The Need To...

Ali was born when the Soviet union still existed and a wall divided the lives of the citizens of one same city. He was born into a struggling family, a group of people seeking to breakaway from what society had set for them.

But, as he grew up, strange things started happening. When a young kid at school, people teased him for no reason, mocked him for being the new kid or for peeing his pants as he was always afraid of everyone.

His family travelled, from one city to the other and that was fine for him. He didn't liked people very much, only his family, and it was best not to get so involved. In time, he made friends but the relationships were short. It was then when it happened.

His mother felt it first. When he touched her one day, she felt suddenly ill, trembling, feeling her knees caving to the weight of the body. It was strange but no one even thought the possibility of Ali being the problem.

That changed when it happened again and again and finally, with a schoolmate, in class. He touched his hand when handing off a pencil and then the kid collapsed and everyone saw how it happened.

Ali was tested in every way possible. He was only twelve years old, so he was confused and scared. The doctors, at first, didn't found anything. But a foreign specialist took an interest and ran tests himself.

Apparently, Ali had developed some sort of self defense mechanism: his skin would attack anyone touching the boy by inducing sickness. The doctor didn't know if the sickness was inside Ali or was created by his body. He requested further tests.

But Ali's parents said no. They didn't wanted him to become a freak. So they left that city and went back to where he was born. They thought it was the best place for him but, as it turns out, it was one of the worst decisions they could have made.

He went back to the place he dreaded, where he felt under judgement every single day. He grew solitary and isolated by his own will. His grades weren't very good either. He had no will to keep going.

But the family helped as much as they could and he accepted that help. Soon, they became inmune to his powers. But it wasn't the same with others so he kept to himself. In his last year in school he made some friends but he knew it was too late. He had no intention of keeping any memories of that place.

When he left, he went to college and study arts, as he felt his mind needed to open more, to learn more in order to be able to control his powers.

But, in time, he discovered that wasn't possible. He didn't have any control over it and when people got too close, the powers stepped in and drove them away. He made a few friends, real ones, and they learned about his condition and promised to keep distances, remaining friends.

Sometimes his powers rested, as with his family, and then he could be a little closer to friends.

The other issue, which wasn't a problem but a fact, was that Ali liked boys. As he was a boy, this may have added some difficulty to his life but, strangely enough, it never was. No one rejected him for it, maybe because the people he knew were a bit more liberal than most.

The real problem came every time he grew close to someone. His powers would turn off at first, even letting him have sex or kind of a relationship for a few weeks but it always ended up badly and then the guy would end up sick and Ali would run away.

It was worst when the people were actually bad, with awful intentions and using lies to get to him. They thought they were smarter, just brighter and his body knew they weren't. They just lied. And once, he had felt he was taking a life, or at least his powers did.

So when he got out of college, he decided to go away, to another country, by himself. There he would keep studying and be away from any distractions. To be honest, Ali didn't not believe in love anymore. For him, the concept was ridiculous as he had only seen people using others for their own wellbeing and not to give anything back.

Away, he was in peace. Of course there was always someone in the street that caught his attention or a strong need to hold someone. But that wasn't possible as he knew something would eventually go wrong, as his powers could go crazy and kill anyone. It had almost happened once and the feeling had been impossible to forget.

Ali lived alone, always refusing someone that would come too close. He had learned to be tough, to be nasty if needed. He didn't wanted anyone interested in him and viceversa.

He made some money writing, working in supermarkets, moaning lawns, walking dogs and as a waiter. He had found a small flat, with one room and one bathroom.

And that was Ali's life. As people always hurt and never wanted him but something else, he lived and died alone and no one ever knew how much he had wanted, needed, to hold someone else's hand.

Equilibrio

Sofya era la mejor en toda la competencia, de eso no había ninguna duda. En cada una de sus presentaciones se lucía con pasos cada vez más refinados, perfectos. Su cuerpo parecía hecho de plastilina o algún otro material maleable. Verla era increíble.

Su mayor seguidora era su madre. La niña había mostrado aptitudes desde pequeña y los profesores habían instruido a Katerina para que la niña aprendiera algún deporte donde pudiera sacar a la luz todo su potencial. Estuvo un año haciendo ballet pero la niña odiaba estar en grupos grandes, con otras niñas. Y Katerina detestaba sentarse con madres obsesionadas con sus sueños frustrados.

La niña se decidió entonces por la gimnasia rítmica, un deporte que podría practicar sola pero que pediría bastante de su cuerpo y de su disciplina. Pero así lo hizo, cumpliendo con todo lo que debía hacer. Sofya era dedicada y cuando entraba a competir, era como si no hubiera nada más en el mundo.

Su madre le preguntaba con frecuencia si estaba segura de que esto era lo que quería hacer y la pequeña siempre respondía que su sueño era estar en los Olímpicos. La madre estaba feliz pero puso reglas: no más de cierta cantidad de práctica a la semana y nada de competencias demasiado pesadas, al menos no hasta que fuera algo mayor.

Sofya resentía esta actitud de su madre, ya que ella creía que era un miedo de Katerina de ver a su hija fracasar o algo por el estilo. La verdad era que su madre quería que fuera una niña normal y disfrutara otros aspectos de la vida, no solo estar siempre metida en algún gimnasio o preocupada por su peso o aspecto.

Cuando podían, Katerina lleva a la niña con al centro comercial de compras, a jugar en el parque con su perrita Ariel o jugaban juegos de baile en la consola que tenían en casa. Todo para que Sofya no sintiera que debía hacer cosas sino que las hiciera cuando quisiera.

Pero el mundo de las competiciones lentamente fue tocando la mente de Sofya hasta que, a los dieciséis años, ya había desarrollado un serio problema sicológico. Nunca había sido de aquellas niñas con montones de amigas. De hecho Katerina no conocía ninguna amiguita de su hija, a parte de las chicas que iban al mismo gimnasio a entrenar.

Lo más grave era que Sofya había empezado a crecer y ahora se veía a si misma diferente. Veía a una chica con más busto y caderas y le era más difícil manejar su cuerpo en ciertas maniobras. Otras chicas seguían siendo delgadas y casi no tenían senos. Y eso le daba rabia.

Katerina se había dado cuenta un día, cuando había encontrado a su hija mirándose al espejo como si estuviera contemplando a alguien que nunca hubiera visto. Sin dudarlo, habló con ella y la relación que habían construido dio frutos cuando la niña le dijo exactamente que le molestaba.

La mujer le respondió que su cuerpo era más bello que el de las otras chicas y que tal vez ese era un nuevo reto para ella, manejar su cuerpo a través de los ejercicios más difíciles. Le propuso hablarlo con su entrenadora.

La mujer les dijo, sin pelos en la lengua, que todo era más fácil para una chica ligera, con menos carga. Pero que nada era imposible. Este era un deporte que solo se podía practicar hasta cierta edad, hasta que los huesos permitieran los difíciles giros y saltos.

Con la ayuda de Katerina, Sofya se sometió a una dieta para bajar de peso. Esto ayudó a hacer que la relación entre las dos fuera más estrecha y a que Sofya viera a su madre como quien era en realidad: una mujer dedicada a complacer a su hija, desde pequeña.

Ahora hablaban de chicos, del trabajo de Katerina en una inmobiliaria y de los entresijos de las competencias de gimnasia.

La joven, con permiso de su madre, empezó a practicar más seguido. Dejó a un lado sus estudios, habiendo prometido a su madre que sin importar el resultado, volvería al colegio apenas todo terminara.

Katerina ayudó a su hija con la música para su rutina y le aconsejó mezclar algunos pasos de baile moderno con los ejercicios. A la entrenadora y a su hija les encantó la idea.

Por fin llegó el día de la competencia nacional, que se llevaría a cabo en una ciudad costera. Katerina y su hija disfrutaron del hotel y de la playa antes del día de la competencia, prometiendo estar juntas pasara lo que pasara.

En la competencia, Sofya se lució ante los jueces, a quienes les encantó la música moderna y los pasos contemporáneos mezclados con rutinas de ejercicio complejas que Sofya pude ejecutar a la perfección, con disciplina y esfuerzo.

En la tabla general quedó tercera y eso la calificaba automáticamente para competir a nivel regional, con chicas de otros países del continente. Era un paso más hacia su sueño de llegar a las Olimpiadas.

Katerina la felicitó y le dijo que había tenido una idea: la ayudaría a estudiar bastante para poder graduarse lo más pronto posible, antes o después de las regionales. Creía que era básico estudiar y tener un respaldo.

Aunque en un principio Sofya se enojó ya que pensó que eso ponía a la luz cierta desconfianza de su madre, después entendió que ella solo quería lo mejor para su hija. Así que cuando la chica volvió a hablar con su madre, como siempre lo hacía, le dijo que quería estudiar arquitectura y que así su madre podría vender las casas que ella hiciera.

