Global Warming

The first time, that I remember, that I became aware of global warming was between the 7^th and 8^th grades, like at 13 years old. By then, I had seen a map on National Geographic that illustrated how the polar caps had melted through the years thanks to this phenomenon. I remembered I was impressed, though not so worried. I saw another image in a book that showed how high the sea level would be had all the ice on Earth melted…it would cover the Statue of Liberty, something like that. Later, the film “The Day After Tomorrow” became suuuuuper popular, coming out around that time. It talked about the proximity of the next Ice Age. Man, so Hollywood. I remember seeing wolves running through New York City…RANDOM event for a movie like that. Please. A professional who came to my school to talk about the 2006 tsunami in Indonesia mentioned that the film’s theories were pure fiction, super exaggerated. After that, I don’t recall any other global warming highlight in my life. I thought either the issue is not as serious as before, or people got tired of worrying over it. Anyhow, though I frankly don’t have environmental issues on my priority list, I DO recognize that it is not right to abuse of nature in any way. We will pay for it if we do. By harming nature, we harm ourselves, since we depend on it; thus, it makes no sense to do so. For now, I cooperate trying to use just the necessary amount from nature’s resources. 

Fatal love

The truth was that Aria was in love with the sea.

 There was no doubt about that. Aria would spend hours swimming, losing track of time. She loved the sunset reflected on the sea, making every aspect of life seem more interesting when she reflected watching it. The water interacting with her skin felt like a soft caress; she felt loved and attended every time she got in the water. Little did she know, the sea fell in love with Aria as well.

            The sea saw itself in her eyes. Those turquoise eyes… He couldn't stand the look that Aria gave him, without shoving her a wave to her toes, inviting her to get in the water. She understood the message every time, and pleased him afterwards.

This went on for a while, until Samuel came into her life. Those caresses felt warmer, those words sounded more legible and that love more reciprocated. Of course the sea got furious; he wasn't going to share his Aria with that fisherman.

“Is my Aria blind?” the sea asked himself. How could she prefer some weak, ordinary fisherman when she could pick the greatest water body in the world? He gave life, he possessed life, he manipulated life… he took life.

The fisherman Samuel did not know what he had gotten himself into, for the sea was his boss and he took his woman. Just like that, the sea took revenge; one morning, he sank Samuel’s ship drowning him afterwards. Aria saw all this, and she swum to her lover. The sea couldn't get enough of Samuel’s death; he kept shoving waves at him not noticing that Aria was on her way to the scene. It was too late when he did, for he had already drowned her as well.

 The sea fell into despair, while he felt Aria’s lifeless body fall into the deep. He embraced her; hopeless, regretful. A storm following by, as a shout from the sea revealing the agony of murdering his one true love.

A Stone Statue...

Hey, yo. I really didn't get so inspired for a short story about the realismo mágico theme, which is very strange, because I've always aspired to write stories with a taste of that genre, so mysterious. So I ended up writing about a surreal moment of my life, one that kind of reminds me of realismo mágico, cuz I didn't want to fall behind the weekly pace of the blog. I'm sure that inspiration for this theme will come in its due time, so I really didn't mind not having any for this week. A small experience that I'd like to share:          
        
              In my neighborhood, there’s this house near the police-entrance-gate-thing that’s very modern, and it has a stone statue of the Buddha on the front steps. It’s been a year since that statue has sat there. I’ve always had the following theories regarding the owners of that house: 1) they’re Buddhists, 2) they’re not Buddhists, but they like exotic things and thus have that statue on their front yard. Whatever the reasons, I thought that it’s quite interesting to have such a piece in the neighborhood, so uncommon in Puerto Rico, an island where any reference to eastern culture is pretty rare (not counting the presence of Otakus*). The thing is, I took a walk one morning last summer, and I came across this Buddha, and I see that it has MONEY in his hands! Like pennies, nickels, and dimes. That very precise moment suddenly became so surreal for me…I almost felt as though the statue…was REAL, or alive. How can I explain it…in my head, I thought, if these people are leaving coins in its hands, then either they really are Buddhists or they’re just superstitious, like people who throw pennies into fountains to make a wish (though most of them do it just for fun, they’re not necessarily superstitious). Both explanations sort of gave life to the statue, because the people are leaving money because they really think that it will help them or something. I savored the moment, for I love finding any situation that’s as close as possible to magical--especially when Asian culture is involved! Now, every time I pass by that house, I check if there’s still money in those hands. There always is. I wonder if gardeners, cleaning maids or anyone else snatch some of that money once in a while, perhaps to complement their pocket money for train and bus rides.

*anime fans or geeks

........have there been any moments in your life that seemed surreal?

