The Wounds That Take Us Away

I am in a tower where everything is concrete with columns and roofs without details; it is a place that spreads a real melancholy of a dream that began and was abandoned by the dreamer.

This skeleton has the finest view of a horizon of fertile land to be cultivated. It is an emotion that trembles in my chest when I climb the dark steps; I follow the glow that seeps in from the top floor.

The landscape is revealed when I leave behind each level of the structure, I can feel that atmosphere that darkens me and I am adopting.

She surprises me when I see the line that separates paradise and earth; her steps on the stairs make me turn around. She stops and stares at me over her shoulder.

“I promised to wait for you,” I said.

She leans her head looking at the emptiness, then drags her eyes and looks at the floor that awaits her on the next stairs and continues her way.

I follow her until we reach the rooftop, and she stands on the edge of the tower. I kept my distance.

“In every dream you find me,” she said extending her leg out of the edge and holding her slipper with her fingertips.

“Come with me,” I get closer, but she drops the slipper and stops me, “why are you running away when I find you?”

She turns around, stares at me with her expressionless eyes and throws herself off the cliff.

“Please don’t give up.” I said holding her arm.

I help her up, and we sit on the edge. She remains agitated with her gaze on the ground, catches her breath and turns to me.

“Will you ruin it?” She said.

“No,” I replied shaking my head, “and you?”

“Neither,” she smiles.

She walks along the roof of the tower prowling its corners and stands to look at the horizon. The sun illuminates the huge treetops in the forest and her beautiful figure with her hair lifted by the wind.

“Our lives have always been shrouded in sadness,” I said.

“Why do you talk as if you understand what I have lived through?”

“I was there, in all of your dreams I saw you and I’ve also felt it, you know it,” I replied, “I followed you here where everything ends to return to you.”

“This place is yours like mine,” she hesitates and leans her head to find her thoughts, “who are we? Why do we always meet?”

I also have the same questions, but if this is our creation and we always meet, it is because we are together in this.

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Open Your Eyes And Look At Me Again

I scream calling someone, but I don’t see who.

“I am alone…”

No one comes to the fox valley.

I walk down the hill dappled with flowers, waves of wind shake them and release their fragrances.

I’m immersed in a mist.

Exhausted and crestfallen I glance up at the avenue. There is a tree with wide branches that cross the street and give shade at the bus stop where I am.

The bus stops with the screeching of the brakes and the vibration of its sheet; compressed air hisses, and the door opens. I pay the fare and walk the path that glows in the light from the windows; each golden line inhales away the brightness of the seats and breathes gently, returning the intensity of its beam. All except the one with the woman in the black swan-neck sweater.

“It’s her!”

She is with her gaze left in the void; I approach her looking for her green eyes, but she refuses to look at me. Sitting next to her I hold his hands.

“I miss you,” she said.

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Feline Smile

[Hey, I tried to call you! On Sunday we are going to Plaza Galerías, the whole class is gonna be there at 5pm. You must come hahaha… Hope to see you]

I got her message on Facebook a day after dreaming about her. It’s been a while since I met with my high school classmates, but the truth is, she the cause of my nerves.

I arrive before the hour and I sit down on a bench far from the meeting point. Although I get along well with people, there are only a few that I can talk to without feeling compromised and endure those annoying silences.

I wait and pretend to text to cast light glances. It is 5:00 in the afternoon and until then there are no signs of her or the others, so I go to the meeting point in full view of everyone. I think is the wrong day or time.

“I’m stranded like a cat in doubt.”

If I was late and they followed the plan, I will have to meet them in the mall or call my friend to find us; or avoid the effort and retire. I look at the crowd, hoping to see a familiar face; I imagine observing myself from that bench, and how absent-minded I look at the entrance as the last chosen player. Anyway, I’m trapped, and I only wish I wasn´t there.

“What the hell is going on where are they?”

It is 5:30 when she leaves the mall to meet me, with her green eyes and a feline smile she hugs me. She is a little smaller so her head reaches my neck and I can smell the minty scent of her hair. Honestly, I don’t remember how much we talked that afternoon, I suppose it was nice for our looks and laughter.

Forty minutes later another one appears, greets my friend but does not recognize me; closes his eyelids halfway as if he expected to give him a proof of being companions years ago. I don’t care and smile.

Her best friend arrives and with a kiss recognizes me. She came with another classmate, and like the other she has forgotten me. I really don’t care.

We stayed until we realized that we were all. I feel sad for her, only few came.

She was one of the most popular girls in high school, not because of the cheapness of being the “Hottest girl.”

“Sorry, it’s true. There is no scam greater than popularity for the beauty of youth.”

Of course, she is pretty with fine, soft features, kitty lips and ears sticking out of her black hair. Her skin is light without being white, thin with a little but firm peach butt; sometimes its big or small, fallen or raised, it all depends on her clothes. The same happens with her tits, they are like a pair of cupcakes; I just need milk to enjoy them.

“She is not perfect, but authentic in its entire being.”

I’m sure the reason for her popularity is her personality; she adapted very well, one day she could talk about video games, board games, comics and the other day I would see her on the basketball or volleyball field.

She was an awful student and more than once I had to get her out of the detention room. I’m don’t remember when we became friends, but I know the day we met.

It was when the volleyball fell onto the grass and rolled towards me, where I was resting.

“Hey! Can you pass me the ball?”

I raise my arms from my eyes, and I look at her standing on the field in her white uniform; behind her everyone awaits my answer.

“You come.”

“Please!” Said with her hands on the waist.

“I’m not your damn ball boy,” I covered my eyes.

I even feel his presence standing there.

“Forget it,” said one player, “he is a loser.”

I see askance and find him on the other side of the field. I get up and pick up the ball.

“Be careful, he’s already mad!” He mocked supported by the laughter of others, even she covers her mouth to laugh.

I throw the ball in front of me and jump hitting it in the air, it shoots over the net, passing the players and it goes down. The guy who screamed throws himself and the ball lands inside the field.

It wasn’t the best of all shots; I was more encouraged to hit the guy than make the play. It was enough to impress them.

We bought coffee at the Flor de Córdoba and wandered around the plaza aimlessly in the stream of people. My friend proposes to go to the billiards, I thought that would get high hopes, but each one makes an excuse to leave.

“Okay, so what are you here for? “

We go alone, we had a great time and a lot of fun; ordered French fries and drinks, and we split the bill.

She beats me two of three games; then we play a shooting arcade, as a team we fight the demons that try to kill us, if they beat us, we will start separated in the game until we meet.

At night we exchanged numbers and said goodbye. We will take the same bus, only in opposite ways from the city. She waits in front of me distanced from the avenue.

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The Gift

“I fell into absolute darkness, in the depths where he lives…”

Unconscious I collapse like a feather into the abyss; thin and luminous ribbons descend from the outside. They tie my body and smoothly pull me to the wavy surface. I cross the ocean line into the sky and enter a hole with windows shining in golden lights. On the ascension the vitality of my being declines.

A valley of flowers follows from the tunnel, the sky is clear and the clouds concentrate in a vortex. The ribbons become warmer and transform into a radiant point that spreads flares in the shape of rings. Three angels levitate in paradise and stare at the moon above them, in it is the tower where there is an enormous tree that emerges from the heart of the copper vault. My journey continues along the rock paths to the library and books are dragger away in a sandstorm. Then come the sewers and take me inside the tower. I arrive at the temple where the wind organ sounds, there are candles surrounding the altar and I hear a voice calling me from outside. It is noon and a blue light falls on the town. I blow steam into my hands that I can barely heat. 

The doorbell rings as I come in the cafeteria; it reflects the menu table in the dessert display case, no one is at the counter.

Sprinklers spray the grass and the droplets get trapped in its leaves, two butterflies flutter among the trees and then rise to the tops, a few rays of sunlight escape from the branches and fall to the ground with small dots of light.

The faint bright flickers at the sound of the projector; the film shows the star-filled ocean where a comet traveling in a bright spot.