Esto alegró a Katerina, no por el hecho del trabajo y los estudios sino porque le hizo ver lo rápido que su hija había madurado. Estaba segura que Sofya sería una gran mujer en el futuro, capaz de tomar decisiones por su cuenta sin ayuda ni presiones de nadie. Sería una mujer libre y eso era lo que Katerina siempre había querido, tras sus muchos sacrificios y esfuerzos.

Keljbalāh

It was a small moon, orbiting a hot, unwelcoming planet. Keljbalāh was all green, spotted with blue lakes and small settlements all around. No more than one million Keljbalans lived on the small moon. They were mainly farmers and enjoyed a simple life. They worked only to feed themselves, each family receiving a crop. It wasn't a property as such. The whole moon was their property, of every Keljbalan. If someone had a bad crop, their neighbors would help them. No problem, no ulterior motives, no evil.

Keljbalans had light yellow skin, due their conception of "mush". Mush grew all over and could be cooked into hundreds of dishes, combined with fruits and vegetables grown on the dark side. Most people lived in the light side but they thought that, with basic technology, they could bring light to the dark side and so they did.

Keljbalāh was peaceful, never having wars of any kind. They did have disease but the species was intelligent and used their natural resources to take care of the sick. Poverty was unknown as well as richness. They were advanced but preferred to be at ease, enjoying their time alive.

One day, however, the moon witnessed a historic event: an eclipse. They didn't occur often but, when they did, every Keljbalan would look to the sky and thank the Sun for everything he allowed to exist.

The day of the eclipse many people gathered with their families, on fields, mountains and arounds lakes, to contemplate the all mighty sun. In a matter of minutes it turned black and many gasped and screamed and laughed. The moon was all dark for a time. People held hands and kissed and hugged. It was their most special event.

The the sun returned to its normal state. But something was wrong. Some of the Keljbalans interested in astronomy, where looking at the sun with telescopes. And what they saw when the planet left was very strange.

In a matter of minutes every person knew, as no secrets existed on the moon: a small object, apparently increasing size with the passing of minutes, was detected in front of the Sun. The object was not another planet as its shape was similar to the arrows some Keljbalans used to hunt flying animals when in the forests.

Now, every person had to go home. And they all thought about the same thing that night: what's the object? Other people? A small moon? Some kind of transport?

The answer came two weeks after the eclipse. The ship, almost exactly like an arrow, landed near the largest settlement. And did nothing for a whole day. People from every part of Keljbalāh came to see it. The hull was silver, a color not many Keljbalans had seen, only the miners. The apparatus had some windows around, but no one to be seen.

The following day, a big door no one had seen before, opened and a ramp was deployed. People that had stayed to see more of the sip, gather close but not too close. From inside the sip, two creatures stepped out. Different from Keljbalans, their skin was light blue and they were tall and with big eyes. Slids insted of a proper nose and three toes on each feet and three fingers on each hand. They wore capes, the same colors of the blueberries that grew by the lakes.

The creatures then bowed and it appeared it was hard for them. Not because they didn't want to but because of their large bodies.

  - We are Xysperians. We are explorers. We spent a day before coming out as we were learning your   language and your physical traits.

Everyone was a bit scared but mostly intrigued. The creatures seemed peaceful and decent. No one understood how they had learn to breath and speak in a day but more questions arose.

Some villagers took them to take a stroll around the fields and up to a hill from were the largest lake in Keljbalāh could be seen. They explained their history to the explorers and they just listened.

The following days, more Xysperians came out of the ship. They said they were from a planet with a dim red sun and that they had explored the galaxy looking for other life forms. They had thought, for a time, they were alone.

Keljbalans asked them about their planet, their traditions, their food. And Xysperians did the same. They shared meals, jokes, work and stories. And the two species rapidly became friends.

After on week, the Xysperians got back to their ship and stayed there for another whole day. They told the Keljbalans they had to meet and talk about some important issued and that they would now soon enough the results of their discussion.

Not just waiting this time, Keljbalans thought their new friends might leave soon. So every single Keljbalan came to the valley were the ship had landed and organized a feast, like no one had seen in years on the planet. They wanted to give the best to their friends.

The following day, Xysperians enjoyed the feast. The food was delicious, and it was accompanied with dances and tales and laughs. Everyone had a great time.

But when the food was almost disappeared, the visitors told their hosts they had important news to share with them: they had come to this system as they had detected life with their scientific knowledge. They had actually detected life in at least a hundred other places in the galaxy. But they had chosen to visit Keljbalāh as another discovery led them to.

An asteroid was coming and would hit Keljbalāh planet with strength. The Xysperians thought that event would finish life in the moon, rendering it barren, if not destroyed.

It was hard for the people of the moon to pass from great happiness to that hollow feeling you have after receiving terrible news. The Xysperians said they would share every piece of information with them as they revealed the reason why they had come to Keljbalāh: they wanted to save them.

So for the next ten years, Xysperians and Keljbalans worked together to build three massive ships and then they had a day called Koflar: the day of ripping. The day they had to leave the place that had given them everything. Every single one of them left something on the ground, a memory that would stay there forever.

They boarded their ships and the Xysperians led them to a new planet, a place where they would relocate close to their new friends, to built something even better for everyone. Due their extraction from their home world, all Keljbalans developed blue lines on their bodies, different from everyone. They said they were there to remember them of their origins.

Twenty years after, the asteroid hit the planet and debris hit Keljbalāh, transforming it into a ball of rock, with no life or heart. The planet, however, slowly became habitable and it appeared to be the new hope of this system.

La realidad del placer

El sexo siempre había sido bueno. No tenía como no serlo. Eran personas que disfrutaban del placer y sabían muy bien sus gustos. Así que por ese lado, parecía que no iban a haber problemas.

Pero Andrés quería más. O menos, dependiendo del punto de vista. La relación con David era buena pero basada en un gusto puramente carnal. Siempre que uno, casi siempre David, deseaba pasarla bien llamaba al otro y quedaban en alguno de sus hogares. Y así había sido durante el último año.

Esta vez no era diferente. Andrés estaba desnudo, orinando en el baño del apartamento de David, cuando se dio cuenta lo aburrido que estaba de toda la situación. Era una rutina incesante y ya tenía suficiente con la rutina del trabajo como para tener otra basada en el placer. Placer que, dicho sea de paso, ya no era igual que antes. Sí, lo pasaba bien. No podía decir que no. Pero la emoción, el sentimiento real, no estaban, si es que lo estuvieron alguna vez.

Andrés se cambió con rapidez y salió del apartamento tan rápido como pudo. Solo llevaba su celular, una tarjeta de transporte y un par de billetes enrollados. Esa era otra cosa que le molestaba: siempre tenía que salir a hurtadillas como si fuera un ladrón o algo peor. Nunca se había quedado para ver a David más despierto, mucho menos compartir algo más con él que el sexo. Era como un acuerdo tácito y hoy no era el día para romperlo.

Salió del edificio rápidamente, apenas mirando al portero, y salió a la luz azul de la mañana de un sábado bastante frío, al menos a esas horas de la mañana. Tenía hambre y por eso, en vez de encaminarse a la parada de bus más próxima, se fue caminando hasta una panadería.

En el camino, tiritando del frío, pensó en su situación sentimental: era inexistente. No era posible seguir acostándose con un tipo nada más porque se veía bien y se entendían en la cama. De hecho, estaba seguro que David tenía más amigos de ese estilo y que Andrés para él solo era carne, por feo que suene.

Un fuerte olor a pan recién salido del horno interrumpió los pensamientos de Andrés apenas entró a la panadería. Tantos olores deliciosos hicieron que su panza empezara a reclamar, con vehemencia, algo de comer y sus pensamientos sobre su vida amorosa desaparecieron por el momento.

Había algunas mesas pero ninguna estaba ocupada. Miró los estantes y demás mostradores: todo se veía delicioso.

 - Tenemos galletas también, con mermelada.

De atrás del mostrador apareció un joven, algo menor que él. Andrés sonrió sin pensarlo.

  - Gracias.
  - Que le gustaría?

El chico tomó una bolsa y la abrió rápidamente.

 - No voy a llevar. Voy a comer aquí.

El joven sonrió. Andrés se sintió sonrojar.

  - Quiero dos galletas de mermelada, un croissant de jamón y queso y... Tienen de tomar?
  - Sí. Café con leche, chocolate, café negro,...
  - Chocolate.
  - Se lo llevo a la mesa.

Y antes de que Andrés se volteara, el chico le guiñó el ojo. Si no estaba rojo antes, ahora sí que lo debía de estar.

Se sentó en la mesa más cercana y sacó los billetes que tenía. No era mucho pero seguro era suficiente para lo que iba a comer. Y como tenía su tarjeta de transporte podría llegar a casa rápido para descansar y, seguramente, seguir pensando.

El chico le trajo dos platos: uno con las galletas y otro con el croissant.

  - Recién salidos del horno. Voy por el chocolate.

