Thursday 6 April 2017

PRIMEROS AMORES


PRIMEROS AMORES



Les llamaban asaltos por ese entonces












Alguno ponía la casa, un patio ,un garaje, o el jardín , se cambiaban las bombitas de luz por alguna de color.


Alguien traía un tocadiscos y unos cuantos long plays.


Cada uno traía bebidas o algo para comer.


Era mi primer asalto, no sabía en absoluto que hacer, estaba aterrorizado


Creo que me invitaron por error, pues tenía 12 recién cumplidos porque las chicas de 12 buscan chicos de por lo menos 13.


Al comienzo fue fácil pretender que uno sabia las reglas


Un amigo me dice: Y? vas a sacar a bailar a alguien?  Yo lo miraba con cara de que preguntaba si iba a enrolarme en la Legión extranjera


No decía nada solo movía la cabeza de un lado para el otro


No hace falta , me dice, mandate a la pista y movete, nadie baila con nadie y por ahí alguna chica se acerca y  haces como que baila con vos.


De inmediato él se escabullo entre el tumulto y empezó a danzar con movimientos descontrolados, yo me hice fuerte cerré los ojos y lo seguí.


Una vez adentro fue fácil saltar , bailar , reírse y acercarse a algunas de las chicas y decirles “hola”


Todo parecía andar bien , si sobrevivía un rato más seguro iba a cumplir mi objetivo, de dejar una buena impresión en el grupo de ser un tipo divertido y me invitarían a otros asaltos en los cuales estaría más “canchero “en el tema de sacar a bailar y hablar con las chicas. Sin embargo por hoy, ese era todo mi objetivo , nada de novia , ni besos , ni nada aunque me gustaban mucho algunas de ellas .


De repente todo cambio , algo inesperado, algo para lo cual no tenía el más mínimo libreto, alguien apago’ algunas de las luces quedando el salón un poco en penumbras.


El ritmo de la música desapareció por completo y el silencio entre disco y disco se hizo más largo que lo esperado(todavía no había enganches entre canciones teníamos una sola bandeja).


Despacio empezó a sonar un órgano como de la iglesia y la gente abandonaba la pista velozmente, solo quedaban 3 o 4 parejas que empezaban a bailar abrazados


Mi amigo me dice , uh! Pusieron los lentos estos son solo para los que tienen novia.


Me quede solo en un rincón , mientras los chicos se servían refrescos y charlaban con las chicas, pronosticando el fin de mi actuación en el papel de “cool boy”.


De repente una chica comienza a caminar despacio pero decididamente hacia mi lado con paso firme y con sus ojos puestos sin lugar a dudas en los míos que se humedecían y parpadeaban nerviosamente (como que sabían de anticipado , más que yo mi próximo destino).













Podía registrar cada movimiento , como si fuera en cámara lenta, el ondular de sus hermosos largos cabellos en la brisa de la noche, el suave movimiento de su cuerpo al acercarce, al mismo tiempo que corría un incómodo sudor frio por mi nuca.


Al acercarse me tomo de su mano y empezó a caminar hacia el centro de la pista, una parte mía se sentía como el reo camino a la guillotina, y la otra no pudiendo dejar de avanzar hacia lo desconocido, se sentía entrando en las mismas puertas del cielo, de la mano del ángel más hermoso.


Los sonidos del órgano se hicieron intensos y al comenzar a bailar dieron lugar a un repentino redoble de los tambores, como introducción a una voz romántica


Después de bailar , me dio un beso en la mejilla , se despidió y me dijo que se tenía que ir, cuando la vi alejarse , recién me di cuenta de que no estaba bailando más con ella, de que prendían las luces , de que los padres del dueño de casa anunciaban el final de la fiesta, de que mi infancia había terminado, de que se acabaron los autitos en la vereda , la mancha y la escondida y era irremediable este impulso y para mí pesar  no iba a poder de dejar de pensar en ella.


Mi amigo se me acerca y me pregunta Y?? le sacaste el número de teléfono? Yo lo miraba con cara de que preguntaba si iba a enrolarme en la Legión extranjera


No decía nada solo movía la cabeza


Nunca más la volví a ver


L a canción “Con tu blanca palidez “ de Procol Harum aún me pone la piel de gallina desde  el sonar del primer acorde de ese órgano.






Más primeros amores en lo de MOLÍ DEL CANYER

Wednesday 5 April 2017

"THE IMAGINARY WINDOW" Short Story Today special guest : Nicole Miro



"THE IMAGINARY WINDOW"

Short Story Today special guest : Nicole Miro

1st. Award (Short Story) contest literary “Mares del Sur”Nicole Miró (17 years), Menai, NSW, Australia, presented under the pseudonym Lucy.Nov 2017






In the Midnight heaven's burning
                  Through the ethereal deeps afar  
                  Once I watch'd with restless yearning
                  An alluring aureate star;        
                  Ev'ry eve aloft returning        
                  Gleaming nigh the Arctic Car.
 








