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

The taste of friendship

There was a knock at the door... The Count went to open it...
It shocked him to discover who was behind the door...
It was Red-Nose... Years had passed since the last time they saw each other, nobody knew why he was there, so far away from his hometown.

Count Dracula had met the clown in high-school... They were best friends... Incompatible, you might think, but no, they weren’t so... both sides of the coin... terror and happiness... both mutually needed to keep with the course of universe...

Red-nose didn’t know how he had ended up in front of his best friend’s castle gates... he felt so confused, lonely, unloved... the happiness had faded away from the clown’s face... he was a dark clown, a dark cold clown with no shine, with no joy... for these
reasons he left home to wander...

Dracula was sad too, the bad press horror stories pushed him away the Transylvanians, he was alone too, alone in his huge castle, but thirsty more than alone... there wasn’t a living soul he could suck the blood out... he was paler than usual, as white as paper... and his friend was what he needed to recover the colours, to recover the blood, to satisfy the thirst which was killing him...

“Come in, please... so much time since the last day”

“Yeah, long long time ago...”

They continued as usual...

“Would you like a drink?”

Dracula was able to see the veins beat in Red-nose’s neck, he imagined himself swimming in a river of blood, drinking ‘till he dried it up...

Thirst didn’t recognise friendship... Red-Nose would be just another victim and it seemed he didn’t realise it yet...
As soon as the clown turned his back, the Count rushed towards him...


******

The first blood drop went through his fangs... Friendship, they say, is sacrifice for the other...

That was the first and the last time Dracula tasted friendship...

Diego

Merry Chrismas!

It was then that it occurred to her to give a party. There were always several parties at Christmas time. She liked sitting in a noisy dinning room… It annoyed her very much whenever she heard of a party given in the neighbourhood to which she was not asked. Thirty five years had passed since the last time she had been invited to one, for thirty five winters she had been alone, thirty five Christmas eves since his husband died… She felt lonely, unloved, blue; and it was those feelings what had made her the despicable wretched old woman all neighbours were afraid of.

Lots of stories that spoke of her as a bitch had pushed the children away, so they would not knock at her door anymore. But not only children were terrified, those who had been living in the neighbourhood for years were also scared: they thought that that repulsive person could harm their kids and might even torture them. This was her reputation but it was not reality.
Behind the doors of the enormous mansion lived a solitary old lady with nothing but pain in her heart. Her husband had been the only person who had ever loved her and her sons had not seen her since their father’s funeral.

She had started to plan the party a month before. It would be because of her beloved’s death anniversary. ‘I have to get my family back before I die’. This was her only thought, her only wish. She imagined day after day the wonderful evening which was to come, the whole family chatting and dancing as it used to be. No more silence would be heard inside that house… She delivered the invitations personally. Every neighbour and every member of the family were invited. She invited all the people his husband had ever met, indeed.

The day of the party came. Exactly thirty five years ago she had discovered her husband’s corpse sitting in the same armchair she was now. She waited… She patiently waited …

…

Three days after a drop went down through her cheek. Still in the armchair, she sobbed silently in pain for a long time, until she suddenly stopped.

…

She had choked to death with the tears she had swollen, and nobody would ever discover it because the only person who had ever cared for her had died, in that same armchair thirty five years ago.

Diego

Wallace

There are times when I believe that Wallace was no more than a victim of the coincidence between a rare type of hallucination and a careless trap, but that indeed is not my profoundest belief. I am more than half convinced that he had, in truth, an abnormal gift.

My suspicion started a year ago. Summer had arrived, and its lively colours inspired me and my best friend to retire some days to my uncle John’s cottage in the country, where we would rest from the anxieties and hurries of the city.

The little house was extremely comfortable. Two enormous windows in the living room allowed us to see the wonderful landscape that sorrounded us. Miles and miles of fresh green grass, a warm breeze which brought us the scent of the summer flowers, and the sweet singing of the birds and the distant rumour of the sea fulfilled our hearts. I was pleased. For two years I had been trying to write a novel, and now I was certain that my lost inspiration would come back to me. Every afternoon, while I was writing, Wallace would go out for long walks. He used to tell me that this activity calmed his nerves, so stressed during the rest of the year. He was a prestigious lawyer with a heart of gold, and people from all over the country looked for him to assess them in very profound issues. He was a young man, who never got married. He enjoyed his own company. He was a passionate reader and had a strongly inquisitive soul. Since we were kids he was curious about any odd subject he would find in my father’s library, subjects which were not of my particular interest.

