Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta story. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta story. Mostrar todas las entradas

jueves, 18 de septiembre de 2014

Empress

She was kind, beautiful, joyful and full of good wishes for here people. And they loved her back, they admire her and girls wanted to be like her.

Anyone in the planet knew about the Empress, about Alysthina Jygda. Daughter of a butcher and a baker, she grew up in one of the many villages of the marshlands. Such a sad place wasn't the place one would expect to find such a beautiful girl, dedicated to the gathering of marshons, fruits that only grew deep in the wetlands. No one really knew how, but she was very skill at navigating his spaces and she was adored for this, as marshons were the primary export of the villages.

So beloved she was that, when the prince did his voyage around the planet to choose a bride, no one in the marshlands was surprised when he decided to take her as his bride. The wedding was majestic and she was even more beautiful, if that was people.

Time passed and the couple became emperor and empress and, about fifteen years later, he died diving for pearls in their summer house. A horrible death mourned by everyone, it was the stepping stone for Alysthina to become the ruler of the planet, the caretaker of every single thing in all of the lands.

But certainly, some did not really appreciate her skills and beauty. Although small, a group of people around the planet found hard to believe that the emperor had died in such and incident, specially knowing he had lived in those same islands when a youngster.

They also spread the idea that something was wrong with the empress: in roughly twenty years the planet had know her, she had barely aged, at least visibly. But people dismissed this idea by stating that she had "good blood".

No member of her original family was alive to see her enthroned, as her parents had died some years after her wedding, of old age, and she hadn't had any brothers or sisters or any other relative that was know. Her family now was her only child, princess Sygma. She was named by her father after the star that brought its heat to the planet. She was as beautiful as her mother but with some traces of her father's features.

One day, however, the princess also died. As stated by the Empress, she had wandered through a nearby forest, slipped on a rock near a river and hit her head on other rocks. Her burial was broadcasted planetwide but, oddly enough, the Empress seamed always calm and never dressed in black. Actually, she wore a stunning pearl white dress the her daughter's burial. People fell in love again with her, more than ever.

Months after that, an ambassador from a nearby world arrived to give the Empress the condolences of his world. He also gave her a present from his king: a beautiful necklace made only of rubies.

She was please by the gift but even more by the ambassador: a young, strong man with interesting new ideas. She seduced him and soon, she announced a wedding.

This was kind of a turning point for her. The people weren't really ready for her to remarry but there was nothing they could do.

The wedding, as expected, was magnificent. But something strange happened. The first night they would expend together as empress and emperor, changed the lives of everyone in the planet.

The man escaped the castle, frightened to death. He yelled and screamed through the nearby town, stole a starship and left the planet. Every one was confused by this until they discovered the reason he had left: the day after her wedding, Alysthina appeared with dark green skin and red eyes.

The reason of her youth was revealed: as a young woman she had given her life to Omaku, the god of evil. Why? she thought rulers had been neglectful to the planet and that she would make it all better. But the pact did not contemplate a second marriage and, least of all, for love. So he took away her beauty as payback.

The empress then became vengeful and the planet soon fell in the age of darkness, waiting for someone to liberate it from the good will but bad outcome of the wish of one woman stunning woman.

lunes, 8 de septiembre de 2014

The Gardens of Versailles

Windy and chilly. A typical parisian winter, or at least that's how it is at the beginning.

Today, Paul has got on a train to visit one of the most spectacular places in the world: the chateau de Versailles. A beautiful palace where the King once lived and the infamous Marie Antoinette lived her life, isolated from the rest of the people.

That's how you fell, after you've seen the museum and you start wandering through courtyards and gardens: you feel alone in the world, even if there are hundreds of tourists around

What Paul didn't expect was running into an old school mate. No, they were not friends. Far from that: they despised each other. Jonah was always the athletic jock, not that beautiful to be honest but always life of the party and center of attention. Paul was just the opposite.

Jonah was buying a sandwich from a lady in al old kiosk and then he saw Paul. And Paul saw him. It was one of those moments when time freezes because you don't really know how to react. It was too late to fake not seeing the other man and too strange of a situation to say anything.

It was Paul that came closer and bought a hot beverage from the same lady. It has to be said that he had being trying to change his elusive and shy self in order to be more assertive and spontaneous. So, when he saw Jonah, what would be more spontaneous than just greeting him, as if he was better than all that had happened in school.

To be honest, only discomfort happened. There were never awful jokes or nasty discrimination: it wasn't a movie high school or an american one for that matter. They just disliked each other and that was it.