One day consists of eighty-six thousand and four hundred seconds. Each one containing countless options, decisions, and possibilities. Yet my days were spent so differently than grasping every moment and enjoying every second. For the last year, my world has consisted of being hooked up to machines that suffuse rays or tubes that infuse liquids into every conceivable cavity. As monitored and drugged patients  we have relinquished our professional status and personal identities as we are no longer the people we were when we entered. Staying in basic white rooms with the so-called privacy curtain which fails to protect us , neighbours who reveal the inner details, which were meant only for our doctorsears. The worst aspect of all of this, is having to be so dependent on everyone else, especially since my eye surgery two months ago. Day in and day out my life is no longer mine. The deep darkness of my mind and sight must rely on my trembling hands to find the food that I must digest.

“Mimi, are you wake my young friend?” Mr. Josh Stone said with is deep croaky voice that had a slight tint of an English accent. Mr. Stone has been my roommate for the past month and a half, although I have never seen what he looks like, I know I could identify him from a crowd of people. It’s strange how you can recognize someone from their insignificant noises. For instance the tapping of his walking stick or the fact that he had an irregular breathing pattern (I don't know, it always seemed faster that it should be). The chattering of his teeth every time he was sunken deep into his thoughts or the slight whistle of his nose as he drifted off to the world of the un-conscience.

“Hey, Mr. Stone,” I said.

“yeah I'm awake, I'm so very sad that your leaving before I get my bandagers removed from my eyes,”

“I just wanted to say that I will forever be thank full to your kind heart and if all goes well I shall see you at my wedding this fall yes?”

“but before you leave will you tell me one more time what’s outside the window?” I pleaded.

“oh, you so very kind” he replied

 “I shall hopefully see you then, and of course dear friend, it will be my pleasure, soon you will get to see much more than a window, because soon the world will be your window,”. Mr. Stone, Answered

Mr. Stone, was quite lucky you see, as he had the bed right next to this beautiful window that looked straight on to the park. Every afternoon in the most intricate details he would spend telling me about the crazy world, that unfolded right before his eyes in this beautiful park. He illustrated how the ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. He would describe the young lovers that walked arm in arm through the amidst of flowers that came in every colour and of the  fine view of the city skyline which could be seen in the distance. As Mr. Stone described all this in exquisite details, I would on the other side of the room  imagine this picturesque scene.




ahem, okay Mimi, the rays of sun propel off the shimmering water, as children fetch their overthrown balls, slightly quivering from the dense cold water that the swans are bathing in. The children's boats sail far as they are pushed with the beautiful southerly wind and the anxious mothers yell at their eager children to be-careful. But todays there is something different, there is a parade, women and men dressed in white and red suits, playing the obnoxious instruments of trumpets and horn. The cords flow with exciting beats, right in the middle is a man and a woman holding each other so tightly. Their eyes are so infatuated, they bring themselves closer to each other, their plumed lips touch, as the crazy atmosphere surrounds their one moment. It is a joyful day as you can see the laughter and tears of happiness in the eyes of all those involved. Quite magical in fact.”




Lost in thoughts of the spectacular event unfolding, I could barely hear the tapping noise of Mr. Stones walking stick, finally leaving to embark on his way home. There was no need for goodbyes as deep down we knew that in that very moment we shared our own good bye, silent but beautiful.



Soon after, my door unlocked and the muttering of words that I couldn’t quite compute began to surround me. It was time!

“Hello Mimi, how are you feeling? everything feels alright, nothing worrying you?” Doctor Davidson inquired.

“All is well,” I mumbled with sheer excitement and trembling hands.

“Well then let’s not waste time and let’s take your bandages off “Davidson replied. The process began, each layer of bandage making my heart beat faster, and my hands tremble more intensely the suspense was killing me.

The obliqueness of nothingness soon came to an end, and there was the light, It made my eyes burn in pain, but they soon began to adjust to the light and the blurriness, I could finally see! I turned to Mr. Stone’s bed and ran to the wall in hopes that the parade was still there. But there was no window.
“Excuse me nurse, what happened to the window, Mr. Stones window?” I questioned, confusingly.
“What are you talking about, he never had a window?” she replied.

“But he uses to tell me about the park in the window, and the parade, and all the couples that were in love, and all the Children with their sail boats?” I explained as my heart was sinking to the bottom of my stomach

“I’m sorry Mimi but even if there was a window, Mr Stone was blind, didn't you know?”  the nurse answered.

How could it be? He was blind? My mind was so confused but in my heart, I knew, all those stories beyond this wall, were true in the midst of our imagination and it was far more beautiful than anything I had ever seen with my own eyes.