The end of childhood

I was ten when I first noticed Mary Martin, a glance on the street on a warm, sun-drenched day. Mary was on a bycicle, wheeling round and round and her skirt rode up and I tried to see her knickers. A sudden, mad attraction, and I could not take my eyes off her. It was love at first sight I would say. After that summer afternoon, I didn´t see her around my neighbourhood any more until the day school classes began.
It was the beginning of the term and I felt pleased when I realized that Mary Martin was in my class. The idea of seeing her every single day filled my heart with joy. To everybody´s surprise, I was eager to go to school. I did my homework in due time, I spent hours reading books and I looked for information when it was required. In fact, I did everything a good student would do. I really wanted to catch Mary´s attention. Since I had once heard my older sister telling her friends that women loved guys to be gentlemen I thought that behaving like one of them would impress her. That´s why, every day I would secretly cut a flower from my neighbour´s garden and give it to her.
Day by day I felt I was closer to Mary. Even though she was all the time surrounded by my classmates, she made me feel I was her favourite guy. It was like a competition: she was so kind and beautiful that being “the favourite” was a prize. My love for her was so huge that it wasn´t enough for me to stay with her only at school. Actually, I needed to spend more hours at her side. Since I couldn´t bear that situation any longer, one ordinary afternoon I put myself together and decided, before returning home, to declare my love to her. Mary was the last in leaving school, so I remained at the entrance door with her until the moment the rest of the students would go, and we could be alone.
But it was when Mary and I were finally alone that my dreams dissolved. We were talking non-stop when, all of a sudden, a tall, well-built man in his early thirties appeared and without hesitation gave Mary a passionate kiss. I couldn´t believe my eyes! Mary Martin, my beloved teacher had a boyfriend. It was at that moment that I realised Mary and I belonged to different worlds: she was an adult and I was a child. Seeing her with another man was so heart-breaking that I burst into tears and, bowing my head, I got off to my house. I was terribly sad, not only because my first love had broken my heart but also because I had realised I was facing my first problem, and that meant I was growing up. My childhood was coming to an end and sooner, than I had expected, I would become an adult.

True Love

Reality TV

It was a hot Sunday afternoon and there were two men in an ABC channel office. The situation was pretty tense. An uncomfortable silence was swooping around. The new year was drawing near and the ABC had not got yet a new TV programme to compete with its rival, the NBC network. The president suddenly said ‘I’m going to have “true love” and you’re going to help me’. Smith stood perplex at that proposal. ‘True love’ was a new reality show to find a match that had been quite a success in Britain, but the English network had refused to sell it. By no means was the BBC going to give away their precious possession. And that precious possession was what the ABC needed to lead the competition ratings. The president’s eyes glittered; but Smith thought that it would not be possible, unless they paid a load of money – money they did not have. Besides he knew that if he could not convince the BBC executives and bring “True love” with him he would lose his job.

Insecure about his success, Smith went to the airport to catch a flight to England. At his arrival he felt his blood thicken, his body became heavier and heavier; he was seeing double and blurred. There was nothing more stressful than, being so high above Earth, so far from the ground where he felt safe. He had tried everything: hypnosis, pills, therapy groups and nothing had worked; it was looking through a video camera that made him feel a kind of relief. Looking at the world through an LCD screen seemed more like TV than reality, and that soothed him. He was still attending the therapy group, though, where he showed what he had filmed in his flights so the other members would get used to flying watching video tapes. He hesitated. He was in front of the airport entrance. One step behind hell. He turned on the camera and started to record. He moved on, sweating fear and horror; and in he checked in and boarded the plane. He sat motionless, still clutching the camera. He breathed nervously. The plane started to move, it was gaining speed. He clutched to the seat, closed his eyes and waited.

The plane shook. His heart nearly stopped. He peeped through the camera; the plane was neither on the ground not in the air. Deaf and blinded by panic, he did not hear the other passengers’ yells. The plane was slowly sinking in the middle of the Ocean.

Everyone around him was desperate. Mass hysteria was taking over children and women, youths and grown-ups. Nobody could escape the panic. Meanwhile Smith was lay fainted on the seat with the camera still recording.

When he came round he was in a hospital bed with the camera at one side and the ABC president at the other. He said ‘Maybe you didn’t get me “True love” but the thing you have in that camera of yours will really make our ratings explode.