I look back and a glow appears across the street, it comes from her medallion. She is sitting on the pedestal of the pole and is waiting leaning on it. Her blouse is white and her skirt is gray, her eyes are green and her hair is straight black.

“Where have you been?” I asked.

“I haven’t moved from here,” she pats the concrete and stares at me, “will you go up?”

I sit next to her and from there we observe the town.

“A dream,” she said.

“But who?”

“Me,” she replied, “whenever I am sitting here, I see you going through those places and you disappear into one of them.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Well, it’s the first time you’ve come to my side,” she takes the medal off his collar.

In her hands she extends the chain and wraps her arms in my neck; her lips are close to me and I kiss her, she stays with me until she fastens the chain, then with a smile she jumps away from me.

“I will wait for you!” I yelled behind her before she disappeared around the corner.

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When Seagulls Fly

My brothers swim in the sea while I am sitting on the sand accompanied by my dogs, my father drinks a beer and helps my mother prepare the ceviche.

I go in the sea until I cross the waves blast away from my brothers and I dive into the depths. I rest lying in the water and look the seagulls pass by in the sky. I swim to shore but I can’t get out, I’m trapped in the current and a wave rises behind me. I struggle to escape it, I call my brothers who play on the shore; I scream to my parents, but they continue preparing the food. My mother calls them to eat but she never called me; only my dogs see me. The wave breaks pulling me into the sea and rolls me inside. I fall on the beach; I try to get up and as soon as I recover the wave falls on me and pulls me into it. And I never went back to shore.

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Echoes Of The Past

A desperate scream in the dark, I hear my voice came back.

Why have you left me?

Peace is extinguished and I only see war, I feel drained and I slowly consume myself.

CARLOS REEVES ’05
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Faeton

There is a lance-shaped tower on the moon, made of stone with symmetrical finishes connected at the tip of the arch. In the center is a rosette of violet and blue colors. The entrance is a cavity with engraved wooden gates guarded by two angels. Men, women, and children walk inside.

I find myself on a hill followed by a woman holding hands.

“I have to leave,” I said staring at her trembling eyes.

Kiss my cheek and release my hand.

I go to the tower and gather with the walkers; she waits on the hill.

At the entrance, one angel blocks my way and stares at me. A third angel comes out.

“What do you want?” The voice echoed in the wind.

“I want to see him,” I replied.

“Turn back!” said.

“Why should I move? I am image and likeness, more noble than you. Let me in!”

The angel moves aside and vanishes inside.

I climb the stairs where the cries and wails of the dark make me tremble. I feel exhausted and my sight is clouded, before everything was darkness, the third angel appears and takes me in arms. We float in the sky to the clouds that reveal the vault of the universe; I could distinguish three figures of radiant warmth. My body burns in flames until it scatters in flakes of dust.

“Dust you are and dust you will be,” said.

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Old Memories

A voice calls me, I turned around and there she was. I know who she is, I never heard from her again until today, and now I see her standing there in the Cathedral’s choir just as I remember her. Smooth and dark hair, light skin with green eyes, short and with a feline smile.

CARLOS REEVES ’05
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The Century Of Chimeras

The red cobblestone extends on the second floor around the courtyard, I walk down the hall and head to the library. It is unusual to find someone there and is ideal to spend time alone.

I stroll through the bookshelves to the window, light a cigar and watch out onto the street, I can see the walls that limit the high school and the tree on the sidewalk whose branches reach me. I rip a leaf and drop it, spins in the air and before touching the ground, a current lift it high in the sky.

Doors creak when opened and hit the wall, I throw the cigarette away and hide. There is an odd silence made by something that disturbs the stillness of the objects, and I sense the atmosphere of «That» is hiding. Carefully I move glancing over the books.

I hear the rubber of the soles squeak on the floor, one lighter than the other and different from each other; whispers come, laughter that does not want to be heard and the blow on a desk that screeches.

A young woman is sitting on the edge of the table, the hair hides her face and, in her groin, she has the head of «Something» that hugs her body. It is fascinating how she enjoys and silences the moans of her orgasm.