Unconditional

He had never met love until she came into his world. His love for her was: Unconditional, Poisonous, Magical and Dangerous.
   
       A never ending battle between giving happiness to one another, and raping each other's hearts at every waking opportunity.

Godiva had something mysterious about her. She was quiet; radiant. Her eyes reflected the emptiness of her spirit, and strangely enough, it provoked the interest of many young men. Even though they were intrigued by Godiva, her heart was won by Daniel; a cruel young man that only knew how to make her suffer...and love her like crazy.

Godiva and Daniel... those two where a case.

Their fights where as enormous as their passion when the moon reached the sky.

     There where times where Godiva could take it no longer, and tried to end her misery. Daniel held her all those times and cried. He wished he was better to her, while caressing her hair. There was nothing he loved more than his Godiva; and there was nothing he hated more than himself.

      He wanted to make her happy, and at times it crossed his mind that the only way to do so was to let her go.

But he also attended reason, and the whole "if you love her, let her go" thing was not going to work in this for them.
She was not sane, and he felt the need to take care of her; that was his life purpose, and he was determined to do so.

They got engaged, being the wedding in only few months. Godiva eyes sparkled from day to night, enjoying the company of his beloved Daniel in the preparation of that special day.

Then...
White beautiful dress. Flower crown. Long veil.
The day arrived, and Godiva was so happy to share the rest of her life with her one true love. The only thing missing was the pearls. You see, in her family there was  tradition which consisted on the bride going to the river moments before the wedding and recollecting three blue pearls. She must sit on the riverside and close her eyes facing the river. Holding the pearls, she would make three wishes for her wedding day. Then, on her daughter's wedding day, she would give the pearls to her child as a gift and giving her her best wishes.

 Godiva went to the river. She held her dress so it wouldn't be too soaked and dipped her feet in the water; even though it was impossible not to be too soaked because that specific day the river was out of control. After several minutes of trying to find the blue pearls, she went deeper. Finally she found a blue pearl... then another one. Then the roaring river got even wilder. The watercourse was too strong, and Godiva was finding it really hard to breathe. No matter how much she fought, she wasn't going to let go of the pearls. When her eyes were about to shut down for good, she felt someone push her up. She took a deep breath, for she didn't know how much it was going to last. Whoever was pushing her up, wasn't taking any breath. Daniel did not give up, he kept trying to get Godiva out of the river at any cost. He succeeded.

When Godiva rolled out of the river, she kept waiting for Daniel to come out. She induced her hands in the river trying to reach for him, all in vain.

Her mind got blank. There was nothing to do, but to sit there holding her two pearls; hoping that her love would sometime come back from the river.

Help for realismo mágico post...from Wikipedia :D

This is just so you can have some idea...it doesn't have to be perfect, anyways.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magic_realism

PLUS check out the images for inspiration :) a picture is worth a thousand words, right? What better way to be inspired than by looking at images....especially for the mood of a writing.
Tip: you don't have to write a short story, si no te sale, you can also write about any experience in your life that seemed surreal, or wierd...you can even write about a random dream of yours! Widen your horizons...
https://www.google.com.pr/search?q=realismo+magico&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=I9YkU5G0Nufx0gHax4HwBA&sqi=2&ved=0CE4QsAQ&biw=1517&bih=741&dpr=0.9#imgdii=_

Torn Apart

* 1) Please excuse the roughness of the images, it's the first time I get my drawings scanned and uploaded, hehe. I will make use of this first experience to improve my future illustration posts. 

2) The story is meant to be read as a slideshow, which can be done by clicking on the first image and clicking on it again to see the next slide. Enjoy!

Letter to a Friend

February, 20--

Dear friend,

I will let you in on a cryptic subject that troubles my mind.  It might horrify and abhor you, but I need to reveal this sensation--this anxious manner that troubles me.  I was very shocked to ascertain that I could unwillingly fall in love with him.  I do not want to be brave and daring, and give my heart away so easily, to an unrequited love that will trouble me eternally.  But, alas, he is a sweet gentle soul; he flourishes with the passing of every page and the absorption of every word.

I wander last night--you know where--and I saw him.  He was beautiful.  The night was so full of him; he was everywhere all at once.  He was in the fluttering of the trees above, in the starry night that muttered with deep regret my isolation, and he was in the dark soil I trotted upon. When I reached him, he was a simple black stone with white letter.  I circled him, observing from every angle.

I had never felt such intimacy. My heart trembled with every look, every rush of wind.  He lured me, as if saying, "Come down and kiss me, gently…deeply."  And so I did.  I knelt before him and pressed my lips upon the grave.  He had made love to me many times before, through his immortal word--the holiest of words--that I have drunk plenty of.  And, I tell you, I will never again be sober as long as those words live within me.  