Letras y plabras rojas, ver comentario.

La noche que me quieras

I can’t stand it anymore. I’m not the one to blame for her faults… for her inefficiency. It was all planned; every detail, every single thing. I was going to do my part; she was going to do hers. I did mine and hers.

I’m not complaining, tough. It is a pleasure to do it… you scarcely find yourself digging a hole to throw a corpse in. Cold sweat runs through your forehead, you wipe it off, you feel the power. That is the way God must feel. At the edge… Your senses alert. Adrenalin in every single part of your body. Speed. Flashes of light and fire mixed with a glacial shiver…

It was a dark night, a dark cold night. One of those nights you’d rather stay at home. The blowing wind made me shiver. I was wishing Natalie was there to do her job. But it was me. Just me and my soul freezing… in that dark cold night with a shovel in hand. The ground was hard too, rocklike almost. Me and my soul in that dark cold night with a shovel in hand and a corpse at my feet. Mr Robinson used to be called. Now it is nothing. Nobody would ever reclaim his parts. Never wanted, never loved, and about to be thrown in a filthy pit.

I don’t usually deal with the burial. Natalie should have been there in that dark cold night with the shovel in hand and the corpse at her feet. But it is no time to blame. Imprisoned you have no right to complain. It is always the other’s fault.

However, Natalie will suffer. Once I get out of here, she’ll pay me. She’ll suffer. Her kids: that was her answer to my “where are you that you are not burying Mr R?” HER KIDS! As if they were not mine too.

That dark cold night, I had to bury it. If she had done it before with Mr R’s brothers, why can’t I? I prepared myself. I took a shovel and started to dig. Three hours later I stopped. I grab the corpse. It was not heavy, being 6 years old Mr Robinson did not weight too much. I threw it in. Red and blue flashes showed guilty in my face. You could tell I was doing something wrong, out of place.

— You are under arrest for the murder of your son, Thomas Robinson.

My Failure Exam

When Chappel woke at 5 the next morning, after a series of dreams, the scenes of which were laid mainly in the Artic Regions, he first sneezed, then piled upon the bed everything he could find, including his boots, and went to sleep again. It was such a freezing nicht that it made him remember the trip he made to the North Pole. As soon as he got out of bed, he fell asleep and began to dream again.
He was travelling on a ship called Water Monster from Scottland to Canada. The ship was empty, or at least it was what Chappel thought when he fot out of bed at eight on the moning. He made this assumption because no sound could be heard from his bedroom. As he knew this was uncommon, he ran to the main deck to check what had happened. He was right to think the ship was empty due to the fact that the liferafts were missing. He knew now that the crew had fled from the ship, so he had to find out why. As soon as he entered the control room he discovered the reason. The rudder* had been broken. Looking at the compass he saw that the ship was heading north, towards the North Pole. He tried desperately to change directions or, at least, turn the engines off, but it was useless. Seeing that it was futile to try to repair those instruments, he ran to his room and wore as many clothes as he could. Now that he had more protection against the cold he ran back to the main deck to see if there were any liferaft left. On his way to the main deck, he heard the sound that made any sailor panic, the sound of the ship creashing against something. When he got out he saw it, the North Pole was the something the ship had crashed against. Chappel turned and saw that, somehow, the Water Monster was trapped in the ice. He was alone in a ship in the middle of the North Pole and he had no chance of surviving there.
For the second time in the night, he woke up. He found himself crying this time. Hans, his brother, didn't seem to have realized that Chappel had a nightmare. Cold Nights like that one always made Chappel remember his dreadful trip to the North Pole. He got out of bed, went to the window and stared at the snow falling. "I hate snow" he said as he went back to bed again.

Guillermytho

*Originally: the wheel that is used to control the ship's direction.

THE SHADOW

THE SHADOW

This is not a story like those re-read ones in which there’s a handsome night or a gorgeous princess, or even a happy ever after. In fact, this is a not known among the most readable stories reality. Thus, some people may presuppose that it has a kind of mean argument and outcome as well.

You know that the bases are those having an introduction, a following plot or complication and the outcome, which its characters usually gain the best counterpart of them. As I’ve said before, this is not similar by any instance as the ones described above.

What’s more, yes, there’s an single character and a plot, but the particular interesting feature here is that there’s no introduction, meaning beginning, and we cannot state the ending as well.