«That thing», «That something»; «That» sucks her, holding her arm and leans her facing the table. She laughs and turns around but «He» or «She» subdues her again.

“You hurt me!” She claims when her head hits the table, tries to withdraw but she can’t move.

«She or He» lifts the girl skirt and opens her thighs, «That» unfold its crotch where tentacles hold her tight; in the androgynous form of «He or She» I do not distinguish which flesh is penetrated.

What I experience is her getting rid of «She or He», «That or It», «It or That» hurts her, «He or She» who rapes and abuses itself, a diaphanous body and another tangible, stain themselves.

At that moment I feel the turbulence of emotions that fade into something so dark and disturbing. There is a stench and I am paralyzed forced to keep watching. I see the pain of her sadness freeze my blood.

«She or He, That or It, Something or Thing. He or She, It or That, Thing or Something.»

“What are you?”

“…Ehshe,” «That» replied.

The girl falls at Ehshe’s feet, she writhes the legs hiding her vagina and with her hand the anus, the bleeding paralyzes her and withers until she becomes a trembling and sobbing lump. Ehshe licks her cheek and vanishes without taking its tongue off.

I cannot imagine the impression she has when her gaze, clouded with tears, reveals me. Wipe her eyelashes.

“Why are you here?” She asked, “it’s a nightmare.” Said shaking her face trying to erase the past.

“No, this is real,” I replied.

“Shut up!” Hides her face, “No one knows, only me and no one else. You are not here; you do not exist for me.”

Raises her head and finds herself in a pasture of a radiant green in the light of a crystalline sky, there is no pain and wears an impeccable white coat. And then she discovers that I’m not there anymore.

“I am sorry,” said.

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My Moon

I see the immense moon, beautiful and radiant.

Without company and so similar.

My sister, I talk to you and even ask for you advice.

“Take the course of immortality,” she said, “learn the path of loneliness; let’s share this arid feeling, the bitter that I observe on earth.

Let’s keep the warmth of our hearts.

“Do you think we can exist just you and me?” She asks.

I love you as a part of me; I desire to give you the essence of my existence, as the fruit that shelters me every day.

CARLOS REEVES ’05
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The Fall Of The Spirit And The Return Of The Eagle

I feel restless, I stand up and go to the hall feeling that anxiety increase.

Soon my heart beats fast and my breathing shakes. Now I run down the hallway that stretches into infinity and swirls in the dark.

I reach a gate outlined by the light from beyond.

The girl stands up, I hit on the gate to get her attention, but she barely listens. She takes one step forward and slowly another, takes the next and the next, until she runs to the horizon and throws herself on the cliff with open arms. The gate opens at once, I rush to reach her, and I rise in the wind. I do not see her from above and fear the worst; my eyesight improves and I plummet to the precipice. My body trembles as I descend with speed. The girl shakes passed out in the air, I catch her with my claws and spread my wings. The girl wakes up, climbs onto my back and hugs my neck, leaning against me. Finally, we head to our destination.

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A Dark And Miserable World

My mind and spirit are opposite to you, I’m blindfolded, and I wield a sword to cut every part of you and restore the balance. I only listen you call for an audience.

I hear fragile ants with a miserable spirit, seduced by the queen they have crowned. A queen radiant with illusions and numbed by the melody of the advisors that adorn her.

Today’s queen is different from tomorrow’s, the investiture is the true cult of the reign. The skies cloud over the kingdom and darken the mirage of its power.

I sense that another world is coming, made by man and woman; women and men from whom the light was taken will come like lightning in a storm of rage and pain.

CARLOS REEVES ’07
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A Hero Dies Without Allies

It is cold in the sewers; the walls are damp and I hear the drops bursting on the floor. I walk leaning against the wall until I reach a vault where all the tunnels come together as a maze.

Going down the stairs I hear the echo of voices coming from the bottom of the vault, the stair is short and with my fingers I grab the ledges on the wall. I discover a candlelit corridor, their flames flicker with my footsteps and die out behind me. I watch a group of young men in white suits armed with swords, listen to their leader who has gathered them around the campfire. I try to see his face, but it fades with the sound of his voice.

“Hey you!” The leader said upon seeing me behind the group, the others turn with faces hidden by darkness.

I turn around ignoring the insults he throws at me, but one more word brings me closer and hits him. For an instant the group does not believe what they have seen, they raise their weapons and chase me.

I flee through the tunnel with all the strength I have, the exit is impossible to find in this underground labyrinth and soon my legs stop responding, I need to take a breath.

The noises drift away and think I lost them, but I recognize one lurking in the dark, I watch the shine on the sword disappear in his own shadow.

“I’m behind him!”

I approach, grasp the dagger and stab him in the neck, back, and belly. I fall to the ground, his body lying next to me and I push him into the sewer flow.

I grab the sword and slide into the dark ready to face my enemies; then I feel a blow to the neck and a stream of blood escapes from me. I try to stop the bleeding and my sight fills up with every blow I get.

The eagle waves on the pole of the Main Square with green, white and red, in a night that glows with flames.

“Take cover!” Shouted the soldier when there was an explosion.

The platoon opens fire on a building, armored cars shoot from their turrets, soldiers force their way in the crossfire towards the entrance and the tanks are ready to fire. The captain asks for air support to fight the interior forces.

We are losing the battle, soldiers die and others retreat, the armored cars explode one by one. I hear a scream in the Main Square, and I see a woman covering her daughter from the shooting. I rush to them skipping debris and dodging bullets, I reach them when a missile buzzes and explodes on us. The noises disappear, the flag catches fire and the pole falls. At that moment you see a slow reality, enough to keep that moment and take it with you.

A dying man would have the image of his family; I see the remains of the girl and her mother.

“A lost nation …”

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The Dwellers In The Caves

On this narrow path the fire serpent descends towards the heart of the mountain.

We advance in the gloom, torches reveal the smooth contours of our armor and on the march we illuminate the tunnel.

The villagers asked for our help and a first group answered the call. Weeks went by without hearing from them, so we go back to finish the assignment.

Months ago, the miners discovered a copper vault where demons are prisoners. At first, they confused them with figures carved in stone, but they woke up when they sensed the presence of men. They lifted their stout bodies with twisted horns and tangled manes.

The twinkling-eyed demons watched the miners flee in terror. From the depths, a wave of bellowing invaded the tunnels. Those who had escaped sealed the mine and heard the screams of their companions drown.

We follow the latin prayer that comes from the tunnels, as we get closer a glow becomes more intense. We discover a monk kneeling before the cross that burns with a crucified man, his armor and body were charred, raises his head from his shoulder to look at us, in that instant we unsheathed our swords.

“Saints, back off!” Said the monk in a raspy voice and stands up, “this is my kingdom!”

With a sword in hand the monk strike, we dodge their attacks and curses. He is a man of God, nobody dares to fight him, one of us sent to preserve the faith of the first expedition. I take a side step when he dashes to me, the weight of the sword makes him stagger and he leans on it to stay upright, he recovers and looks to us, raises the edge and with a single movement I cut his arms with my sword. He falls to his knees observing his wounds. I pierce his chest and twist the blade bursting his ribs, wipe the blood on my face in front of the stunned gazes of the soldiers and continue my way to the copper vault.

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Romance Of An Idea

I have a grand obsession; I love her so much and it distresses me to be apart from her.

Again, she crosses my path and I think of pulling away. I remember the day when I didn’t want to go with her, and I insisted inside myself. At first I hesitated, but I tried again.

CARLOS REEVES ’05
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The Voice Of Darkness

Without mercy or pity, goodbye tears. 

Hate, anger and revenge satisfy me.

“Who can you trust?”

I would answer.

“Trust yourself.”

We must triumph over treachery, get up and keep going.

“Be the best of you.”

Love fades and hatred prevails; follow your ideals and push yourself.

Defeat the silent enemy that dwells in your spirit, hide those feelings and you will live.

CARLOS REEVES ’05
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