Andrés asintió, sin mirarlo. El croissant estaba caliente todavía y sabía delicioso. Lo consumió completo antes de que el chico volviera con el chocolate.

  - Hambre?

Andrés sonrió. Y le contó que no comía desde el almuerzo de el día anterior. Fue así que el chico se sentó frente a él y le contó que había veces que él no comía por varias horas, a pesar de estar rodeado por comida. Era una regla no comer nada de lo que hacían.

  - Es tu negocio?

El chico rió y le explicó que era un negocio familiar. Andrés se disculpó por robarle su tiempo pero el joven le dijo que ya había puesto todo en su lugar y que era demasiado temprano para que llegara alguien. No era un barrio muy movido.

  - Vive cerca?
  - No, estaba... en casa de un amigo.

Y entonces sintió la urgencia de decir la verdad. Mucha gente decía que, a veces, es mejor hablar con un completo desconocido y no con alguien que ya sabe como eres. Andrés le contó todo, omitiendo algunos detalles, pero explicando cual era su dilema.

El chico no dijo nada durante todo el discurso. Solo levantó la cejas, frunció el ceño y asintió. Al terminar Andrés, se quedaron en silencio por un rato, que él aprovechó para comer una de las galletas con su chocolate. Entonces, el chico le dio su opinión.

  - Debería estar solo con gente que lo aprecie por quien es, tanto lo mental como lo físico. Si alguien solo quiere una parte del todo es que no quiere saber de la otra parte y eso está mal, creo yo.

Y el joven panadero tenía razón. Ese era el verdadero punto de todo este asunto.

Andrés le agradeció por su opinión y terminó su segunda galleta y su chocolate. Se despidió, no sin antes pedirle al joven el número de la panadería ya que le había encantado su desayuno. El chico le dio un papel con los números y la dirección. Se despidieron sin mayor consecuencia.

Ya en su casa, Andrés se recostó en la cama y se dio cuenta que el primer paso era suyo. Le escribió a David, diciendo que no podía seguir así y pidiendo no contactarlo más. La respuesta de David llegó luego pero Andrés la borró sin leerla. No había razón para hacerlo.

Había entendido que debía valorarse para que otros los hicieran. Y someterse a hacer algo que no le brindaba nada, era negarse el lugar que en verdad merecía. El placer no era algo malo. Al contrario. Pero compartirlo con alguien que no lo apreciaba era una pérdida de tiempo y energía.

Antes de quedar dormido en su cama, con la ropa puesta, recordó el delicioso oler del pan recién horneado y como deseaba cambiar su vida, a partir de ese día.

Dream Sequence

I run. Not really knowing where I'm going or why do I move so fast, faster than I would normally run.

Hundreds of houses built on cliffs, white as snows with small tile roofs above nice little balconies. And I run on them, on the tile roofs. They must have been built by someone very skilled as now tile moves. The problem is I slip sometimes and I realize what's there, beyond. Nothing. Big black nothing.

I stop for a moment and look in front of me. There, at the end of the tiled houses, there are platforms that move. They look like big wooden circles and they move as wheels inside a clock. And then, something even stranger. The clouds above the largest circle, which is covered in what appears to be moss, turn black and start spiraling down, forming some kind of tornado. It's colored black and green and seems beautiful and grim at the same time. I feel hopeless as I see it.

But then the sky appears to suck the tornado back in and everything goes back to normal, normal for this world I mean.

I look back. No one. But I feel followed, I feel that if I don't move the tiles may begin to move and collapse under my feet. And I know really well I don't want this to finish here.

I resume my running, from one roofs to the other, jumping over gaps between houses. When I do it, I watch down: a long fall and then, pitch black.

When I finally get to the first moving circle, I fall to my knees. It's not that my legs hurt, they don't. But it's rather the feeling of having no air to breathe. I feel like a bug on a jar. I instinctively gaze up, to the sky, but there's nothing. The clouds are cotton white and the sky blue, peaceful for now.

I get up and jump to the next platform. My foot has not touched down well and I fall, hitting the ground heavily. I feel hopeless again. With one look I confirm it: the tornado has formed again and, somehow, it looks more menacing now.

Once it goes back to the sky, I continue, this time analyzing every jump carefully as falling may be fatal. The fun thing is I know I'm dreaming. I know I cannot die. But the feeling is so strong, so powerful, that my breathing accelerates.

I get to the last platform, before the one covered in moss. I realize something: in the center of the circle there's a small sand pyramid. I know it's sand because the surface seems to move. Deep breath and jump onto the fluffy surface.

From there I can finally see my next destination: there are more moving platforms that descend slightly to a floating green valley. I have to pass by the pyramid the start my trek towards the valley but then everything turns black: the tornado descend on me. Hopeless, in pain, wanting to scream but can't. Those winds around me make me feel like killing myself but I cannot even move so I know the tornado wants only to torture me.

I hear voices and feel, in a few seconds, every major feeling I've had. My head is about to explode as I'm rendered useless and fall to the ground. From there, I see the pyramid being dissolved and sucked by the tornado. It seems to last for years.

I want to force myself to wake up but I can't. Is it really a dream? What is real? Stop it! I can't breath. I can feel death near...

And then it ends. The grains of sand that make up the pyramid slow fall into place again and the small structure rests there again, on the green carpet.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up and jump on to the next platform. Then I run, from one point to the other, like in a video game, as I did on the tiled roofs. I have to run away from that vacuum space. I do not want to feel like that ever again.

I finally get to a place of rectangular wooden platforms, all covered in grass. Strangely, this is the first place I see people. Although, when I come closer, I realize they are machines. They are dressed in old clothes, with big dresses for the ladies and top-hats for the gentlemen.

I wander around, fascinated by them. They walk around the platforms, as if chatting as they take a stroll on a european summer day. On the bigger platforms, there are black ponds. Realizing how thirsty I am, I kneel in front of one: it's not water but dark beer. It doesn't matter. I drink until I'm satisfied and then sit there, watching the holograms and robots walk about, ignoring my presence.

Then, I feel I have to go on. I look back: the tornado is forming. I get up and walk the other way, past a few more couples and then, at the bottom of the small green valley, there's a cave.

And something strange happens: I smile. Somehow, I know now everything is fine and that this is, in fact a dream. I look a this bizarre world one last time, before entering the cave.

I wake up confused, feeling I have been running a marathon. My legs actually hurt. For a second, I recall everything that happened on the dream, as I stand up to have breakfast.

- I have to written down. - I think, as I pour a lot of orange juice into a glass. After all, I've been running a lot.

Los Méndez

Era la escena típica de un asesinato, como en una novela de Agatha Christie: la hermosa Daniela Campuzano estaba muerta. Estaba tirada en el piso del recibidor y en la mesa de centro había una copa a medio terminar de champaña.

Todos se reunieron en el lugar y vieron el cuerpo. La voz se propagó rápidamente por la enorme finca, donde ahora se alojaban miembros de una familia que no tenía el mínimo deseo de verse.

Esto lo habían hecho como un gesto de buena voluntad hacia el abuelo Méndez, el patriarca de la familia. El pobre yacía en una cama, alimentándose de raciones pequeñas y con la restricción de no poder caminar sino media hora cada día. Sus riñones le pasaban cuenta de cobro y, sabiendo que no duraría demasiado, mandó a llamar a toda su familia para que estuviesen con él un último fin de semana.

Era casi increíble que la primera noche, el viernes, ya hubiera sucedido algo tan trágico como una muerte. Aunque no era tan extraño ya que no era una familia en la que el amor fuera primordial y la muerta era alguien que se había auto invitado. Eso no lo justificaba pero con gente tan dramática, era un inicio de puente festivo bastante predecible.

Entre los hombres llevaron el cuerpo de la mujer a la cama y llamaron a la policía. Un hombre gordo y su compañero vinieron con los paramédicos y revisaron el cuerpo: había sido envenenada con una sustancia desconocida. Habría que hacer exámenes. Se llevaron el cuerpo y los dejaron allí parados, en pijama y sin ganas de volver a dormir.

En la casa estaban las primas Paula y la prima Rosa, dos ancianas que vivían juntas porque nadie más las había querido. Después seguían Miguel, Melinda y Manuel. Sí, todos con M por un capricho de la difunta esposa del abuelo. Quería que todos sus hijos tuvieran nombres que empezaran por M.

Miguel estaba casado con Grecia, una mujer voluptuosa y con pocos modales pero bastante... personalidad. Melinda estaba casada con Tomás, un inútil. Y Manuel había venido desde España con su esposo Javier, quien le tenía un gran miedo a la oscuridad.

También estaba Miguelito, el hijo pequeño de Miguel, un huracán hecho niño. Sonia era hija de Melinda. Una niña tonta como ella sola. Tenía un hermano mayor, Franco, quien era el novio de la difunta Daniela.