We can take a shadow as the main actor, representing someone we know or imagine. This shadow is going to develop her reflection in life for good of bad, depending the environment in which she is going to be brought up. As well, she is going to incorporate knowledge from her context and this knowledge will determine her path throughout the society. We have to make a pause here, because the impact of society on the shadow will be of a mayor importance as, sometimes, we my have a clear idea in mind of some theme, nevertheless, society can change this view within seconds.

So, that is how the shadow is going to be brought up, developed, will take up the necessary information for her needs in life, and then make her own decisions, having in mind the impact in the society in which she constitutes herself a minimum link.

We of course, may presuppose that WE can be the shadow ourselves……and then the question arises……. Are we the kind of shadow we want to be???…. Or some other shadow that has been modelled society like????…………..

By Alvaro

Creatures

Once upon a time, in a country full of dragons, magic and fantasy, there was a beggar. He lured the streets of a noisy city, under the rule of Prince Charming. The prince was known to hate beggars because he said that, having beggars in his country meant thieves and poverty, and his was a kingdom to be thought of as perfect. So the Prince Charming used his servant Grog, a mountain troll, to eliminate the beggars.
The method was simple, if someone was seen begging in the streets he was taken to the arena and fought Grog (having little hope of surviving). Now, our beggar, called Hans, had been in his youth an extraordinary bowman. He had fought side by side with the king himself in long past wars. But that had been a long time before. Even though he was old now, he was as healthy as a teenager. However strong, though, he was no match for a mountain troll. You need powerful magic to pierce a troll's hardened skin. So Hans, seeing that he had little hope of fleeing the destiny of many beggars fled from the city into the wood (you know that there is an enchanted wood in all fairy story).
While he walked into the wood, he thought of a way to kill the troll or, something much harder, convince Prince Charming not to kill any more people, because, believe it or not, beggars are people. If only his old comrades, Desiree the sage and Henry the warrior, were with him they could have killed Grog easily, but they died protecting the king from a red dragon. Dragons! That was the answer, he could persuade a dragon to kill the mountain troll. They hate each other. So Hans took his old bow and went to a blue dragon's cave. There he presented himself as one of Prince Charming ambassadors and offered the dragon to come to the city as a guest. The dragons are very suspicious of people and didn't believe Hans because of his beggar's robe. Hans told the blue dragon that the Prince didn't want the dragon to feel diminished by the splendour of his servant’s clothes, so the servant was sent with the simplest he could find. Hans must have been really persuading because the dragon seemed to believe it, or it may have thought he was been mocked by the Prince, because he followed Hans to the city.
The People were startled to see Hans the beggar being followed by the mighty blue dragon. The prince had sent a detachment of soldiers to meet them. Hans, when he saw the soldiers coming, told the dragon that he was to be tested to see if he was to deserve the honour of meeting the prince. By the time the soldiers arrived Hans had explained the dragon the task, kill a mountain troll. Hatred could be seen in the dragon's eyes. He had been deceived twice now. Hans told the soldiers that they were ready to meet the troll, so, silently, the group of soldiers took them both to the arena.
The fight was about to start. The arena was full of people today. It seems that beggar murder didn't catch the interest of people as much as this monster’s fight. The troll was released. His little head was the size of his fist, or even smaller. The greyish colour gave the impression of rotten. His teeth were, however, the most remarkable thing of it. They were like daggers, except for the fangs, which were more like short swords. The troll seemed to have been prepared for the battle, because it had been given armour, a giant hammer and a round shield. The dragon was something impressive to look at too. Now that it was ready for the battle, its scales were shining with a strong blue, like the ocean. Its white teeth seemed so sharp that they could probably tear anything into pieces. The only thing in common was the hatred they had for each other.
The troll raises his grotesque arm wielding the hammer with such dexterity that only the dragon wasn’t surprised. Never before was Grog seen moving so fast. However, fast the troll was, the dragon was faster. It may be because blue dragons were wingless, but they are the fiercest creature to be fought in land. The first strike Grog made missed, but the second hit the dragon hard in the head. This is the time to act, thought Hans while sending an arrow directly into the toll's eye. This gave the dragon time to recover and deal a critical bite on the troll arm, tearing it apart. Now the troll was at disadvantage. If Grog realized it, they never knew because he kept on fighting as if nothing had happened. The hammer, an extension of Grog's powerful arm, broke one of the dragon’s leg and then the other. The hit the troll had made on the dragon's head was bleeding badly now, and the dragon was about to faint. Grog was also bleeding badly, through the hole where his left arm had been.
Both creatures were on their knees, trembling. It was a matter of dealing the final blow. Grog raised his arm at the same time the dragon opened his mouth.
The smell of burnt meat was smelt for years on the arena. The dragon died by releasing all the heat from his body. Hans, who was inside the arena at the time of the fight died too at the time of the dragon's last attack. The Prince thought better this time, and instead of bringing a giant troll to kill the beggars, he decided to bring a dragon!