Yours,

M.

Afraid

Mara didn't have a choice, but to learn to live with the fact that she saw rotten faces on the windows and mirrors every night of her life. She could not tell her parents, growing up; for one time that she did, she ended up hospitalized in a mental institute thought to suffer schizophrenia. She knew what she saw, and she knew it was not only in her mind.

One of those tormented nights, Mara was combing her hair sitting on her bed. She wouldn't dare to face the mirror, and to prevent the curiosity she forced herself to look down at her feet. Slightly, the teenager felt her hair in the back of her head be dragged to her shoulder. She automatically looked at the mirror and saw an old lady sitting behind her grabbing her by the neck. Mara fought it back, but every time the strangling just got stronger and there was nothing she could do about it. She managed to throw her comb to the door in order to make some sound, but it was useless. If it hadn't been for her big brother opening the door without notice, she would've died that night. He was startled to see her so purple and breathing so hard. Of course he hurried towards her and asked what was wrong, and of course she lied.

Other near death occurrences took place in her room and to the rest of the house; but only she saw them. The most horrifying part was when one day she felt someone following her to school. That day she had multiple horrible encounters; in the classroom, in the bathroom, in the cafeteria, and even in her car when she looked through the rear mirror and saw little twins on the back seat. They were ginger; their faces were in state of decomposition, bloody and there were maggots. One of them smiled and approached to Mara. She screamed and lost control of the weal, which made her have a horrible accident.

She survived the crash. On the bright side, she killed herself when she went home.

Bajo la lluvia

Una vez escuché una canción que narraba la historia de las gotas de lluvia: Las que tuvieron un largo y lento viaje por el cristal de un carro; las que caen en el mar; las que se reencuentran con otras antes de llegar al final…

            Nos cuentan historias que nunca podremos descifrar. Sin embargo, si escucharas con atención, podrías tal vez descifrar la nostalgia con la que se encaminan a su último segundo estas gotas de lluvia.

            Aurora se tomaba el tiempo de escuchar las historias de las gotas de lluvia. A pesar de su corta vida de seis años, esta niña tenía un entendimiento y un uso de sus sentidos superior que el de muchos adultos; ella pensaba con su corazón. La pequeña tenía habilidades muy extraordinarias, y sus padres nunca dudaron que haría cosas maravillosas con su vida. Solo tenían una preocupación: la niña usaría muletas toda su vida puesto a una condición de nacimiento que le impedía caminar. Por esto, Aurora le rezaba a la luna por un milagro todas las noches de su vida a medida que crecía.

Los años pasaron, y nada cambiaba. Aurora casi no tenía amigos, nadie la invitaba a compartir ya que tenía muchas dificultades para moverse de un sitio a otro. Se la pasaba la mayoría del tiempo frente al mar, mirando la puesta del sol, sintiendo el masaje que la arena le daba a sus pies; soñando tener al menos un amigo, en quien pudiese confiar. Cuando llovía, permanecía sentada, inmóvil. Cerraba los ojos y sentía el escalofrío de las gotas heladas cayendo sobre ella. Uno de esos días, sentada en la orilla de la playa sintiendo la lluvia, una Aurora de catorce años abrió sus ojos. Para su sorpresa un chico estaba parado justo al frente de ella, como a 7 pies de distancia. Aurora se quedo mirándolo, y este hizo lo mismo. Cuan extraño era eso; un chico que de momento apareció, mirándola sin decir una palabra. Ella no pudo evitar examinar la apariencia de ese muchacho: obviamente estaba mojado por la lluvia, pero aparte de eso tenía una complexión muy dulce; algo que a Aurora le encanto inmediatamente.

            La historia de estos dos prosiguió como muchas historias de amor. El chico le dijo algo que a ella le llamo la atención, pero ella no lo demostró tan entusiásticamente. Ella dijo algo aun más interesante, y el si demostró su interés por ella entusiásticamente. Se involucraron en conversación. Él le pidió sentarse a su lado, ella felizmente aceptó. Hablaron de la luna, las estrellas, el mar, el sol, la lluvia, los alienígenas, las hormigas, los rizos castaños de Aurora, los ojos claros de… Aurora le pregunto el nombre, el chico le dijo que se llamaba Miguel; hablaron de los ojos claros de Miguel, de la profecía de los mayas, y hasta del triangulo de las Bermudas. Aurora confeso que se debía ir pues era muy tarde. Miguel ofreció ayudarla a caminar y Aurora se negó, así que el simplemente la acompaño a la casa. Al entrar a su casa, cruzaron miradas, Aurora se puso roja, Miguel sonrió, y Aurora entro a su casa.