El grupo lo cerraba el abuelo y, la más asustada de todas, Yerly, su enfermera. La mujer estaba muerta del susto y pensaba que sin duda ella sería la siguiente, por aquello de no ser de la familia.

El abuelo les propuso tomar un trago para así atraer el sueño. Todos se negaron. Se dio cuenta que la propuesta no era muy buena en vista de lo ocurrido, así que les ofreció a todos aguardiente de su gabinete personal. Los convenció de que nadie sabía de ese escondite, por lo que no había riesgo de veneno.

A regañadientes accedieron. Al fin y al cabo habían venido a ver al abuelo y se habían prometido a si mismos complacerlo hasta el martes en la mañana, día en que se devolvían a sus respectivas casas.

Dicho y hecho, durmieron como bebes hasta tarde el sábado. Sin embargo su sueño se vio interrumpido cuando oyeron los gritos de Yerly: Grecia y Miguel estaban muertos, flotando en la piscina. Los cuerpos estaban desnudos y había una botella de aguardiente en una mesa de plástico.

La policía, de nuevo, vino por los cuerpos.

- A este paso va a tocar poner un policía pa' que duerma acá.

Él rió pero el chiste no le hizo gracia a nadie más. Esta vez el muerto era un hermano y su esposa, no una niña que se había pegado a un paseo. El gordo oficial prometió también hacer pruebas, para determinar si también habían sido envenenados o si habían muerto ahogados por el trago.

Por extraño que parezca, a Miguelito parecía no hacerle falta ni su papá ni su mamá. Solo una vez preguntó por ellos a Sonia y ella, tonta como era, le había dicho que se habían ido al mercado. Miguelito no preguntó más y siguió disfrutando de la piscina.

Melinda y Manuel se sentían horrible. No lo compartían porque se detestaban pero les dolía la muerte de su hermano. El abuelo estaba igual que Miguelito, relajado aunque ya planeaba el funeral de su hijo. Habían venido a verlo morir a él y ahora el muerto era otro. Le hacía algo de gracia.

Cabe recordar que esta familia no era normal. Se soportaban, por mucho. El amor no existía y menos desde la muerte de la abuela.

El sábado fue de silencios, a excepción de Sonia y Miguelito que seguían tan despistados como siempre. Yerly se le pasaba llorando y el abuelo amenazó con despedirla si seguía con lo mismo.

Pero el domingo Yerly hizo las maletas y se fue para Istmina, su pueblo natal. Esta vez habían encontrado a Javier en el baño, pantalones abajo, muerto como tres más antes de él. Sobre el lavamanos, un frasco abierto de jarabe para la tos.

Ahora sí el abuelo estaba deprimido. No tanto por la muerte de Javier, que tenía a Manuel al borde del suicidio, sino porque Yerly se había ido. Había sido su amiga y acompañante y ahora ya no estaba. Se planteaba incluso ir a Istmina a buscarla pero en silla de ruedas eso parecía un imposible.

Viendo lo que pasaba, Melinda dijo que ella y sus hijos se irían al otro día, sin incluir a su esposo. Javier dijo que él no podía cambiar su pasaje y nadie sabía que hacer con Miguelito.

El abuelo dijo que pagaría por los funerales de todos y que serían enterrados en el pueblo, como el resto de la familia. Ellos no quisieron debatir este punto.

El lunes en la mañana fue Melinda, la quejumbrosa y snob, quien amaneciera muerta en su cama. La pobre había ido a tomar un vaso de agua antes de dormir, que había sido su último.

Tomás estaba feliz y sus intentos en ocultarlo eran penosos. Tomó a Sonia, quien jugaba en el jardín, y a Franco, que parecía muerto en vida. Dejaron el pueblo y no volvieron nunca a ver al abuelo.

Se quedaron entonces solos Javier y el abuelo, recibiendo a la policía una vez más. Lo extraño fue que todo lo ocurrido tuvo algo bueno: Javier no había hablado con su padre en años y aprovecharon la ocasión para curar viejas heridas y perdonar lo dicho.

El martes Javier dejó la casa también y entonces el abuelo quedó solo para recibir a la policía.

 - Solo en casa?

 - Nueva enfermera.

Una mujer alta y más parecida a un hombre que a una mujer, más que todo por la sombra del bigote.

 - Buenas... Señor, tenemos los resultados de las autopsias.

Fueron a un estudio y allí el policía le contó al abuelo que todos habían sido muerto por el veneno de una extraña rana amarilla que había migrado de los bosques lluviosos a esta zona. Eso sí, todavía no se explicaban como había llegado el liquido a la copa de champagne, la botella de aguardiente, el jarabe para la tos y el vaso de agua.

El policía se fue y el abuelo pidió a su enfermera que lo dejara solo. Allí, junto a los matorrales, lloró en privado la muerte de sus hijos y lloró también por su pronta muerte.

De repente, detuvo el llanto al darse cuenta de algo: en una planta cercana había una pequeña rana amarilla, quieta, como observando. Y por ese mismo lado del jardín era que Sonia había jugado todos los días, hablando con las matas.

Pero el abuelo nunca concluyó nada porque al ver la rana, murió.

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.

Modelo a seguir

Era increíble que tuviera miles y miles de fotos guardadas en su computador. Estaba seguro que había limpiado su disco duro recientemente pero aparentemente ese no era el caso. Había fotografías de hacía pocos días, muchas desenfocadas, o mal tomadas o con errores tontos.

Carpetas y carpetas marcadas solo con la fecha y se supone que tenía que encontrar una sola, la que la modelo quería para presentarla ante un agencia. La mujer era insoportable pero le había hecho tantos favores a Luis, que hubiera sido una vergüenza no ayudarle.

El fotógrafo de unos 35 años buscó y buscó. No fue fácil porque ese mismo día había visto por lo menos a seis modelos, así que había seis carpetas, cada una llena de fotos. Y tenía que revisarlas todas porque cabía la posibilidad de que la foto deseada estuviera mal ubicada.

Al abrir la cuarta carpeta, después de revisar sin éxito otras tres, se pegó un autentico susto. Eran las fotos de un joven modelo que, según Luis recordaba, estaba empezando en el mundo de las pasarelas y publicidades y quería fotos donde se pudiera notar su rango.

El joven era bastante guapo y era un modelo nato, no había nada que se le pudiese criticar. A excepción de lo que encontró Luis en la carpeta: varias fotos del modelo desnudo, en posiciones bastante sugerentes y provocadoras.

Luis no podía negar que se veía igual de bien sin ropa que con ella, pero se preguntaba en que momento habían sido tomadas las fotos. Obviamente no había sido él y se supone que su asistente revisaba las tomas cuando las pasaba al disco duro.

Tomó su celular y llamó a Vanessa, su asistente. La joven parecía estar en un lugar con mucha ruido ya que Luis tuvo que retirar el celular de su oído. Como pudo, le preguntó sobre si recordaba al modelo y si había visto las fotos de ese día.

La memoria de Luis era un desastre: resulta que ese día ella había tenido que irse temprano, así que él mismo había pasado las fotos. Ella preguntó el porque de la llamada pero Luis prefirió no elaborar mucho sobre el tema y colgó pronto.

Recostándose en su silla, Luis se esforzó por recordar. No, no se acordaba de haber pasado él mismo las fotos. Seguramente lo hizo automáticamente y ni se fijó. De lo que sí se acordó fue de que había tenido que salir por unos minutos del estudio y había dejado solo al joven, por unos diez minutos máximo. Al parecer el chico había tomado ese momento para tomarse las fotos.

No eran más de 10 fotografías y, por los datos de fecha y hora, habían sido tomadas en un corto lapso de tiempo.

En todo caso, Luis no se explicaba porque el modelo había decidido tomarse esas fotos y dejarlas allí guardadas. Era obvio que quería que alguien las viera. Vanessa no había estado ese día, entonces no eran para sus ojos. Eran para los de Luis, obvio.

Había otra cosa, algo más extraño que las fotos, si es que puede decirse. Luis recordaba, y viendo las fotos también, que cuando el chico había entrado se le había hecho conocido. Esto era extraño porque él no recordaba conocer a un joven como ese. Era la primera vez que lo veía, y no había manera de haberlo visto antes en algún evento ya que el mismo joven había dejado claro que no había participado en desfiles ni ninguno de los eventos a los que Luis iba como invitado.

De pronto se dio cuenta de algo: en una de las fotos, el joven sostenía un papel. Por la luz lo escrito era apenas visible pero, con su habilidad con varios programas, Luis pudo mejorar la imagen al punto de hacer más visibles los números que estaban escritos en el papel. Era un número de celular.

Sin dudarlo, Luis marcó el número y esperó. Los nervios eran bastantes, y él no entendía porque.

 - Aló? - dijo él cuando contestaron.

La voz del otro lado rió.

 - Pensé que nunca me ibas a llamar.
 - Apenas hoy supe tu numero. Porque me lo dejaste?