Guillermytho

Run!

Run away is all I seem to do. I feel that it's following me again. If this goes on I'll go mad. I would like to sit down and cry, but if I do sit down and cry it'll catch me. That would be terrible, I don't know for sure but I've got the feeling that it is that way. If only I had somewhere else to run to. Anywhere. But it is my house that I'm being hunted in. The creature, I call it creature because I've seen it but I don't know exactly what it is. It looks like one of those monsters taken from a horror film. A dark skin that looks like an armour. It seems to me like an alien warrior. He does have a weapon, like some metal claws, though he doesn’t wear a shield. His movement is slow, resembling that of some spiders. Slow but unstoppable.
No one seems to be around, and if they were they wouldn’t hear my screams, because I can’t emit a sound. It's silent panic the one I've got. I go up the stairs and when I get to the top of them the creature is at the very bottom. I go into the terrace and when I go down to the park I turn to see it going down the same stairs I just walk out of. I run, close doors, go up and down stairs but the creature is always following me. And to make it more despairing I can't make my foots move out of the circle I'm doing. Up the stairs, into the house, out into the terrace, down another stair, through the garden into the street, and finally back into the stairs leading to the house.
When I think I've lost it, I fall!!! I was so desperate I didn't notice the fallen chair. Or there was no chair before and somehow the creature put it in my path. I must stand up, is all I can think about while I see the creature coming, slowly, as if it knew that I lost this race, that there is no escape.
As the creature moves closer I start to crawl; my legs don't move, as if I don't have any legs at all. I crawl at the same speed as the creature, or at least it is what I think, until I feel its claw grab my legs and... I wake up. I hate this nightmare.

Guillermytho

Wrong Wish

He couldn’t stop to think now. The time had come for him to make up his mind. "Do you want to live or not?" was all he said to himself before the people started shouting and running forward. He wished he hadn't decided to travel north at all. He was scared to death.
The previous month, January, he thought he would follow his stepmother’s counsel and do some travelling to know the world. He was given money so he could buy some food and stay at an inn during the night. An old sword was also given to him in order to defend himself from bandits and wild animals. That, he thought, was nonsense. Being the son of a poor farmer never had he the opportunity to handle a sword, forget the idea of fighting with it. But he knew that arguing about the sword would be futile.
During his first week he had to fight his way out of the forest. Grizzly bears were not that ferocious as people usually said, he thought after killing on of those animals. The same night he fought the bear he encountered some travellers, like him. They seemed to be better prepared for fighting, though. Their leader, Hans, was an expert bowman who seemed to be escorted by some knights. -Come and join us- they said, after he told the anecdote of the grizzly bear. -Gladly. There’s no purpose in continuing this pilgrimage- was all he answered, longing to use the sword one more time, now against something more challenging than a bear.
The weeks passed not so peacefully until the group came to a huge camp. Hans was no common bowmen after all but the commander of a foreign country's army. All of a sudden he learnt he had been involved in a fight that was not his. Hans had offered him to join them so he could fight for Hans and his country. By the warning look on some officers' faces, he could not reject this invitation. The first battle, which was against the barbarians from the west, was fought and lost. He avoided this fighting by helping with the supplies. Before the battle, when the things were organized for the coming skirmish he felt suddenly paralysed. Imagining the enemy kill him in so many ways made him tremble. Someone might have noticed it because he was given permission to assist with the supplies, arrows and healing the wounded. But so many soldiers fell in battle that no one was excused from the next encounter, unless they were already crippled. -They’re damn brave, they are, these beast men- he heard a legless soldier say. "Beast men". Curious. They were called that way because of the wolf or bear hide they use as battle regalia. -Axes seem to be their only weapon- the soldier continued - not only they use them for melee combat but also throw them like arrows-. The thought of those axe-thrower beast men gave him creeps. Werewolves were much more than what he could take. He realized now that his ambitious desire of using his sword against something more challenging than an old grizzly bear was a terrible mistake. When he was thinking of running away he was told that those who tried to escape were executed; so he thought better and decided to die in battle, like the brave warrior he was not.
- This time, we will summit them to our emperor's orders- Hans speech began, as the armies moved to their position in the battlefield. -We're outnumbered by three to one- he heard a soldier say. Out of the blue, thousands of arrows soared through the air while the armies started to advance.
He couldn’t stop to think now. The time had come for him to make up his mind. "Do you want to live or not?" was all he said to himself before the people started shouting and running forward. He wished he hadn't decided to travel north at all. He was scared to death.
Petrified as he was, he didn't see the axe coming. The choice had been made for him.

