to come back out again.

Suddenly he heard a voice and opened his eyes. It was his mother.

 - Hi.

 - Hey.

 - How are you feeling today?

 - Better. Thanks.

 - Sure?

He doubts.

 - Yeah.

She sighs and moves on to the kitchen.

After hitting himself with the first object he could get his hand on, he stroke his head too with his fists and he had a physical strength that scared him. He had caved to his inner fears, his demons, everything that was eating his brain.

He bled alone and cried as he hadn't done in so many years, when he thought he had kept it all behind. No. The past always comes back to have a bite of your brain, to torture you slowly.

And he, fed up, had taken matters in his owns hands and almost broke his skull.

As his mother made breakfast for herself, he took a few deep breaths and calmed down. He had to be strong, as she had said. "Take control of your feeling. Don't let them control you". And he knew she was right.

He hoped, really hard, that things would change soon. But that is something no one knows, until it happens or it doesn't.

Wandering

When I got to the top of the hill, I realized the street did not continue upwards. Online maps were not really accurate in many ways and this was one of those: they had marked a street but instead all I saw was stairs, very steep and almost endless stairs.

The other option was continue by a side street but that wouldn't take me as high as I wanted and I was hoping to take some pictures of the great view those buildings and houses had. But, then again, I had never learn to breathe correctly and that was needed for such a climb.

Suddenly, a dog appeared. He had a collar but I couldn't see a tag on it or any other human, besides me, nearby. The animal looked at me for a moment and then started climbing the stairs, certainly faster than I would.

I decided he was the signal I was waiting for. I inhaled deeply and started climbing myself. I felt it as an eternity and sometimes I could almost touch the steps in front of me. It was insane. I did not stop for a second as I was afraid I might fall but I tried to listen carefully: only one bird seemed to live around here, despite all the trees. I mean, it was a neighborhood enclosed by a forest.

The first part of the stairs finally ended. Yeah, the first part. I noticed I had arrived to an upper street but the stairs continued further up. I took some pictures with my cellphone, as it was an strangely peaceful place, and the continued my journey.

The second part of the stairs was a lot easier, although my breathing and my legs were already not pleased by me doing this athletic attempt.

From out of nowhere, an older man dressed in a bright sport clothing came down the stairs. As we crossed he said: "Good afternoon". I greeted him the same way and we continued to our destinations. It was not very common for people to greet you on the street, at least not if you weren't a potential buyer or something.

I got to the real ending point of the stairs but did not stop. If I did my feet would hurt even more. Most appropriately, I saw the dog again. That black fur, almost like a sheep, was unmistakeable. What was weird is that the dog was siting down, as if he was waiting for me.

When I approached to pet him he got up and walked toward a private path. It was a curved lane belonging to a big house on top of the hill. I could see the house from the point from where I was standing but one had to walk all along the curved lane to get up there. There were no stairs or any other pedestrian access.

The dog disappeared and I thought that was the end of my adventure. Well, it was fun. A normal street ended right there so I thought I would go down the hill through it.

Suddenly the dog reappeared, now on the high part of the hill, in front of the house. Even more, he barked at me. At first I only waived and turned to head home but the dog barked again. I did this twice more to check my theory: he wanted me to enter the house. And I thought "Why not".

I walked to starting point of the curved lane and noticed there was a gate just a few meters away. When I got there I realized no security guard was there so I just opened the gate and entered private property. It took me only some minutes to get to the garage area of the house, were my furry friend was waiting for me.

The moment he saw me, he moved towards some stairs that lead to the main entrance. When I got there, I did what I came to do: took several pictures of the beautiful afternoon and the mysterious place I was in. I took pictures of the house, the curved lane, the lonely gate and the place were the steep stairs ended.

Suddenly I felt cold and a voice spoke, icy as the wind:

 - She's waiting for you. Please follow me.

I turned and saw a tall black man. It is weird to say this but he seemed perfect, both physically and in looks. His suit was impecable and his face was smooth and his eyes the color of the trees.

The man turned around and entered the house. The dog followed him inside, as well as I did.

I was indicated to wait in a large room. There was a fireplace on one side, a beautiful tapestry on the other and in the third wall, opposite the entrance, a large window from where I could see the woods behind the house.

I took my cellphone out and started taking pictures. Then a new voice startled me and I dropped my phone. I turned around and saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen: she was tall, brunette, big honey colored eyes and skin the color of caramel.

 - You finally came.
 - I'm sorry, I... I think you're mistaken.

The woman smiled. She came neared and then, unexpectedly, she touched my face. It might have been that I was nervous, but I distinctively felt an electrical charge when she touched me.

- You look different. - She said.
- Different?

She smiled again and then turned and walked to a cabinet. Inside, there were many bottles and glasses. She grabbed some and poured two drinks. She asked me to sit on a sofa by the window and she sat near me. I tasted the liquid she had poured: it tasted like whisky.

 - Who are you? - she asked.
 - Who do you think I am? - I asked back.
 - You're a friend. A friend that will help us.

Then, I started feeling dizzy. Maybe the climb was too much for me after all.

 - Help you?
 - Yes. We need an imperfect being to test our last creation.

Imperfect? Who the hell...?

 - Creation?
 - Yes. A serum that makes you...

And then I lost all my functions, as if someone had shut down my body. I could still see and feel and hear but very faintly. I was slowly going away and there was nothing I could do.

The last word I remember hearing was "perfect". And then, I was.

You've gained 5 kilograms

And that was all the stupid machine could say: "You've gained five kilograms". Brian knew that, boy did he knew that.

Exercising in winter wasn't as easy as doing it in the summer. Besides, he had too many good, big meals and he didn't wanted to be that stupid person that says "I'll pass", as if food was something not much more different than a poison.

He got down the scale and, for a moment, thought it might be broken. But that was impossible: it had been bought only a few months ago and worked digitally. No, the stupid scale said the truth.

He went to the bath room and got naked as he had to take a shower. He turner the hot water faucet and then, he glanced at the mirror: he looked back at himself, a little sad, a bit disappointed. He looked down and saw his body was far from those in ads and movies. He wasn't obese or anything but felt bad for not being that perfect model society wanted all of us to be.

In the shower, as he did in bed as he slept, Brian imagined meeting someone who would love him for who he was and for discovering things about him that not even Brian knew.

But when the water stopped falling, he knew that wouldn't be the case. Again, this wasn't a TV series or a movie, there wasn't a someone for everyone and people didn't love you more for being different, just the opposite.

He put on his clothes, grabbed his keys and walked to the nearest bus stop, to wait. Being there, he remembered trying for a whole month to exercise and he did good but no results were evident so he stopped. He wasn't a patient person, so doing exercise for days and days wasn't fun, or interesting or anything. It was just painful and empty. So he just quitted.

He got in the bus and traveled through town for around half an hour until he got down near a mall. He had to go inside and pay some bills his parents had left for him to pay, with their money of course, as he had none to spare.

Standing in line in the bank, he saw a good looking guy also waiting to be served. He was just perfect: blonde, skinny, skin the color of milk and nice behind. He was even well dressed.

To be honest, Brian hated that. People that went through life just being perfect, being the ideal every other normal guy wanted to be. He must even be good in bed and well endowed. That's what Brian thought, checking him out one last time before running his errands.

He had just the time to get to a nearby café and meet Anita. She was had been his best friend for a number of years and he had told every single part of his life to him. Even that time he tried to take his life.

The two hugged, kissed, asked for cappuccinos and started talking about college memories, people they had met and new developments on their lives. Brian talked a lot, mainly because he didn't get to do it as often at home. It was to tell your parents "I hate my life" without a lecture on how easy the solution was.

Anita said the same, though. And Brian got it, he wasn't stupid, but things were hard to do. He didn't have that drive to try new things. A major impediment was the money factor. He felt bad asking and asking and trying and trying, like an idiot.

He parted with Anita, who encouraged him for the last time but he just answered: "I only do one thing right and people don't wanna pay me for it. I'm fucked". And he didn't even feel passion for writing. He just did it.

Back home, he enjoyed silence for a bit and then watched a movie. But in all honesty, he was still thinking on how much he hated his belly, his penis, his face. He hated to be the one that has to try and try and not get anything. Not all people fight for what they have and still they have money, a job, love and much more.

Trying to dissipate those thoughts, he repeated to himself that he at least had a loving family. Although one day he had to leave that house or he would really feel awful.

At night, he published the first chapter of his only novel. That was the boldest thing he could do. The subject was hard to swallow and his writing skills could sure use improvement. But he did it anyway as that was the only thing he could do now, to ease the pain a bit.

The next day, he went to buy some cinnamon rolls for the night and something uncomfortable happened: a guy stared at him, as if he was checking him out. He just blushed, bought what he came for rapidly and ran out of the place like a lunatic.

It was still unbearable when people did that. So cruel even. He tried to forget about it for the rest of the day but couldn't. He decide to log on to his blog to check out if someone had written and comment but nothing. "Self centered bastards".

But the night was even stranger than the day. An old school friend called him to his cellphone. He said he had read his first chapter and told him he really liked. Brian was a bit embarrassed. The guy then said: "We should really meet some time". He was red as a tomato. His only answer was "Ok".

And then life went on with Brian. What happened with the caller or with his ambitions as a writer, I just can't tell you. Why? Because those things haven't happened yet, so we might have to wait for some time to pass until we know what kind of life Brian had.

Lies

We love to believe them. They are comfortable an easy to accept and to live by. We don't really assume them as the truth but they are easy to come by and, let's face it, the truth is sometimes too much for many.

Let's say love. Many people still think they can change others or that love is eternal and forever. But we know what's real: no one changes for real, they only evolve in their ways of being. And love dies, and is reborn once and again. As we are beings of mutation and evolution, love is not bound to us and sometimes breaks during those transformations. It's unavoidable, unless the two people involved have worked for it.

Now, we have to state something else: the obsession of the human race for working and effort. Our humanity tells us that in order to be accepted and even admired, we have to work our bodies off to get somewhere and then, we will have recognition.

But is that really the way things should be? Some people say they work hard all their lives to have a better life but they realize that they never enjoy the life they have worked for. Is that really the life we should have? Or the one we want to have?

What about a life of going after what you want? About discovering your needs and passions? Many think they only can do that when they're young, in school. That's way many young people do drugs, have sex, crazy parties and trips. They think they have to gather memories for the future as their adult lives may not enable them to enjoy the things they like in the future.

That's no way of living, although is a respectable one. Many people worry about money and, unfortunately, they have to. They have no chance of avoiding the responsibility of work, unless they have no real goals.

And that's another problem nowadays: people who have no passions or goals are ostracized, as if working hard made them better than others. The world today has created levels and ranks, making certain people admirable and others, not. Those who work and show their work, are admired, even if their real effort was to look for the right people and doing something slightly better than the rest.

No goals means no ambition and this world runs on ambition. We are made to think we need more and, no surprise, most people work hard to get things that they already have or that they really don't need. In many countries it's more important to buy a TV or a car, rather than assuring a good education or healthcare.

More listings have being created even to classify us, to separate us in groups, in order to divide us even by the way we look: ugly, good looking, fat, skinny,... Or by our perceived behavior: rebellious, slut, intelligent, dumb, empty, sportive,...

And what about creativity? In our world, creativity is only appreciated if it server the general need for more of the same. The most award "creators" are the ones working for advertising companies. It has being proven that most campaigns in that world are rip offs one of the other and of the other. Less than 10% are actually original and even when they are, they serve only the great capital and no the people.

So, when our capacity to create is put aside, scientific thought is also put aside. Many countries prefer to invest their earnings in weaponry and other defense related items. Science is not really appreciated, even in "first world" countries. If the United States invested less in war and more in science, many needed discoveries would have already taken place.

We have been obliged to comply with physical models, for men and women, that are impossible or unlikely. Companies want people to think that they will be much more desirable if they are seen in the gym or doing some kind of exercise. The fact that exercising is good for your health, is almost not important. Looking good is what's important.

Our world is one of lies that we decide to live by. But what if we just said "Fuck it" and started living by our standards? Not everyone has to go at the same pace to get somewhere. If your friend is a successful actress, good for her. But do not try to be like her, try to discover who you are, good and bad, and go from there.

We are told to be fast and not stop because time is money. But time is also life and life, if science is correct, is not done twice by the same entity so we have to live as we want to and not as we are told to.

Let's always remember no to divide ourselves in tiny groups and ranks. That creates discrimination and discrimination leads to hate and hate is no way to live life. Just go as you want and see how much more fun life is if you just do your thing.