Short Stories I

The first one was because all had finished
The second one, the fear about what would happen after
and thus silence invaded another silence.

 

Although she was small she had big dreams
So she was growing a little more every night to catch it up «on tiptoe».

 

When you choose one door, you burn the other. So it is hard to choose
A part of us longs for them to survive the flames.

 

That outset meant several farewells. Because sometimes things finish with beginnings and not with endings.

 

Days that you had not played your cards as well as you should, and you just can wait that the night shuffle and then distribute.

 

Everybody told me that I had missed the train of my life. I guess that they can not see a world full of train stations.

 

Luck is looked for one, though sometimes it finds us.

 

It was difficult to discern whether the stories ended in silence or the silence ended the stories.

 

That night she dreamed with him. Her subconscious wanted that they celebrated in that oneiric world which would have been their 50th anniversary.

 

Since that day he promised himself: Don’t settle, don’t chase ghost of the past, not taking shortcuts and look for the illusion into eyes.

 

«What do you do in the first day of the year, it will repeat the whole year» She smiled, cried and make mistakes. She wanted a year plenty of feelings.

 

That penny had been giving luck for a lot of years. He threw it as far as possible. He wanted to start to get things by himself.

 

 

Short Stories II

We are just memories trying to survive time. We hide in stories, photos and songs so as not to lose the battle.

 

In their reunion they gazed at each other to see if the bond of trust was still there or if time had destroyed it.

 

It was another war of time, to forget before being forgotten, about not missing someone who does not miss you.

 

He waited for her.
He waited forever.
As long as a memory can last in the mind of a human being.

 

Just as the best places tend to be hidden
the best stories are usually secret
and the best people require time to get to know them.

 

We can not always choose when the end will come. However we mark the beginning. You just need to start.

 

It is difficult for everyone to leave something behind, specially if we have put so much of ourselves in it that nothing remains the same.

 

The downside of armour is that, while it protects us from dangers, it locks us in it.

 

As in books, stories do not progress if we stop reading them.

 

Memory it is not so much what it give us but what we believe we receive… …remembering.

 

And they insist on turning problems into rivers, even though it is easier to jump a puddle.
We have been doing that since we were kids.

 

Sometimes we make promises that we will not fulfill, just to stay connected in an impossible deal. Like seeing each other again.

 

For that precisely,
for that reason she was smiling.
For those moments that only last a few seconds and we need a
lifetime to accept.

 

Almost as important as discovering our fears is, when we pursue something, to understand what we would do if we achieve it.

 

I am not saying it was going to work,
it was probably the craziest idea I’d had.
But I hated not having the opportunity.

 

Short Stories III

She forgot him the only she knew how:
By running away,
By burning bridges,
By burying the moments,
By never looking back…

 

There it was, again, the feeling of wanting something irrationally when you have or may have something certainly better.

 

When fate steps in,
Only remain in our hands to choose the ending.

 

I’ll start from scratch,
If you want, come with me,
I can simply promise the unexpected.
I have never truly known where to go.

 

In this lopsidedness:
You may arrive too late for a change
Or too early to carry on as before…  

 

They had been seeing each other,
Everywhere,
without a word
As if a strange force
refused to keep them apart.

 

Not everyone can be broken into pieces: for that you would have to have fought for at least a thousand and one dreams.

 

In this sadness,
A future we will never share
And the hope of seeing you again
The silence falls.

 

Promise me that the time we are not together
will not erase everything we’ve been through.
Even if this exile lasts a thousand years.

 

It was not that the flame had extinguished
It is that just that for one day,
We had lost interest in the fire.

 

Sometimes I feel that the walls restraining our insatiable madness are made of crumbling rationality.

 

Life is an endless series of goodbyes where no matter who has left, all that remains is the soul of those who have said goodbye.

 

In that moment I discovered,
That smiling at you was the greatest conscious act in what had been an improvised life.

 

Some memories are like chasms, if you lean in, it is almost impossible to come back whole.

 

Words do not remove the poison,
But they relieve the pain from the wound.

 

If in years,
any of this still makes sense
Come back and look for me.
Life is about moments
and this…
wasn’t ours.

 

In my personal hell,
Demons have your laugh
I’m blind
and you are not there.

 

We were two toothed-gear. We were stuck on an never-ending loop. We rotated and rotated. For an instant, we touched before the wheel of time span forward. 

 

You will be whoever you want to be…

Today you will be what you want to be
you decide to where the road takes you,
will travel in the twilight of your days without weakness.

And when you turning your head at a moment in time,
you find that you had walked by that spot,
and again you have earned own reins.

The constancy drew a watercolor full of luck you,
you fought a thousand battles, beat in equal parts,
but nobody could never quench the fire of your soul.

There is something that other people have lost throughout the process,
does not exist jail that can enclose your spirit,
no one can extinguish the light of the star that you have forged,
no one can impede that one day you would fly away,
nobody can get away from the goal you have marked.

You are the master of your own life,
you are the owner of your soul

But do not declare victory yet, everything is about to happen,
with the dawn you will hear the echo of footsteps that tread you,
to 86,400 seconds to lose the new train.

But as far as regards today…
…you have earned it.

Memories of midnight

The old man was sitting in front of the fire, staring at the cuckoo clock on the wall. It was a gaze empty of all impatience. He was watching the time, but he didn’t mind the advance of the clock. A wait that maybe could take forever and not for this would be longer.

When at last the clock struck twelve, nothing happened. It was so still it looked like a painting located in the darkest room of an old museum. After five minutes, he sighed wryly and got up to smoke his pipe. When he returned to his seat and struck a match, all the fires of the house went out. Te room, avoided total darkness, only because the halo of the moon light frittering through the large window. Thus the old man’s face was split between the shadows and the total darkness…

-You are late – He said with a tired voice
-You are the unique mortal without suffering in agony, complaining for five minutes more of live
-I want last request before crossing
-Is not in my hand to decide where you go
-It doesn’t matter
-What do you want then?
-Three days and three nights to read the seventh shelf in my library. There are the memories that I have written in my lifetime
-You understand the consequences of this request ¿Right? If you find unfinished issues, however small, you can’t cross to the other side
-I need to remember how I got here, where I was, how many times I fell and what I couldn’t achieve
-Then, so be it.

For three days and three nights he read and reread his life.
He can only remember a little about his childhood, but he thinks that it was happy.
“Today is my birthday. I turned six years old, and mum and dad have given me this diary” Those first words, written with a crooked and winding calligraphy, were the beginning of the story about his life.

It wasn’t an easy read. He enjoyed the ups but suffered the multiple downs. He had been a great writer, so just read, he was reliving his story. Fell in love with his first love and he saw her again in the rearview mirror while he traveled on the road bound for his new home.

He struggled to make his friends and split the time between them. He saw again people moving in and out of his life, some important and other tan apparently meant nothing to him, but throughout the time it would become important.

He rediscovered aspects about his personality that he believed dead by changing the world. But most of all, to stopped believing in “better half”, fulfilled dreams, saw how the fear showed him sometimes, regret, pride, fell in love, had children, educated them, cared for them, lost their loved ones, had grandchildren, loaded with faults, defects.

At the end of the third day, when midnight approached that he had played his cards as best he could, that he would make the same mistakes and have the same successes. He was honest with who deserved it and who did not do right.

But above all, understood that each of the failures and successes he had committed, he had taken a path that placed him where he was now. It would be questionable to talk of good or bad luck, justice o injustice, fate or destiny…now these mattered little change would infinite future events different and he was happy with what I had.
Finally all the puzzle pieces brought together.

With a blinding flash, the moon down the curtain after the twelfth stroke…