Guillermytho

Practise

That morning I was inspired. I'll write the story now, I thought. In the way to the kitchen I turned the computer on, so I could check the mails while I made breakfast. By the time I sat at the computer my inspiration had already left me. Anyway, I had to practise for my English exam so better doing it now. "This, he felt, was a crisis. He had been pursuing his career so long that he had never quite realized that a time might come when the authorities would drop on him." was the bit of a text used for the previous exam, so I had decided to practice with it. I began typing:
"He became a scientist because of his desire to discover cures for illnesses. Even though he had made some minor discoveries, his true objective was cancer, he wanted to be able to cure cancer. This probable was because his mother had suffered it in his youth. Nobody could have guessed that that path he followed would lead him to discover a new virus. The virus was strong, dangerous and easy to control and develop. When he published in one of those scientific magazines about his research on the virus, an agency of the government became very interested on it. When they suggested affording his research in exchange for some practical use of the virus, that is, chemical weapons, he refused. From then on, he started receiving phone calls during the night, mostly threats. Wisely he decided to go on the run with his virus the day before his laboratory was broke into by some "burglars". He knew he had little chance of defeating the government, but he didn't quit his run. If only the virus were not vital for his research on the cure for cancer, he would have destroyed it long time ago. This, he felt, was a crisis. He had been pursuing his career so long that he had never quite realized that a time might come when the authorities would drop on him. He was caught and imprisoned, you can't run from the authorities without going to jail, but the virus was never found. In the end he died a curios death, due to an unknown disease."
I must admit I hate the story, it's really hard to make up a good plot for that piece of text, I said to myself. I should have used a different career or a less abrupt ending. I know that this won't pass the exam, but at least it's practice. I got up from the computer and went to the kitchen to have breakfast. Next time it’ll be better I hoped as I started reading the paper.

Guillermytho

.The sheriff.

Unfortunately, I was born in a huge and noisy city where robberies and traffic jams were increasing. Being fifty years old, I was not able to tolerate that. As I had no family, some years before I found a new job in a remote town near the shore as a teacher in a secondary school and decided to give myself a break from that tiring life.
When I arrived at my new house, everybody in the town gave me a warm welcome. People from the neighbouring houses came to my place and offered their help. I really appreciated their hospitality. However, I preferred being alone at home reading my books and listening to my compact disks of Celtic music.
What I really enjoyed, was the company of a neighbour called Jim, who became a very good friend. He was the former sheriff of the town, but by that time he was retired. He was a widow and his two children, who had their own families at that moment, forgot what this good man had done for them in life. Jim and I were two solitary men and for that reason, we decided to meet at tea time every day to listen to some music and comment on the novel we were reading during that week.
On Saturdays, there was not meeting because Jim went fishing. Obviously, he shared the same hobby with others. Jim loved doing so, which was an activity I never was keen on. But one day, he invited me to go with him and I couldn’t refuse it.
That day we got up very early and at four o’clock in the morning we were prepared for an adventurous trip, or at least that was what I thought. We were four in total: the priest of our town called George, a fifteen-year-old student, Jim and I. All of us were truly expectative, but in my case, what excited me most was the fact that it was the first time in my life I would travel by boat. Time passed and despite I was not fishing like the other, I was terribly fascinated with that experience in which I was learning a lot about a new world I had never heard about: fishing.
At midday while having lunch, we started talking about guns. My student manifested his wish to become a sheriff.
- Really? – said Jim with bright eyes full of enthusiasm.
- Of course it’s true, in a few years I would like to be like you – said the boy grinning from ear to ear.
Jim forgot about the fishing and started talking to the kid about his jobs. Then he borrowed him the gun and explained him how to use it. Accidentally, the boy shot the gun against the priest who was standing in front of him. Unluckily, we could not arrive in time to bring him to land and priest George died. Although it sounds unfair, the boy was not considered guilty and Jim was sent to prison.
Personally I wouldn't never leave a person shoot a gun in the same boat I was in unless I was sure they knew something about guns. Jim was a sucker to leave a new beginner has his gun, let alone a half-wit. It probably served Jim right, what he got. But still we miss him round here.

Marian

Frozen blames

“Hey! Mary, come on… grab some food and do it!”
“Don’t bother me, you know I don’t like cooking, not even microwaving frozen pizza, y’know that. You could ask Louise, she won’t mind cooking for you” — for her dearest beloved brother, I should say. I must admit I’m still a bit (well pretty) jealous of my brother. Even though everything is in past now it still affects me. He was the one who got all the benefits, the one who received love, he was THE one.
Our parents had 3 children: Mark, Louise and me. Being the first, and a man, he received the respect of our father. Edgar, that’s its name, was an animal. I still remember, when kids, how Louise and I suffered of its abuse, not just physical but psychical. It would torture us from dawn till dusk, mess with our minds to make us detest ourselves, just for the fact of being girls. “Only weak men have daughters in their genes and I hate myself for that, but what’s done is done so I will make my girls two men of good”. Louise adapted to this creepy situation, she did everything a man was supposed to do in this family: obey; she cut her hair and she even started to call herself Louis. On the other hand, I resisted, I fought against my father and his painful punishments.
I was only 9 when I realised that something was wrong with it. I had secretly been chatting with a neighbour for about a month when I came to discover that not a single child was beaten up or kept prisoner in the basement. During those marvellous few seconds we spoke each day, I felt in another planet, in a world where nobody could find me. Words such as rights, school, and freedom suddenly became part of my vocabulary, and they encouraged me to keep on fighting. Meanwhile, my father continued with its daily doses of correctness and “education”.
My mother never got to know anything about our dreadful hours gently provided by Edgar. She just simply thought we liked living in the basement with no friends or company. Each family is a world, they say; apparently, our world belonged to the insane galaxy.
Like this, we spent (suffered) our lives. Lack of education + overdose of smacks = Louis(e). She was the one who suffered most, she had a multiple personality; she knew she had to be a men but somewhere in her split, fragile and weakened mind she felt like a woman. I still cry when I see in her tears the remains of what has been the most obscure time of his (her) life. And it was mainly that poor thing and my wish to end with her sadness what motivated me to kill the person who had given me and my sister a life of sorrow. I was definitely decided to kill my father.
After its death, everything (OK, not everything, not even the greatest amount) changed. It was as if the spell had been broken. I suddenly felt released. Louis(e) stopped to call herself Louis and started to do all the things she had been banned to do. Now cooking and baking is her passion, and our faces of pleasure after eating one of her meals is her joy. Mark and mom understood it all and no comments were made…

“HEY! MARY! Wake up! I’ve been calling you for almost 10 minutes, what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, nothing. What happened?”
“Well… the thing is that Louise is sleeping… so would you mind if you could get a pizza from the freezer downstairs? I promise I’ll cook it myself”
“OK… but you owe me”
I hate him when he does this, why can’t he just get it by himself… I walked down the stairs. I was in that basement again. Now, I realise that many years have passed since the last time I was down here. Panicked? Terrified? Not at all. Pleased with myself. Relieved. Confident. Strong. I’m sure I’ve done the right thing… I opened the freezer door. The steam slowly comes out, and fills the room with mist. I search for a pizza but it is awfully hard. The freezer is full filled with expired food. Must have been ages since a living soul set foot on this room, which is particularly away. I mean, this room is abandoned and hardly anyone enters.

Since mist has vanished I started to empty the freezer. Steaks, hamburgers, ice cream, frozen fried potatoes, ice, and more ice. But no pizza is at sight.
“What!?” WHAT’S THIS!? MAAAAAARK!!!! HEY MAAAARK! HURRY UP AND GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!!!
“What the hell is going on here?! What happened?”
“Look”
“Where?”
“THERE?”
“There? It’s just a freezer and frozen food dropped everywhere”
“Look closely” — He leans into the freezer and screams so loud he almost deaf me. “You see?”
“We must do something”
In the freezer there are three “things”. Three towels wrapped around something somewhat big for a freezer to be in. I carefully unwrap the towels. Horror runs through my body. It’s a little arm. Now, let me tell you, NOW I AM REALLY PANICKED. I continue though. It is even worse. A head. A baby’s head. It is (actually it WAS) a baby, now it is frozen baby. There are 2 other “things” and I’m afraid that they would most likely be the same as the other. And, yes they are. Three dead babies in my freezer are staring at me with a cold look. No one can possibly resist this. I feel my temperature going down, everything is moving so fast, I close my eyes.

“Wake up, wake up… Oh! Glad you are back” — I am so happy to hear his voice again. “You fainted and I almost did it fainted too. Mother told me the whole thing… When we were 15-12 more or less she got pregnant again, and she promised herself she would not let Edgar hurt her babies anymore. She hided her pregnancy from the beast and once she gave birth she immediately froze her. The same happened two more times, and would continue happening if it wasn’t for you... Luckily you killed E. before she get knocked up again…”

I’m thrilled to know that because of my courage and determination I prevented more deaths. But there’s only one thing I can’t erase from my mind. Those little eyes staring at me keep on coming to my dreams every night blaming me for their sadness… and I know they are right. It took me too much time murdering Edgar; if I only had killed it before, those little angles would have never existed and would have never froze to death in the interior of a fridge.

Diego

..Friends..

Miss Rossommon moved to one of the quietest neighbourhoods in Illinois. She was really pleased with the place she had chosen to live. The house was very comfortable for an old lady, who loved inviting her cousins and her friends to have a good time. Despite her age, Miss Rossommon was an active woman, who always went out with friends and took their cousins everywhere she could. She was also a modern lady, who loved going to the cinema and playing computer games as their cousins had taught her.
Miss Rossommon knew nobody in the neighbourhoods, except for Miss Bartlett, who was a lady almost her age. In spite of being very busy, Miss Rossommon made time for Miss Bartlett and invited her to have dinner every other Saturday. They were accustomed to eat delicious dishes and drank a coffee accompanied by cakes that Miss Bartlett prepared.
As opposed to her friend, Miss Bartlett was not full of life at all. In fact, she had neither family nor friends, so she had nothing to do during the day. For that reason, she was green with envy and as time passed she hated Miss Rossommon more and more for making her feel the most miserable person in the world. This matter was driving her crazy. Therefore, she decided that it was time to take action. She had reached the limit to what a person could tolerate. She had such a perfect plan that nobody would put the blame on her.
One Saturday, as she usually did, she went to her friend’s house. They had an appetizing dinner and after that they went to the living-room. When Miss Rossommon appeared with two cups of coffee and was about to take a sit, Miss Bartlett asked:
- “Sorry, dear. Can you go and fetch a glass of water?”
- “Of course! Just wait a second.” - said Miss Rossommon, walking straight to the kitchen.
At that moment, Miss Bartlett took out a small bottle from his bag and poured some drops of a mysterious liquid into Miss Rossommon’s coffee. “Only a few would be enough” – she thought. Some minutes later, Miss Rossommon returned with the glass of water. The two old women drank their coffees and ate some cake, while having a lively chat. Then, it was time to leave and Miss Bartlett said goodbye to her friend and went home.
The following morning, Miss Bartlett got up very early. For some reason, she felt more relaxed than ever in her entirely life. That day, she decided that it would be nice to visit her friend and gave her a little present; after all she had done for her. She stood in front of Miss Rossommon’s door and rang the bell. There was no answer, so she went to the back door, which was always left opened. Determinedly, she walked inside the house as if she knew where Miss Rossommon was.
She found her in the living-room, lying crumpled awkwardly on the floor, one of her legs twisted underneath her. Her face was curious, flat colour, like the inside of a raw potato. Miss Bartlett drew back the curtains. The clock had stopped just before midnight, almost twelve hours ago.
For a moment, she stood there, still holding her little case, in the comfortable, chintzy room and then she dropped down on to her knees, and took the head of Miss Rossommon into her lap and, rocking and rocking, cradling it like a child, Miss Bartlett wept.

Marian