Days passed peacefully, and Wallace’s long walks would extend more and more. One day he arrived more excited than the usual. His eyes glittered with a curious light. He smiled at me and said, his voice trembling:

“Oh my friend, I’ve found something in the woods. Oh, if you could only...” He paused and smiled again. I was puzzled.

“My dear Wallace, what do you mean?”

“Oh, oh... I can’t describe it properly... I can only tell you that my walks leaded me to some sort of cave... I was reluctant to enter at first... Who knows the dangers I would encounter? But after some days my curiosity was so strong that I had to enter... Oh, you can’t imagine... But I’ll show you soon...”

He did not say another word. That night I wouldn’t sleep, thinking about my friend’s words. I had never seen that expression in his face, like a child when he sees an exotic butterfly dancing in the air.

The next day when I woke up I found out that Wallace was not at home. I spent the rest of the day waiting for him, anxious and worried. He came back at night. He looked very tired, but his smile was bigger than ever.

“Dear friend, where have you been?” I told him, feeling really upset.

“Oh... I have to show you... Sit down...” I obeyed him, without understanding. He sat down in front of me and opened his right hand. A small purple rock shone enigmatically.

“I found it in the cave. It was in the floor... Waiting for me... You won’t believe... See by yourself...” he pressed the rock hard, his eyes closed in concentration. When he opened his hand again, the rock had dissapeared and my friend Wallace looked at me.

“My friend, I see the world in my eyes... Each treasure hidden, each ancient manuscript locked away from any man’s reach...”

“What!”

“ There are things which have never been discovered... And that are waiting for me... I don’t want the gold my friend, but the secrets, the real origins of our civilisation...”

My heart froze. Was he loosing his mind?

“I can’t explain it... In all my studies... I never thought I would come across something like this, not the sourcere’s stone, but a different one... Can you imagine? Oh my Lord... It would change the human world... I see the exact location of things which I have never conceived in any of my wildest dreams, and I have to look for them... Come with me...”

But I couldn’t. I tried to convince him to think rationally. But he parted. I haven’t seen him since that day.

I have come across curious studies about a very peculiar rock... The searcher’s stone they call it. A rock which, according to ancient philosophers, would lead the human race to amazing discoveries... But I cannot believe it. Six months ago I received a letter from Wallace. He is in the North Pole, searching... He says he is close to something that will illuminate the world... I do not regret my decision, but I hope in my heart to see him again. And although I refuse to believe my friend’s words, a feeling is growing inside me, the certainty that soon me and the world will have news from Wallace, and that these news will change our lives.

coni

A trip to Albania

Leo Van Koft was sent to Albania to eliminate the last of the rebels which had caused the largest civil war of the country. It had been years and years of fight and thousands of deaths that finally determined the Germanic government to send his best man to put an end to the cruel rebellion. Nobody knew why Germany was so interested with that matter, though nobody ever questioned this help. It was too valuable to lose it for such a minor complication.

Van Koft arrived at the capital city eager to find Frederick Dunstan. It would be an extraordinarily difficult job. No one could had ever caught him nor even found him. He was supposed to be hiding somewhere in the mountains or deep in the forest. Intuition was the only thing he could rely on. His own intuition and nothing else. Three days had he been wandering before he met a woman who had said to see Dunstan by the Derwat river, behind the hills and across the woods. Leo trusting her directed towards that site.

It was awfully hard to get. There were neither roads nor even a path. From time to time he thought he would not be able to get out alive of that cursed forest. After a two week journey he managed to cross it and reach the river. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Down the river was a mansion, a mansion surrounded by mountains. He decided to have a look. It was much bigger than any house he had ever seen. It was deserted, though. There was no living soul in that luxurious house. He stood in the grass looking at the clear sky, thinking in nothing but how to get out of there. That is when he realised that he has been fooled; he was led into a trap.

Behind him was standing Frederick Dunstan aiming Van Koft with a shotgun. In a split of a second Van Koft turned and pointed him with his gun too. The time froze. Every second that passed seemed an hour. Both of them were staring at each other. The silence was broken by a loud dull sound. The powder’s smell was still in the air. Down, on the floor lay a body. He drag the body to a secondary road. His work was finally done, he managed to survive and kill the enemy; but on the pavement was Leo Van Koft destroyed, but beyond defeat.

diego