El joven dudó en hablar por un segundo pero entonces preguntó:

 - No te acuerdas de mí?

Luis, por raro que parezca, sentía algo extraño y no le gustaba.

 - No.
 - Llámame cuando lo recuerdes.

Y el joven colgó. Y esa acción hizo que Luis recordara: la voz, la cara familiar, las fotos. Todo cuadraba.

El recuerdo que vino a su mente era de un día de lluvia, durante sus años de trabajo en empresas. De eso hacía casi siete años. Ese día estaba en cama pero no solo sino con un joven que había conocido en un concierto. Tenía apenas 18 años y soñaba con ser un gran cineasta.

Luis recordó que hablaron de la fotografía. Discutieron porque el chico pensaba que los modelos eran una herramienta para manipular a la gente y Luis decía que no había nada más hermoso que un modelo masculino.

Se vieron por varios meses, durante los cuales discutieron bastante sobre sus diferentes visiones de la moda y de la belleza. Hasta que un día el chico desapareció. Luis entonces tendría una relación de varios años con una fotógrafa y no se acordaría más del joven.

Lo llamó después de tomar un café. Pero el chico ya no contestó. Luis intentó al menos una vez cada día por varios días pero nunca pasó nada.

Solo un día, meses después, Luis recibió por correo una revista que no había pedido. Era un catalogo de ropa de lujo y el modelo era el chico de las fotos. Aquel que él había rechazado, que solo había sido un compañero sexual para él, no más que alguien con quien tomar, fumar y, más que todo, solo tener sexo.

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.

Día D

Había alistado todo hasta el último detalle. El día anterior había pasado por el supermercado para preparar los ingredientes de su comida favorita: la lasagna de vegetales. Había salido un poco caro, al comprar solo productos de primera calidad, pero bien valía la pena.

Cuando Roberto llegó a su hogar ese día, empezó a planear todo como si se tratase del recibimiento de una reina o de un jefe de estado: tenía el menú listo con 3 platos suculentos y un vino excelente, tenía lista la nueva ropa que se había comprado antes de ir al supermercado y solo faltaba hacer el aseo general de su hogar.

La tarde del viernes, apenas llegó del trabajo, se dedicó a limpiar el polvo, barrer el piso, trapearlo, limpiar los baños y las ventanas, cambiar la ropa de cama, pulir con esmero cada utensilio de la cocina y sacudir los tapetes por el balcón.

También echó a lavar ropa y reorganizó un poco el lugar, para hacer de todo el momento algo placentero.

La hora de llegada de su novia al aeropuerto se la había aprendido de memoria: las 6 de la tarde. Era perfecto ya que pasarían 30 minutos desde su salida de los filtros de seguridad hasta que llegase a su apartamento. Había contratado un servicio especial para que la recogiera y así no pensara en irse a su casa ni nada por el estilo.

Hacía un año que no se veían ya que ella había tomado un curso de coreano y había encontrado una oportunidad laboral en Seúl que no podía rechazar. El contrato era por un año pero si les gustaba su desempeño le renovarían su estadía. Y Roberto estaba listo para ello: había ahorrado bastante para poder irse a vivir con ella. Siendo arquitecto, sabía que no habría problema en conseguir trabajo en ese país y con su buen nivel de inglés sobreviviría mientras estudiaba el idioma local.

Sí, Roberto estaba profundamente enamorado de su novia. La había conocido en la universidad y desde el primer momento la había adorado. Desde entonces habían pasado cuatro años y él seguía igual de enamorado que siempre.

Esta reunión se le había ocurrido desde el mismo día en que se había despedido de ella en el aeropuerto. Incluso les había comentado su plan a los padres de ella y ellos, felices, habían estado de acuerdo. Todavía más cuando él les había confesado que tenía en mente pedirle a su hija que se casara con él.

El anillo lo había comprado hacía un mes, cuando se había decidido a hacerlo. Le había costado varios meses de paga pero él ya no se fijaba en precios ni en lo que le costaba conseguir o comprar algo. Todo lo hacía por el amor que le tenía a su novia, a su futura mujer. No había nada que no hiciese por ella.

El día en que ella llegaba, Roberto se despertó temprano y salió a trotar una hora: todo este año se había esforzado en hacer ejercicio. Nunca le había disgustado su panza y amaba la comida pero ella había sugerido que entrara en un gimnasio con ella y él creía que eso le alegraría mucho, cuando lo viera y notara los varios kilos que había perdido.

Después de ejercitarse, Roberto limpió un poco más todo su apartamento. No se bañó sino hasta tarde para estar impecable cuando ella llegase. La lasaña estuvo lista pronto, así como un delicioso volcán de chocolate y una ensalada con nueces y frutas exóticas. Todo lo probó y certificó que fuera perfecto. Puso a enfriar en hielo el vino francés que había comprado, alistó la mesa con copas, platos, cubiertos y servilletas. El toque final eran dos velas que emanarían un delicioso olor dulce que sabía que a ella le gustaría: adoraba su perfume con olor a fresas.

Hacia las cinco de la tarde por fin se duchó, usando un jabón liquido del cual detestaba el olor pero como había sido un regalo de su novia, prefirió usarlo para complacerla. Se vistió con unos boxers que alguna vez ella le había regalado y con su ropa nueva que estaba simplemente impecable. Se afeitó con cuidado y se peinó lo mejor que pudo.

Y entonces esperó. Casi dos horas porque estuvo listo muy pronto y el avión ni siquiera había llegado cuando él se sentó a esperar.

Pasadas las siete de la noche, sonó el citófono en su apartamento: era ella. Hizo los últimos arreglos, más que todo salidos del nerviosismo, y entonces timbraron.

Cuando abrió su amor pareció crecer. La hizo entrar, preguntó porque no tenía su equipaje pero no esperó por la respuesta. La abrazó y la besó y le dijo lo feliz que estaba de verla. Tomó su abrigo y la hizo sentar a la mesa.

Pero ella no parecía igual de contenta. Él sirvió la ensalada y puso un plato en cada puesto. Le dijo que la amaba y que esperaba que fueran muchos años más juntos.

Ella respondió poniéndose de pie y pidiendo que la escuchara, que la dejara hablar. Parecía enojada aunque Roberto pensó que era por lo largo del viaje.

 - Hice todo esto para ti.
 - No quiero esto. Lo siento.
 - Estás cansada? Mi cama tiene nuevas sabanas. Son de...
 - Eso no importa. Me escuchas, por favor?

Él asintió y entonces ella se soltó diciendo que apenas había llegado a Seúl había conocido a un joven empresario y que desde entonces había estado con él, como su novia y que planeaba casarse con él apenas ganaran más dinero. Dijo que había vuelto para contarle a sus padres y para invitarlos a conocer Corea y a su novio.

Roberto no entendía. No podía hablar pero su cara lo decía todo.

Ella siguió: le dijo que ya no lo quería desde antes de irse pero que no había tenido el valor para dejarlo con el corazón roto. Se había dado cuenta que hubiera podido ser mejor si lo hubiera hecho pero que solo había aceptado que el servicio especial la trajera allí para hacerlo de una vez.

Por fin, Roberto dijo algo: Porqué?

Ella le respondió que había dejado de quererlo porque el parecía estar enamorado del amor y no de ella. Necesitaba alguien que se impusiera, que peleara con ella, no alguien que aceptara todo y se quedara callado. Necesitaba que su vida fuera entretenida, diferente y Roberto no era alguien que le brindase eso. Incluso dijo que el último año juntos había sido aburrido y que no había dicho nada porque sabía que lo dejaría pronto.

Y tan rápido como llegó se fue, sin decir nada más. Y allí quedó Roberto, destrozado y siendo menos de lo que había sido siempre, ya que tontamente le había dado todo de sí a alguien y no se había quedado con nada para sí mismo.

A Royal Lady

Lavinia had been in the Montgraneux palace for only two months. On her first week she married the duke and her mother assured her it was the best choice she could've had for a husband.

The duke of Halesworth was one of those bachelors that every girls wanted to marry: he was rich do to his business as a country man and as a politician, he had participated in battles abroad and, most important, he was an elegant, gracious man.

To Lavinia, looks weren't that important. From the moment she realized she had come to the world only to get married and be someone's something, she had decided not to mind too much about looks. She wanted someone who she can talk to at nights, share silly facts about life and live a peaceful life, with children as her mother intended.

She was presented to the duke in a party nothing to fancy, and the man liked her for her wit and tenderness. Within the next month, the wedding was arranged as well as her moving from her parents house.

Montgraneaux was majestic. It had a french name as the duke's grandparent had built it for his spouse, a french lady. The palace was a two story building, filled with beautiful objects from around the world. Lavinia specially liked the ballroom, which had plenty of mirrors and the nicest view towards the gardens.