            Se estuvieron encontrando en la orilla del mar todos los días a partir de ese día. Bajo el sol, bajo la luna y bajo la lluvia. Se recostaban uno al lado del otro, y hablaban de cosas que ya a nadie les importa.

Un día, Aurora le expreso que quería aprender a bailar; luego se sonrojo, pues sabía que seria difícil bailar con su condición. Miguel le respondió sin ninguna inquietud que le enseñaría; así que la sujeto y la ayudo a pararse. Le coloco los pies sobre los de él y bailaron bajo la luna llena. Fue en ese momento que se dieron su primer beso. Miguel sintió las lagrimas de Aurora bajar de sus mejillas, fue aquí que entendió verdaderamente el dolor que Aurora sentía; y cada lagrima de dolor por parte de ella, era una apuñalada en el corazón para Miguel, pues lo más que él deseaba en el mundo era la felicidad de Aurora.

            Ya habían pasado muchos meses, y el amor entre ellos dos había crecido inmensamente, al igual que el temor de Miguel.

Veras, unas de esas noches en las que Aurora permanecía bajo la lluvia, rezándole a la luna que le permitiese caminar a la misma vez que le pedía tener una buen amigo, una particular gota de lluvia en vez de contar su historia, pedía un deseo también. Deseaba hacer a Aurora feliz, pues la recorrió por la cara, pasando por un largo recorrido en su brazo; en el cual se enamoro de la chica. La luna decidió hacer esos dos deseos realidad, convirtiendo a esa gotita de lluvia en un chico apuesto que pudiese personalmente hacer a Aurora feliz. Este chico amaba a Aurora más que nada, y quería  hacer a Aurora más feliz que nunca.

            Casi un año después, Miguel estaba convencido de su decisión. Sentados junto al mar, permanecían frente a frente, acariciándose y mirándose con infinita ternura.

-Llevo toda mi vida contemplándote, mi Aurora. Desde que llegabas a aquí, a sentarte junto al mar…- dijo Miguel, y Aurora sonrió.

-Te amo,- dijo Aurora.

- También te amo- le acaricio el cabello a Aurora, la cual respondió cerrando los ojos y sintiendo la tibia mano,- Siempre te ame, y siempre te voy a amar.

Entonces la calentura de su mano en el rostro de Aurora se esfumo. Cuando esta abrió los ojos el ya no estaba. Con enorme tristeza hizo el forzoso intento de correr al mar en busca de él… no lo encontró, así que respiró hondo. En ese momento fue que se dio cuenta, que estaba de pie, y había corrido al mar.

Something Foul

…There was a strange feeling about the hotel, Jared thought. The guy at the lobby had been very friendly, and now it struck him that the other clients he had met seemed a little too happy.  He’d noticed, when he entered the room, that there wasn’t a TV set nor a telephone…he needed one to call his friend to pick him up the next day, since his car had broken down. Right now, with the sun gone down, everything was dim, for the lightning was very poor. There was dead silence everywhere.

He left his room to explore the place…he could feel it in the air, something foul was about. That was when he stumbled on something—he looked down. It was a dead goat, its side tattered with blood, eyes bulging wildly and mouth open revealing teeth, resembling a demonic grin.

“I killed it right now”, said a voice. Jared jumped. He hadn’t seen a young man crouching nearby, in the shadows. “It’s for the Hotel’s proprietor.”

“Huh?” said Jared. “Wha—I don’t get this. Why in the world would he want that?”

“You don’t realize it, do you?” said the young man, “you made a great mistake in choosing this place for the night. We are all prisoners here, ever since the moment we stepped onto the lobby.  We’re doomed to be under the tyranny of the proprietor…he demands we sacrifice goats and leave them in the corridors for him to feed on when he walks by at midnight. And, on every new moon, we have to shed some of our own blood into a flask and leave it in his pent house. Such is life in this hotel.”

Jared felt chills run down his spine as he heard these words. “….who IS this proprietor?....What IS he?”

The young man looked at him steadily. “We once tried face him…put an end to all this and become free, but there was no way our weapons could wound him….” He paused. “There is only one explanation…he’s not human.”

The next minute, Jared was running down the stairs, going to the lobby to run out the door….he halted abruptly. The door through which he had entered earlier was gone, just a solid wall with a painting hanging in its place. He looked left and right. The lobby guy was still there, looking at him with no sign of surprise at all, smiling.

“Trying to get out?” he said, his eyes widening strangely, “My friend, in this hotel, we gladly accept anybody’s coming…” the eyes were beginning to bulge, similar to the dead goat’s, and his smile widened, too, “… But we don’t let anyone leave .”◙


...if you have the time, I'd like you readers to listen to this song: