Trabajaba de sol a sol con la sonrisa en la boca, nunca a sus hijos les faltó de nada, crecieron, estudiaron, uno se hizo abogado, el otro cirujano, se casaron, se fueron y aquella madre callada al verse sola, se fue muriendo de pena poco a poco, ni al entierro acudieron, simplemente la olvidaron.
Esta es la historia de una madre que como tantas y tantas se mueren de pena al quedarse solas.
EL POETA Y SU PERRITA
No podria alimentar-se sempre a base de nostàlgia. Ho sabia prou bé, però els records es presentaven com les menges més suculentes, les més deleroses, les més plaents.
Devorava els records com aquell que ha viscut una postguerra, amb l’ansietat que provoca el saber que la cartilla de racionament té ja tots els segells.
Intentava allunyar-se de la nostàlgia resant una i altra vegada el mantra que li receptaven: Ara i aquí. Només Ara i aquí.
Però el passat era més tenaç, més persistent, més eloqüent… i sempre tornava. Apareixia de sobte amb la millor gala i li deia, amb contundència:
– Demà serà un nou dia. Però l’ahir vindrà a buscar-te.
TROIA
Era un día de diciembre, había nevado, hacía frío, iba como cada día paseando por la calle cuando la vi, pocos años que tendría, pidiendo por caridad, todos pasaban de largo solo unas pocas monedas en su mano brillaban, me acerqué y le deposité un billete, ella me miró con los ojos llenos de lágrimas, me dio las gracias y salió corriendo. Yo extrañado seguí a aquella niña, la vi entrar en una juguetería y comprarse una muñeca, al salir me vio y reconociéndome me dedicó una sonrisa, esas sonrisas que dan los niños pobres mezcla de esperanza y de dolor, la vi perderse en una esquina y pensé que se iría a su casa donde sus padres la esperarían.
A la mañana siguiente leí en el periódico que una niña había sido encontrada muerta abrazada a su muñeca Era ella, por fin encontró una amiga y se fue con ella.
EL POETA Y SU PERRITA
Un manyoc d’emocions et recorren l’espinada, pràcticament barallant-se per provocar la primera reacció física. Els ulls se’t neguen de llàgrimes i la pell se t’eriça pràcticament a l’instant. Aguantes la respiració. Les parets comencen a giravoltar al teu voltant, però et continues aferrant a la teva realitat, tot i que no ho sigui. De real, vull dir. No et pots permetre parar en aquest moment, no mentre el temps segueixi passant dins de la història. Els ulls recorren amb avidesa les paraules tintades sobre el paper. La tensió creix, el cor batega amb força, les llàgrimes t’ennuvolen la vista i les mans… Intentes que no tremolin massa. Rellegeixes l’última frase, l’última línia, exhales. Agraïments. Passes la pàgina i et trobes amb només una última fulla en blanc. A poc a poc, amb cura, tanques el llibre i el deixes davant teu. Llavors, amb els ulls encara molls, la pell de gallina i l’ànima sacsejada, atanses la mà per tornar-lo a començar.
BRI
Humans are obstinate with our beliefs of what we know. We are by nature questioning beings. Sometimes when something that doesn’t correspond to us or to our thoughts happens, being perfectionists, we overthink about that and even become obsess with fix those even though deep down we are denying it, until we get tired and stop trying that when really, is just a wrong idea. Sometimes we are slaves of our thoughts and ideas of what we have to. But the main thing is that the root of these, are the nature of our good inclination and we also aren’t obligated to follow them. Only one by himself has the decision of the actions through his life. Don’t be perfectionist and don’t analyze too much, just believe in yourself, you can do it!
IL SUB CAP
It was a beautiful spring day in Barcelona, and the streets were buzzing with excitement for St. George’s Day. Maria, a young aspiring writer, had just released her debut novel and was eagerly setting up her booth in the city’s main square. As she arranged her books and roses, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. Suddenly, a handsome stranger approached her booth and struck up a conversation. They bonded over their shared love of literature and before long, Maria found herself falling for him. As the day drew to a close and the crowds began to disperse, the stranger presented Maria with a red rose and asked for her phone number. It was a St. George’s Day she would never forget, as it marked the beginning of a beautiful new chapter in her life.
THE GOLDEN BIRD
One day, when I was playing chess with my two little cousins, I heard a sound of the exterior. It was my neightbor who wanted to invite us to his house. We accepted the invitation and entered to his house. Then my neighbor shut us down in a room. We felt very scared at that moment but our fear increase when the lights suddenly turned off. A while later, we found the war of calling the police. Three hours later, The police arrived the house and found the neighbor stunned in the floor near the electric panel.
PERICO DE LOS PALOTES
It was a day in a very dark forest, gloomy but the truth was that it was very modern and new.
We were three friends in that dark forest, the three of us wondered what we are doing here, as soon as we wondered that, a very tall, old witch appeared to us and with many warts and wrinkles. We asked her what are you doing here and she said this is my forest I have all the years of my life waiting for someone to, then he took the three of us and took them to his house, he said that he wanted to eat us all because he hadn’t eaten for a long time, between the three of us we took the witch and burned her.
We finally found our way and went home.
PEDRO
When I was 5 years old, I used to play in my grandparents’ garden. One typical summer day, I saw a wasp. I did not know what it was at the time, but I had a great idea: I made a hole, and then I caught the wasp and put it inside the hole. My initial idea was to bury her because she seemed dead, but suddenly the wasp started attacking me and injured my left hand. Then I went to the village hospital and the doctor gave me an anti-itch cream that I had to apply every day. I cried a lot, but that experience taught me an important lesson: wasps can attack you if you disturb them. Since that day I have not bothered any wasp again.
SUSOBAKO
There was once a girl who only cared about herself, thought about her trumps, and cared about her problems. There was once a girl who felt that was surrounded by kind, loyal, and true friends, but they were false, because she was only cheerful for her joys and only cared about her worries. There was once a girl who when her friends were unburdened with her, ignored their problems, and only talked about her. All these mistakes that could have gone unnoticed, caused her to become gradually lonely, depressed, and forlorn. She claimed: “Why? Why to me?”, but she didn’t even think that she was the detonating of all of this, she didn’t notice on time. Then, she did that compulsively, she did it without thinking about the irreversible consequences. But that was, her end or her second born?
BETI