The wedding, of course, was magnificent. Every single person that counted was there. Even an envoy from her majesty attended. Lavinia was so happy and proud to be marrying such a respectable person. She never thought she would enjoy marrying but that day she was all joy and fun and her mother even asked her if she felt fine. She answered: "Mama, I love my new life".

So from that day onward she lived on Montgraneaux.
However, things changed fast and not as she would have liked to. The duke was rarely at home, even to work, so she would only see him on weekends when they walked the gardens and shared quiet meals.

Lavinia didn't wanted too much of life so she was sad to see her low expectations were not being filled. The change became apparent from day one, or night one to be precise. She had never had sex but somehow she felt the duke just rushed the moment, which she didn't enjoy very much.

The young woman passed the time checking on the house, visiting new acquaintances and having her mother in for tea. Not much could be done.

Every time she had a chance to be with the duke, she reminded him of her ambition to have a house full of children. His response was always something like nodding or anything of the sorts. He didn't seemed interested in it.
She even tried seducing him at nights but that proved to be a failure too: he would leave to room arguing she was being "strange" or he would have some minutes of sex with her, as if just to please her.

Days and days alone, left her plenty of time to know every single corner of the house, which was pretty large. She would enjoy helping the gardeners, although it was not very lady like for him to be doing such chores. Anyway she did it, as she didn't care who would say what. She was a disgraced woman as far as she was concerned, so she didn't mind the opinion of others.

Winter changed things, again. The duke couldn't travel as much as he used to so he stayed in more but in his office. She would try to help him with things or take some tea for him but it didn't seem to do anything for the marriage.

One night, she discovered that the ballroom was closed, all doors locked with key. Curious, she went outside to look in, but found our all the curtains were down and nothing could be seeing. Only a dim light.

This happened at least once a week. Strangely, it coincided with multiple visits from statesmen, military officers and local authorities. They would always come right at lunch time and leave after dinner. This would annoy Lavinia every time, as she had to listen to endless stupid war stories or about shortages of wheat or some other kind of nourishment. She would always try to eat fast and argue she was exhausted to be excused.

Snow came in february and she would spend many hours making castles in it or playing by herself, She would remember her young years, when she was a lonely girl too. She wanted a child so bad, to take care of and to be with.

Exploring the palace had proven useful as, one day, she found at that one of the rooms in the second floor, mainly used by as a reading parlor, had a small compartment on one of the walls. When you opened it, you would enter a small space were an adult person could stand comfortably. Most curious, at the height of the eyes, there was a sliding plaque, in order to watch people below, in the ballroom.

She used it only once when the duke celebrated a Christmas party for every single noble man and lady in the region. Lots of people came and, at one point, Lavinia disappeared to watch everything from her private "booth": the view was amazing, felt like being a bird. She thought the person that made it should have being very suspicious of his guests.

One night, in which the duke had once again left the bed to sleep in some other room, Lavinia decided to go to the kitchen and have some warm milk. It had always helped her to sleep and she was having an awful time trying to sleep, as her thoughts of feeling alone, as well as her mother's insistence on the subject of children, were revolving on her mind.

She got her milk and was going back to bed when she came to one of the ballroom's doors. Strangely, she could see a under the door, as if fire had been lit inside. She had the urge to scream but realized this was the perfect time to use her secret "booth".

She silently climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered the reading parlor. She left the glass of milk on a table and opened her private space. When she lifted the sliding panel, her eyes had to close for a minute as the light was to bright.

Indeed, it was fire light, coming from the hearth on one side of the room. She couldn't see anything else except a table and... Clothing, on the ground. Her breathing accelerated when she understood it all: her husband suddenly got up from the floor, naked. He then laid on the edge of the table and that's when Lavinia saw it: one of the many military men that had come for supper penetrated her husband and he, the duke, seemed to enjoy it.

She close the panel and wanted to cry but didn't. She breathed heavily but calmed herself down, stood up and drank her milk. She was in that room for hours, gazing at the compartment from which she had seen it all.

No one never knew how or why but Lavinia suddenly became a leader in the region, touring towns and cities, helping those in need. She taken an interest in doing charity and people praised for that and for being an amazing hostess.

The height of it all was the birth of her daughter Anne. And it all happened due to her wit and strength, as she blackmailed her husband and let him do as he may as along as he kept his side of their agreement.

When he died, years later, in a skirmish in a colony far away, she received condolences from everyone. But she didn't mind. Her life expectations were fulfilled and more was yet to come.

Mount Athos

My name is John Tiberius Johnson. I was born in Exeter (England) and from a young age, I've loved to explore: I had a tree house built by my own hands, I had small canoe in which I explore calm rivers and their banks and I always had the company of Akakios, my labrador.

Thanks to my parents and my persistence, I went on to study anthropology and archaeology. I love ancient civilizations as well as contemporary ones, just watching how people have had different solutions for the same problem and even the same solutions, being separated by thousands of kilometers.

Working for the British Museum, a dream of mine that was fulfilled by a "enlightened" thesis on the customs of the North American peoples, I got to travel a lot, all around the globe.
I saw the Great Wall of China, the pyramids in Egypt, the massive forests of Indonesia, the majestic Machu Picchu and so many more.

But this time I want to tell you about a small part of the world. Many, won't even know it exists. It is called Mount Athos.

Resting on one of the "fingers" of the Chakidiki peninsula, Mount Athos is a strange place. First of all, it's an autonomous region from the rest of Greece. They have a different way of doing things there.

Second, the place is filled with monasteries, all around the peninsula. Beautiful forests unite the sites.

Third, one must get a special permit to enter Mount Athos. It is called a diamonētērion. And, most curious, only men are allowed there.

Preparing for my journey, I travelled to Thessaloniki and applied for my permit, which would allow me to stay and the Megisti Lavra monastery for as a week.

I decided to walk all around the city, waiting for the permit. On one of those outings, around an open market, a strange gypsy woman almost threw herself and me and asked to read my hand. I refused but she insisted and I was bored so I complied. After paying her 5 euros, she grabbed my hand and told me I should avoid facing God soon, as death was near.

A bit annoyed, I went on with my walking. Coincidence or not, a old man looked at me with crazy eyes and spoke fast and loud in greek. Being rusty in the language I could only understand two words: "avoid" and "danger".

Looking to forget all about these weird encounters I went to my hotel and had a nice calm dinner.

After a week of my request, they called me to say the permit had been approved. So I went to pick up the strange sheet. There, I was told to travel to Ierissos, where I would board a ferry to Mount Athos.

I have to say the boat ride was even better than I imagined: the view was not to be missed. Mount Athos, the actual mountain, looked massive but calm and peaceful from the boat. I was traveling with two others: Alex, a photographer for National Geographic and Cedric, a french travel journalist.

When we got to the dock, a small wooden structure on a rocky beach, we were received by a lonely young monk who told us to follow him. It was short walk to Megisti Lavra, as the place rests just above a cliff overlooking the Aegean Sea.

We were shown our bedrooms and the bathroom we would share and told us we could only remain on the monastery or inside its boundaries. Alex then intervened, saying he had been authorized to go hiking, in order to take pictures from the mount. The young monk asked him for his permit, read it for himself in whole and then gave it back. He bowed and then left them in their rooms.

Day one, I went to the main temple and asked to see the manuscripts. They were held in a small library, feeling a bit uneasy as a monk was asked to guard my stay in the room.
I was baffled by the writings, and then by codices. They were a treasure I had wanted to see for long. I took notes for work as well as some photographies, although my guard didn't seem to like that.

Then, a scream. A truly awful, heartbreaking scream. I carefully put away the codex that I was making notes about and went out the main courtyard with my guard. He then indicated me to go to the monasteries main entrance. The place was beautiful, adorned with olive trees and small hedges.

Then, we saw: Alex was running towards the gate. The monks let him in and he fainted in front of me.
Hours later he woke up and told us he had seeing a body laying in the road to the mountain. A group of monks left to check it out. When they left he told me that the man he saw did not have a face, crushed by rocks or something. He was trembling so I accompanied him until Cedric came back from the a stroll down the shore.

Then the leader of the congregation came and asked us to remain in our chambers for the day as something had occurred. Then Alex asked for the body and the man told us that it appeared to be an assassination. They had even found a big rock tainted with blood.

During the next few days, I had to accompany Alex, with two monk guards, to take his pictures. We ascended part of Mount Athos and, although astonished by the beauty of the place, my mind was still wondering about the killing.

So it was a surprise when we came back to the monastery and they told us we were going to stay under lock and something had, once again, occurred. 

They had arranged a large room with three beds for all of us and the leader of the monks came again. It had happened they had found another body, this time on the water, just floating by the monastery. They had voted to enclose us for our safety and because we were considered suspects.

 - We were on the Mount!
 - Mr. Cedric wasn't...
 - I was walking with one of your guards!

But then the monk pulled out something from his pocket. Kept in a white cloth, he showed us an object and I recognized the knife immediately: it had been a gift by the director of a museum I had been to in China. A dagger made in times of the Tang dinasty. The only difference was that this dagger was tainted in blood.