Anyway, Paul greeted Jonah and Jonah responded. They asked for their respective lives: Paul was in Paris in a holiday. He lived in Berlin, working in a restaurant as an apprentice of the main chef. He had always loved food. On the other hand, Jonah lived in London and was working in a big advertising company.

They fake smiled and had small talk, walking along the path that lead to the Grand Trianon. They ate and drank their respective foods.

 - Did you come here by yourself? - said Jonah.
 - Yeah. You?

Jonah nodded. Paul didn't know but Jonah had a nervous crisis a year earlier. He had being in a relationship with a girl from school and realized he was bored to death by her. They had come together because of their "status" in life but that faded fast when they moved to London.
The separation broke Jonah as he didn't know where he stood. With difficulty and thanks to some friends and his work, he seemed to come back to life.

But he didn't say this to Paul. Only that he always wanted to visit the palace and see its grandeur at least once. Paul agreed: it was a personal dream of his to visit Paris, a well regarded place for food, and specially to walk through places so charged with history and beauty as these gardens.

After watching the furnitures and art inside the Trianon, they walked through the village created by Marie Antoinette to recreate a fairytale town, with animals and beautiful houses and even a pond.

There, Paul told the truth: he had suffered to much when caring for people and keeping the truth hidden, about his feelings and thoughts. So about six months ago he had decided he would change that and try to be more open and bold.

Jonah was curious.

 - Like what would you say then?
 - I had a crush on you in high school. I thought you were so perfect. I knew I could never be like you. It was weird.

And the Jonah kept asking why and how and when and Paul answered every questions as they fed some bread to the ducks and walked through narrow paths.

 They walked closely but never too close. They didn't say a word for several minutes as they walked to the front gate.

 - Would you take a drink with me? - asked Jonah.

Paul was confused. He hadn't had the intention of making Jonah feel bad or obliged somehow by his story. He expressed this to him as they neared Versailles-Rive Gauche train station.

 - It's not that... I'm just here 'till January 2nd and it would be nice to see the city with someone else. Don't you think so?

He certainly had a good point.

 - Ok. You're right. I was planning on scouting the left bank neighborhoods tomorrow.
 - That's great. But first a drink.

An hour later they were drinking wine in small bar were they chatted for several hours. So many hours that the owner had to ask them to leave as he had to close the establishment.

A bit drunk and all talkative, Jonah confessed to Paul he was glad to find him in Versailles. Paul only thanked him and abruptly changed the subject, a little bit annoyed to feel good about revisiting his past.

Paul invited Jonah to his hotel were they ate bread and jam and two more bottles of wine.

It wasn't strange when, after two bottles and only a few hours until sunrise, Paul kissed Jonah and the former jock stood still. Paul was ashamed and Jonah was speechless. He decided to grab his coat and leave.

Paul barely slept, all alcoholic intoxication lifting from his body by the thought of his mistake. He had gone to far and he had to learn from it. So much for the walk around the Rive Gauche.

After lunch time, he decide that walking would be better than staying at home. As he put on his coat, the phone rang. It was the front desk lady stating someone was waiting for him downstairs.

Indeed, waiting by the travel brochures, there was Jonah.

 - We should visit Montparnasse Tower. They say the view is great.

And there they went. The day was gray and gloomy but it went perfect as they slowly became friends. No mention was made of the kiss, not once all day.

But the truth is that when they parted in the airport days later, Jonah eyes were watery and Paul had memorized Jonah's scent. They shook hands, as if they had always being great friends and then went on with their lives, each one changed a bit by a casual and random encounter in a place full of magic.

sábado, 6 de septiembre de 2014

New Freedom

Official Transcript # 485

Interrogation officer: Please, state your name.
Inmate 3063: My name is Jordan Skye.
I.O: Louder, please.
J.S: I'M JORDAN SKYE!
I.O: Occupation?
J.S: Special agent of the UN special forces unit.
I.O: Can you prove that?

Silence. Jordan sighs.

J.S: Not at the moment.
I.O: Why?
J.S: No papers, man.
I.O: Please sum up the events occurred on September 6th.
J.S: That was the day after the invasion.
I.O: Proceed.
J.S: I was part of a small group that came in with the rebels, on their ships. As they took the city, we had a special priority.
I.O: Which was?
J.S: Capture Minister Sumter.
I.O: What were your orders regarding him?
J.S: Capture and bring him to justice.
I.O: Which justice?

Again, Jordan sighs, tensioned.

J.S: Had to take him to Geneva.
I.O: What happened September 6th?

Jordan fists close, as if imagining the man's neck.