And blood was the thing that drained out from my face, as I realized I was trapped here, no way to get out.

Planeta Azul

Bianca metió un recipiente en el extraño liquido fucsia. Tenía una consistencia parecida a la gelatina pero algo más liquida. Dejó el recipiente sobre una roca cubierta de musgo azul y espero. No parecía suceder nada.

 - El liquido es seguro.

Dijo dentro de su casco. Se incorporó como pudo y miró hacia atrás. Sus dos compañeros estaban tomando fotografías del lugar. Era algo difícil hacer cualquier cosa con los trajes puestos pero era mejor que arriesgarse a contaminar el lugar o a morir por falta de oxigeno.

 - Niveles de oxigeno? - pregunta Clark, uno de sus compañeros.
 - Muy bajos.

Eso ya lo sabían, pero seguro era una pregunta rutinaria y ella no iba a ponerse a pelear por algo tan tonto. Estaba muy ocupada siendo asombrada por el sitio en el que estaban: de un lado, en una pequeña colina, crecía musgo azul por todos lados y sobresalían del piso plantas parecidas a nuestras flores pero con colores más opacos. Por un lado de la colina pasaba el riachuelo de "gelatina" fucsia que iba a dar a una planicie seca a apenas unos 200 metros de la colina. Parecía ser una pequeña isla de vida.

 - Gama, que dice el espectrómetro?

Gama era la nave, orbitando sobre sus cabezas, donde estaba el resto de la tripulación de este primer viaje al planeta Cronos.

Se le había llamado así porque los científicos habían estado de acuerdo que solo era cuestión de tiempo para descubrir un planeta con potencial para ser habitado. Y siendo Cronos la representación clásica del tiempo, era apenas apropiado.

 - Detectamos islas de vida un poco por todos lados. Parece que el proceso es reciente.

Bianca no podía evitar sonreír. Parecía que habían encontrado lo que por tanto tiempo habían buscado.

Cronos no era el primer exoplaneta descubierto. Muchos habían sido hallados un poco por todos lados hacía casi un siglo. Lo que era especial en este lugar era el enorme potencial que parecía mostrar para sostener la vida. Más concretamente, para que en un futuro pudiésemos llamarlo "hogar".

 - Gama, estamos listos para volver.
 - Entendido. Estaremos al tanto.

Bianca se acercó entonces a sus compañeros, Alynna y Marcos, y tras una discusión corta, empezaron a caminar los pasos que los separaban de una pequeña nave que parecía un antiguo planeador. Esa pequeña nave, hecha de un material resistente pero ligero, los llevaría de vuelta a Gama.

Mientras tomaban altura, Bianca no podía evitar mirar por la ventana la pequeña isla de vida que habían encontrado. Con ella llevaba el cuenco de "agua" extraterrestre para ser analizada en Gama.

Había trabajado tanto por este logro que parecía estar viviendo un sueño. En el pasado la gente no entendía la importancia del ecosistema, de tener un planeta seguro y habitable. Esto había causado que la contaminación, la sobrepoblación y la sobreexplotación acabaran por empujarnos al borde de la extinción.
Ya habían habido varias hambrunas, graves desastres naturales y las guerras, como era de esperar, seguían apareciendo, incluso en aquellos lugares que alguna vez se habían vanagloriado de sus logros democráticos.

Afortunadamente, se habían tomado medidas para buscar otro sitio, otro planeta al que la Humanidad pudiera migrar para evitar su desaparición. Obviamente, no todos podrían emigrar. La idea no era dejar la Tierra sino crear una red de "hogares", cada uno con vida sustentable.

Guardando el recipiente en el laboratorio y luego quitándose su traje espacial, Bianca recordaba como había sido elegida por ser joven y talentosa y sin dudar había tomado la decisión de hacer este viaje de años para dar una esperanza a los millones que esperaban en casa.

 - Exploradores, los esperamos en la sala de reuniones. - dijo la voz del capitán por los altavoces.

Se reunieron los siete miembros de la tripulación alrededor de una gran mesa redonda, en un cuarto igual de circular con excelente iluminación. Todos llevaban ropa más cómoda ya y se sentaban en sus lugares, esperando al capitán.

El hombre ya tenía unos 60 años y muchos decían que había tomado el trabajo porque le había tomado un odio especial a la Tierra. Se decía que sufría varios problemas de salud y el espacio haría que sus últimos años fueran menos insoportables. Y sí, él planeaba morir allá afuera.

 - Amigos, es hora de la reunión del día. Doctora Fellini, por favor.

Bianca se puso de pie y empezó a hacer un pequeño resumen de lo encontrado: el "agua" gelatinosa, el musgo azul y las islas de vida que formaban.

 - Vida animal?
 - No pudimos apreciar ninguna aunque no la descartaría.

El capitán asentía. Parecía serio.

 - Señor Tempelhof, que nos dice del planeta en sí.
 - Niveles de oxigeno bajos. Topografía abrupta en algunas regiones. No encontré toxicidad extrema aunque sí hay bolsas de metano en cierta áreas.

Otra vez asentía, sin mirar a su interlocutor.

 - Señora White, estado de Gea.
 - Estamos haciendo los últimos ajustes para tenerla a punto en unas horas. Estoy segura que trabajará a toda potencia si la dejamos hacer su trabajo.

Esta vez, el capitán sí miró a la señora White.

 - Cree que es factible la terraformación del planeta?
 - Es un proceso largo. Y la máquina no podrá hacerlo todo. Habrá que construir granjas e ir poco a poco.
 - Pero es factible?
 - Sí, señor.

El silencio era absoluto. El capitán lucía preocupado. Todos esperaban verlo algo alegre por haber llegado a destino a salvo.

 - Tengo una mala noticia, queridos amigos.

Todos se removieron en sus asientos, nerviosos.

 - Recibí un mensaje encriptado de la Tierra. Nos piden volver de inmediato.

La noticia cayó como un balde de agua fría. Todos empezaron a discutir y pelear pero el capitán los calló con un golpe a la mesa.

 - Señores! Eso no es todo... La razón es que ha habido un ataque nuclear y ya hay movilizaciones de tropas. No parece que haya salida.

Nadie decía nada. Todos pensaban en sus seres queridos, en lo que habrían de estar viviendo. También pensaban que no tenía sentido volver a una zona de guerra, aún menos siendo un viaje de años.

Todos estaban sumidos en sus pensamientos cuando la alarma de la computadora empezó a retumbar por todas partes. El capitán se puso de pie de golpe y se acercó a una consola cercana. En la pantalla aparecía una zona del planeta en rojo, titilando.

 - Dejaron algo abajo?
 - No, señor.
 - Entonces que es eso.

Algunos se acercaron a la consola pero Bianca prefirió ver por una de las ventanillas. Lo que vio la asustó terriblemente y no se desmayó de milagro.

Una mancha oscura parecía crecer sobre la superficie del planeta. No era rápida pero se notaba su crecimiento con facilidad. No, no era color negro. Era azul.

 - Según las instrumentos, es... es vegetal.

Una simple bacteria, en un traje mal esterilizado, había hecho que el musgo azul creciera de un modo casi violento, abarcando más territorio del que tenía antes.

 - Señor... - dijo un hombre de baja estatura, con orejas puntiagudas.

El capitán se le acercó.

 - Que pasa Perkins?

El hombre pasó saliva y se aclaró la garganta.

- La sonda detecta una subida en los niveles de oxigeno.

El capitán no lo podía creer. Ninguno lo podía creer.

- Y señor,...
- Que?
- Se detectan formas de vida. Parecen salir del interior del planeta.

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.

Solo

Que pereza da levantarse. No quiero... La cama está calientita y huele muy rico. Es como tener un nido especial para mi solo y no pretendo compartirlo con nadie nunca. Sonrío al pensarlo pero esto hace que se me abran los ojos y note que ya es de día. De hecho, parece ser mediodía.

Con cara de aburrido, pongo los dos pies en el suelo y me limpio un poco la cara, tratando de quitarme los últimos trazos de sueño que tengo en el cuerpo. Estiro los brazos y me pongo de pie.

Como siempre, bajo a la cocina y me sirvo algo de jugo de naranja. Miro hacia la sala de estar y veo que no hay nadie. Olvidé ver si mamá ya está despierta. Debe estar cansada después del día de ayer...
Saco algo de pan de la alacena y me hago un sándwich con jamón y queso.

Lo llevo todo a la sala y enciendo el televisor pero el aparato no capta ninguna señal. Deben ser esos idiotas del servicio de televisión que a cada rato estropean la señal, disque arreglando redes y cosas de esas.

Apago el aparato y como mi desayuno en silencio. Mi madre todavía no baja de su cuarto y estoy aburrido. Subo a mi cuarto, después de lavar la loza, y abro el computador portátil. El aparato no recibe señal de internet y decido apagarlo antes de gastar la batería.

No es tan poco común que no funcione ni el internet ni la televisión. Cojo el teléfono de mi cuarto y confirmo que tampoco funciona. Siendo la misma empresa la encargada de proveer todos esos servicios, ya ha pasado en varias ocasiones que todo se daña y hay que esperar varios días para que se restablezca el servicio.

Salgo de mi cuarto y decido bañarme. Al menos el agua parece funcionar correctamente pero no así el calentador. Como el clima no es tan frío como otros días, me ducho rápidamente con agua bastante fría. Esto me ayuda a despertar aún más y a empezar a planear el día.

Mi padre y mis hermanos deben estar en sus trabajos. Yo, como independiente, no tengo que ir a ninguna parte y por eso comparto mis días con mamá. Eso hasta que tenga algo de dinero pero eso todavía parece estar lejos de ocurrir.

Pensando en mamá, le hago un sándwich igual al mío y le sirvo jugo. Se lo subo al cuarto, ya que no tiene sentido bajar a mirar un aparato inerte.

Cuando llego a su cuarto me encuentro con la sorpresa de ver la cama tendida y el cuarto completamente vacío. No se está bañando ni cambiando. Bajo con la comida y me dedico a revisar toda la casa: no hay nadie. Estoy solo.

Esto ya es extraño: mi madre nunca sale por las mañanas y menos sin avisar. Trato de recordar si ha mencionado alguna cita médica o algo por el estilo pero no puedo recordar que haya mencionado nada parecido.

Mi teléfono celular tampoco sirve correctamente y esto ya me pone nervioso: esa señal nada tiene que ver con las demás. Se habrá ido la luz en todo el país, o algo por el estilo? Lo mejor es averiguar más.

Me pongo una chaqueta, cojo las llaves de la casa y salgo a la calle, a ver si en algún lado puedo averiguar algo.

Todo parece un cuento de terror: en la avenida frente a la casa, normalmente con un alto tráfico de vehículos, no hay nada. Solo, a lo lejos, veo un automóvil parqueado en el carril central pero no parece que haya nadie adentro.

Camino a las tiendas cercanas y casi todas están cerradas y las que no lo están, están desiertas. No parece haber un ser humano en ningún lado.

Esta vez casi troto para cruzar algunas cuadras y llegar a una gran manzana de edificios de oficinas, normalmente atestados de gente a estas horas, yendo y viniendo de almorzar. Pero ahora no hay nadie. De hecho, parece que ni siquiera funciona la electricidad. Hay algo de basura por todas partes pero parece ser traída por el viento y no por ningún ser humano.

Me siento a descansar ya que el trote me ha dejado sin aliento. Que es lo que pasa? Donde están todos? Que pasó?

Lo único que se me ocurre es revisar donde puede estar mi familia. Cerca hay un pequeño automóvil azul. Veo por la ventana que tiene las llaves puestas. Sin contemplaciones, rompo el vidrio con el codo y entro al coche. Es una situación de emergencia y no creo que nadie me culpe por hacer esto y muchos menos sin tener licencia para conducir.

Como puedo, llego al trabajo de mi hermana y luego al colegio de mi hermano. Ambos lugares están desiertos. Decido dejar para lo último la oficina de mi padre, ubicada en el centro. Allí cerca está la sede del gobierno y si alguien sabe algo seguro estará allí.

Dejo el automóvil en la plaza principal, luego de meterme por un par de calles peatonales y de golpear un conjunto de botes de basura. Como esperaba, tampoco hay nadie en este lugar. En todo el edificio donde trabaja mi padre no hay un alma y los papeles vuelan un poco por todos lados, ya libres.

No hay nada más que hacer. Me subo por las rejas del palacio presidencial y, para mi sorpresa, no suena ninguna alarma ni pasa nada. Camino como puedo hasta la puerta principal, abierta de par en par y empiezo a imaginarme donde podría esconderse la gente de haber sido un evento catastrófico. Seguramente, bajo tierra.

Ya había estado en el edificio cuando pequeño, en una de esas salidas escolares, y nos habían contado que existía un bunker para eventos como explosiones nucleares o ataques terroristas. Tratando de recordar en donde me habían mencionado esto, camino por todos lados sin tener éxito.

De repente, eso ya no importa. El cielo se ha oscurecido y parece como si la noche hubiese llegado de golpe. Miro por una de las ventanas de un largo pasillo decorado con viejas pinturas y afuera, en el cielo, veo algo que me quita las fuerzas, casi al instante.

La nube que ha oscurecido todo no es natural: es roja, del color de la sangre. Y de ella, parece salir algo o alguien.
De golpe, me empieza a sangrar la nariz y me siento algo débil, por lo que me dejo caer arrodillado.

Lo último que recuerdo es un horrible sonido, fuerte y agudo, que me arrulla hasta dormirme.

The Real Mrs. Humphries

Helena Humphries lived with her dog Alan and her crow Lena. They had been together for several years and weren't planning to separate any time soon. Her husband Harvey had died five years ago and both animals were greta companions for an elderly lady like Helena.

For years, she had taken care of a small shop, located just below her apartment. The place had been the property of Harvey's family but they all died out fast and he was the last one. So he gave the shop to Helena in his will.

To be honest, she had not been very happy when she realized she had to take care of business. She was 74 years old and planned to live the rest of her days in peace and tranquility. The shop was too much to do, too much to pay attention to. She had always thought the place was perfect for her husband, an innate businessman. But she didn't have it in her.

They had met in high school and from then on she was only a wife. They never had children and, to be honest again, she didn't resent it. She thought children should only come to the world if they were "looked for" and if they were guaranteed love.

Helena had suffered from depression when she was younger and Harvey had taken care of her with love and friendship. For that, she had always been thankful and decided to be the best wife she could and she had been: beautiful cakes every birthday, delicious dinners after a hard day at work and kisses and hugs in bed.

Harvey had died a happy old man. He was 80 and died from a heart attack, a disease that plagued his family, made mainly of larger people.

So Helena had to take the shop in her hands. She sold everything: groceries, candy and even hardware.

One day, a particular windy one, a woman called Virginia entered the store. She browse around but didn't appear to be really interested in anything. Helena had recognized her: people of the neighborhood said she was a prostitute and that she had a son out of one of her clients.

 - Might I help you?

Virginia looked at Helena and started crying. The older woman didn't know what to do, so she grabbed some hankies, the one she sold, and gave them to the woman. She cleaned her face, tainted by ruined make up, and blew her nose.

Helena asked if she was fine and the woman started her story: it was true. She was a prostitute as she had been laid off from her job at a brewery and she found herself with no husband and a child. But the child was not a consequence of her new work, more like the cause of it. She did it for him, so he could have food and a better life.
But she was tired of her living and wanted to stop. But her procurer forced her to keep doing it and she didn't wanted to.

At the edge of tears, Helena told her no woman should be forced to do nothing, as her Harvey had said. He had always encouraged Helena to be more than his wife but she had settled in it so well, she didn't wanted to pursue dreams that may not come true.

 - Work here. I have an extra room for you and the baby. Turn your life around.

This had two purposes: help Virginia and also separate herself from the store so she could have some peaceful elderly years.

The younger woman moved in with her son and life was good and quiet for a week or so until a man named Gregory came into the store, with a body guard as big as Mrs. Humphries wardrobe. They started pushing things to the floor and insulting Virginia for failing to do her job. She asked for forgiveness and told Gregory she would pay any debts. The big man grabbed her by an arm and almost broke it.

Suddenly a loud bang was heard. No one really knew what it was until Gregory fell dead on the floor. Mrs. Humphries had come down from her apartment, where she was taking a nap next to Virginia's baby, with her rifle.

It has to be said that Harvey had always been cautious and didn't trust the authorities too much, as his younger brother had been drafted illegally by military men and then died in a faraway land. So when he married Helena, he taught her how to shoot and use all kinds of guns. On saturdays, they would share an evening at the shooting range and then have milkshakes for desert. Helena had always loved those days as she felt strong and with purpose.

The tall big man dropped Virginia and attempted to leave but Mrs. Humphries shot again, this time pointing at his knee. The man screamed of pain.
In a matter of minutes, the police was there, picking up the bodies and summoned the women for interrogation. As it was self defense during property invasion, they let them go.

From then on Mrs. Humphries took care of Virginia as if she was a daughter and Virginia learned to think of the older lady as a mother. She proposed Helena to close the store for remodeling in order to turn it into a nice little café, which could attract more clients. Virginia was skilled at baking and pastries and had always wanted to do it for a living.

The new café was a success. Every person in town wanted to have one of Virginia's pastries for dessert. Helena helped too and, finally, gave in to her Harvey's wish of her becoming more than a wife. She became a proper owner, a good hostess and a great surrogate mother for Virginia and her baby.

They had difficulties and great moments but they were together, as a family, and that was all that mattered.