J.S: The rebels were winning. You were winning.
I.O: We know.
J.S: I fucking bet that.
I.O: Keep going.
J.S: My team was composed of seven men and women. Three of them had to secure Sumter. My partner and I were the ones that had to going in his office and take him.
I.O: Partner?
J.S: My husband.
I.O: The new government overruled those rights. Are you aware of it?
J.S: I don't give a shit.

The interrogation officer moves on his chair but doesn't say a word.

I.O: You failed. Why?
J.S: Supporters of Sumter overran me and my team. They started to chase us. I lured them to me in order for my team to be extracted by fellow rebels.
I.O: No report of that on our data.
J.S: Secret operation, genius.
I.O: You were captured by those men, correct?
J.S: That's right.
I.O: Then, you were rescued by the new government on September 10th, correct?
J.S: Rescued is a strong word.

The room feels too cold. Jordan wraps his arms around himself trying to the cold not to diminish his spirit.

I.O: What happened between your capture by those men and your extraction?
J.S: You know what happened. You did the tests.
I.O: Please, sum up for record.

Jordan tries to talk but his mouth feels dry. There's a glass of water on the table but he doesn't take it. He wets his lips with his tongue and talks.

J.S: I was held prisoner in some old barracks or a hangar. I don't really know.
I.O. Hangar A-03, Sumter Military Base.
J.S: Ok... I was tortured by the group of men that captured me.
I.O: Were you visited by Sumter during that time?
J.S: Never.
I.O: What kind of torture were you submitted to?

The man looks at the officer and smiles.

J.S: This is fucked up.
I.O: Please state the nature of...
J.S: They raped me, ok?! They fucked me with a stick or something and tortured me with water and punched and hit me, for hours.
I.O: Were you given food or water?
J.S: What a fucking stupid question.
I.O: What happened on September 10th?
J.S: You people showed up and apparently took me here.
I.O: What happened before that?

Jordan stands up, annoyed.

J.S: None of your business.
I.O: This is a report for the republic. We need...
J.S: You don't need shit!
I.O: Our team extracted a body along with yours. Whose body was it?

Shadows do not allow Jordan to see his interrogator well but he tries to glare at him, hurt.

J.S: You have his body?
I.O: Yes. Who is he?
J.S: You have my husband.
I.O: Those rights were...
J.S: Fuck you! That man got in that airbase and attempted to save me. He did something as you stood there, forgetting what we did to let guys like you keep on living.
I.O: He was unsuccessful.
J.S: They caught him. He was framed. They beat him up in front of me. They made me watch...

Jordan has started crying, in silence.

J.S: Then, they told him because of his bold act he had to see me go. Turns out, right in the moment they were going to kill me, the gang's leader changed his mind and shot him in front of me. I fainted after screaming my lungs out. I woke up here. In this prison.

The interrogation officer stands up and exists the room. Jordan walks to the door but they shut it. He then hears a voice on the speakers.

I.O: Thank you, Jordan Skye. You may go to your cell now.

Another door, on the opposite wall, opens. But Jordan does not walk towards it.

J.S: I told you everything. Let me go now.
I.O: You will be released in due time. Have a good sleep.

Two men enter the room. Jordan tries to fight but they have a needle, the needle he has learned to fear. He slowly falls asleep, letting go, again.

jueves, 4 de septiembre de 2014

Letter for me (Part 4)

Hey me,


I write you, or me, from my bedroom. Strange, huh? Well, another week passed and more happened. So here it is.

I decided to be honest with the family. They are not to blame in any of this and I had to tell someone about all of this. I mean, after the last letter I remember feeling I was going crazy. I didn't know what was real or not.

So after coming back from "jogging" around the neighborhood, I decided to tell Susan everything. She very patient and calm. She just sat there and let me say every single thing that I had been thinking and feeling, including the fact that I believe this is not my life and that they are not my family.

When I said that, I saw here eyes filling with tears but she contained them as long as she could. I didn't know she was such a strong person, so well put together. She's a therapist, you know? Maybe that's why after talking for thirty minutes straight and then falling silent, she just grabbed my hand and hugged me.

Susan told me she knew something was wrong and that she was happy I finally decided to tell her. She said she loved me and wanted all the best for me. She even offered taking me to a friend of hers, a psychiatrist. Susan think it will help.

To be honest, it has not helped me one bit. I have been going once every day, so I've seen that creepy guy five times. And believe me, you don't get used to someone picking your brain with stupid questions for one hour. I hate going there but Susan seems to be happy about it and I don't want to disappoint her.

And, to be honest, what else is there for me now? That life I had o r think I had has been dead for far to long because I can't seem to get a grip of it.

I know, the drawings... Yeah, that keeps popping in my head from time to time. It's one of those things I've discussed with the shrink but he says I have been putting things I read into Linda's drawings and that I see what I see because I want to see it. Crazy, right? Not surprising though.

But I do. And even Henry does. I asked him to tell me what he saw in the drawings and I'm not insane, I see what he sees.

By the way, I finished the book. The writer has various adventures, like a big spy or something, and at the end, I mean in the last 10 pages, he dies. He's shot in the head by a drug dealer. Linda drew me in a pool of blood. I screamed at the girl and then she cried and then I fought with Susan. That was just some hours ago.

That's why I'm alone in my bedroom. Actually, alone in the house. Susan took the kids to her mother's house and told me to cool down for the night. She didn't seem angry but scared. She seems to think that a night away from them might do me some good but I believe she was scared I might hit her or the kids.

I went crazy. I yelled and hit myself on the head with my fists and punched the wall. My hand hurts as I write.

You know what's funny? My head started to hurt just after I saw the drawing Linda did for me. It's a piercing pain on the back of my head, just as if I had been hit with a blunt object.

I don't want to sleep. It's 3 AM but I don't dare to close my eyes. What if this all goes away too? What if I don't go back to being a writer but I just fade away into another life? I wouldn't be able to take it. I know I can't.

Please be with me. Help me. I'm scared.








*           *           *

The hallway is white. No other color on sight. A woman, rather short, enters a room. Inside an elderly woman cries next to the only bed in the room.

A young man lies there, with tubes coming from all places, breathing through a machine.

- The doctor is ready Mrs. Dominguez.

The elderly lady is squeezes one of the man's hands as a man in a white robe enters the room.

- Do you want to be present? - he says to the woman.

She nods. Tears keep pouring out of her eyes but she makes no noise.

The doctor and the nurse start pressing buttons, pulling out tubes until only one machine is attached to the man in the bed.

The elderly woman comes near and kisses the man on the forehead.

- Bye, Alex. Mama loves you.

The machine starts beeping and finally the sound of death engulfs the room.

martes, 2 de septiembre de 2014

Letter for me (Part 2)

Hello you,


or should I say "me"? This is getting weirder and weirder. Yesterday I couldn't keep writing because I had to sign loads of papers and then go home and be with the family.

Not my family but the family. I still don't get how this happened. I've tried going over and over it but I keep forgetting things. Had to read yesterday's letter in order to remember about the dog! Not that anyone cares... I have a cat now, Snow or something like that. He's always very creepy appearing in weird places and looking straight at me as if he knew something I don't.

The work is not that bad though. It appears I have been a pretty good accountant and my position here seems to be very well respected. Everyone greets me when I come in the morning and they wave at lunch time. There's even a young woman that flirted with me on the elevator, by showing a little too much cleavage and biting her lower lip. It's weird but I don't think our past self likes that.

That's something else I've forgotten: I have no idea if we had a girlfriend, a wife or if we just lived alone in an apartment. I don't feel like a party boy but not like a husband or father either.

Actually, that's one of the upsides of this "reality", if you will. Linda is the tiny one. She's actually seven years old, not six as I first thought. She's a sweetheart and up to this moment she has handed me at least ten drawings done specially for me. Yesterday night I told her a bedtime story and for a moment I didn't even care about all of this. She looked so peaceful and happy...

Henry is the name of our son. He's 11 and looks more like Susan (wife) than like us. The girl is more like us, so that's why I think I like her better. The boy likes sports a lot: he was playing football with friends when I got home yesterday and Susan told me he had judo practice today. He didn't get it from me though, not past or present. I remember, and feel, that we never liked any kind of physical exercise. Furthermore, I've looked through some photo albums (telling Susan I felt like reviewing the past) and saw that in this version of us we have no interest for sports either.

Actually that move was kinda dangerous. Susan, who is quite beautiful and sweet, wanted to have sex when seeing the pictures of the wedding. To be honest, I wanted to keep watching them as I had no recollection of that ever happening. The saddest part is that I didn't recognize who Susan called "your parents". Two nice people smiling me from a picture and I have no idea of who they are...

No, I didn't have sec with her. I told her I had to get some things ready for work and just sprung out of bed. I spent almost all night wandering around my office (a fucking office in the house!) thinking of the pictures and those memories that I don't have.

I have a theory now and I want to share it with you. I believe someone has to have our memories. Probably the man that lived here woke up in our old life. I can't stop but hating him but I guess that, if he exists, he's really not to blame.

Almost no sleep is giving me a headache but it was just impossible. I've gone all through the house, the details of this life and I have no recollection of anything. I just don't know any of these people. I don't even know if we lived in this city or this country for that matter. I'm trying to teach myself how to behave and breath because I may go insane. I feel it.

Maybe that's another explanation? What if this is all a reality I've created after having a seizure or a breakdown? I think it's possible although is not a really nice thought.

To be honest, I can't say I want to go back because I keep losing more and more of that life and keep feeling obliged to do my part here. Susan, Linda and Henry have no fault in this and I can't keep but thinking about their reaction if I told them about this.

Man, I know your are me. But this is the only way to keep me sane. At least until I start to get all of this, at least a bit more.

Well, time to go. Some big shot invited me to lunch and I had to say yes. I guess that's what this guy is all about.


Keep it real,

Alex.


P.S: Don't you think it's weird we are named Alex in both versions? That makes me crazy.

viernes, 29 de agosto de 2014

La casa de ladrillo

Ya estaba sentado en el sofá, sonriendo, viéndolos reír. Contaban sus historias uno a uno, dándose momentos para reflexionar, para preguntar, para reír de nuevo o para hacer silencio. Era como si lo hubiesen hecho así durante tanto tiempo que romper la rutina ya no era una posibilidad.

Me removía en mi asiento, algo incomodo por estar en un lugar en el que jamás había puesto un pie. Pero no solo era esta la razón, la verdad era que mi anfitrión, el dueño de la casa de ladrillo, era alguien que me inquietaba pero a la vez me llamaba la atención.

No recuerdo bien como ni donde nos conocimos. Lo único que sé es que ese día estaba allí, con su familia y con él, contando historias como si nos conociéramos de hace años.

Las pocas veces que me miraba, mientras su familia compartía otros recuerdos entre ellos, sentía que su mente se adentraba en mi, como si se tratara de un veneno. Su mirada no era verdaderamente aterradora pero si sobrecogía con facilidad, poniéndome la piel de gallina.

Estaban sus abuelos, sus padres, su hermana y los hijos de ella. Y yo. Y él.

La noche llegó a la casa de ladrillo y su madre y hermana habían preparado algo de comer. En todo ese tiempo me sentía como un fantasma. Ellos poco me miraban y muchos menos me hablaban. El único que me perforaba con la mirada, a ratos, era él, el dueño de la casa.

Ya tarde su familia se fue a dormir pero yo me había quedado en la sala de estar, sin nada que hacer. Como siempre en estos casos, no sabía muy bien que hacer ni adonde ir o, viendo el caso, si debería irme.

De pronto se me acercó, me tomó de la mano, y me llevó debajo de la casa. El sótano no era muy amplio y olía a humedad. Me haló ligeramente hacia a un lado y entonces lo vi.

Había un espacio en la pared. No era excavado como los de las películas de fugas sino un pasillo, de ladrillo como la casa, que llevaba hacia algún otro lado.

Sin decir nada, me soltó la mano y se adentró en el pasillo. Traté de seguirlo por el estrecho corredor pero apenas toqué la piedra roja, varios pensamientos atacaron mi mente. Pero no eran pensamientos míos.

Imágenes de mi anfitrión se mezclaban con escenas borrosas y oscuras de gritos y quejidos, gemidos y respiraciones aceleradas. No eran mis pensamientos, eran sus recuerdos.

Me dejé caer al piso y estiré la mano para alcanzarlo pero ya estaba muy lejos dentro del corredor y yo no podía moverme. Las imágenes me habían causado un gran dolor de cabeza y no había manera de detenerlo.

Sin querer me apoyé en el muro y, de nuevo, sus recuerdos atacaron mi mente. Esta vez vi sangre, sentí el dolor de sus víctimas y sus gritos me perforaban los tímpanos.

Me empecé a golpear con fuerza la cabeza, buscando expulsar las oscuras imágenes de mi mente. Pero solo logré hacer retumbar mi mente con los dolorosos sentimientos que no me dejaban.

De pronto, sentí como si un demonio se apoderara de mi. Seguí golpeándome para expulsarlo a él y a los sombríos productos de mi atormentado ser. Me golpee la cara, el pecho, el estomago y mi pelvis.

Caí al piso sangrando, y ahí, por fin, todo terminó. Al poco tiempo retomé mi vida, todavía sintiendo en mi al terrible hombre de la casa de ladrillo.