Tag: creative writing

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Unha fuxida cara atrás

Malia que sempre estivera segura de que, tarde ou cedo, acabaría estando naquela situación de fuxida, de incógnito, Mireia Mainer non pensara unha historia que contar, unha escusa, unha serie de razóns que xustificasen de xeito lóxico o feito de estar alí de súpeto, naquela pequena localidade da comarca do Segrià. Tampouco non tiña un nome alternativo pero aínda que isto si llo preguntaron, o nome, ao alugar o piso, comprobou que á xente non lle preocupan moito as razóns que levan ás persoas a trasladarse, a cambiar de vida, non é realmente necesario desenvolver un discurso, unha historia vital, falsa ou non, que nos explique.

Quizais foi por algo relacionado con este descubrimento que Mireia, Mirelha Arnal para os seus novos veciños, sentiu algo inédito ao pasar por diante da igrexa parroquial da vila, algo que a empurrou a entrar con seguridade e avanzar polo corredor que formaban os bancos até a cabeceira do templo. Foi como se unha voz do pasado, unha lembranza do que ela algunha vez chegou a ser animase á súa conciencia a reencontrarse con moitas cousas que pensaba abandonadas no curruncho estraño das cousas que non se necesitan e que saen a flote sen pedilo porque realmente non forman parte do que é accesorio.

A moza fuxida, para os seus veciños unha tradutora acabada de chegar de Toulouse, quedou mirando durante un intre as imaxes do retablo e sentou no primeiro banco, á esquerda. Había anos que non se axeonllaba nunha igrexa. Ao principio mantívose simplemente en silencio, coa mente case en branco. Só sentía a agonía da fuxida, o desexo de non atoparse naquela situación de perigo e soidade. Entón, cando a súa propia vontade se aburriu de examinar unha por unha as accións fundamentais, os puntos de inflexión, as decisións ante as encrucilladas que a levaron até alí, empezou a falarlle a outra persoa, decatouse de que empezaba a rezar.

Foi unha sorpresa, para ela que non se chamaba Mirelha Arnal e que tampouco, non, por suposto non se chamaba Mireia Mainer, decatarse de que aínda mantiña na lembranza moitas oracións e fórmulas tanto tempo atrás ignoradas e arrombadas. Cando os xeonllos comezaron a resentirse da posición, do tacto duro da madeira sobre a que pousaban, Mireia sentou no banco, respirou fondamente e polas fosas nasais entrou o recendo morno do incenso. Aquilo, as lembranzas pasadas desatadas, fixérona tremer.

6

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Kepa stood at the crossroads and looked out over the canopy. The sun was high, the sky was clear. Shadows darted across the canopy as a hawk glided lazily overhead, finding warm currents to lift it towards the scrublands. Kepa shook the knapsack off his shoulder and took out a canister. He gave it an experimental shake, and frowned. The news he had heard about the city had distracted him for most of the journey and he had forgotten to refill the water when he passed the river earlier that morning. Distraction was a dangerous preoccupation in this part of the world; he had to focus.

Turning his back to the forest, he moved towards the Burnt City.

The Burnt City, that’s what it was known as now. Nobody questioned it, not really, that’s what it was; a city that had burned. That fact had meant many things, including emptying the road he now walked on of its daily thoroughfare of people traveling to and from the Capital. It had provided a handy income for wandering musicians or traders, and once in the forest section, Kepa thought momentarily wistful, there was plenty of opportunity for young lovers to have some time alone, away from the crowds.

But even now, so far after the event, there was no proper explanation as to how it had actually happened. Of the people who had escaped, no two had the same story to tell – some say it was bandits, others that it was rebels purging the city, a revolt of the lower classes, an enemy invasion, the end of days…Nobody knew for certain and the tales kept twisting and turning, changing with each new teller.

There was only one thing everyone could agree on: nobody who stayed behind had survived.

What most also knew but didn’t say aloud was that nobody was allowed to return. Although nobody knew why or by whose orders.

Digging in his trouser pocket, Kepa took out a crumpled piece of paper. He carefully unraveled it. Although old, crumpled and smudged there were still some legible words:

****************** disaster ****************** the fire from the ground **********captured, **************** ***********   flames

It was the only piece of paperwork to escape the city, an official document by the texture of the paper. It was enough to finally spur him on towards the charred remains of the Burnt City.

 

6

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Incendio no Hospital de la Santa Creu i Sant Pau

Francesc non se afacía ao seu estado de cegueira. Durante os primeiros días non semellaba haber diferencia entre o día e a noite e os seus outros sentidos eran excesivamente sensibles a todo estímulo. Non durmía. Foi por iso polo que reparou axiña en que algo grave estaba a piques de acontecer moi preto, na mesma sala do hospital. Lume. E non era pequeno porque axiña chegaron a el, con claridade, o son das lapas a devorar o combustible e o tacto incomodísimo do fume no seu nariz.

Despois, a alarma e, case ao mesmo tempo, os pasos que se achegaron ao pé do seu leito, dende a súa dereita. Eran dúas persoas que o moveron de xeito torpe e o colocaron nunha cadeira de rodas. Francesc pensaba naquel intre que era parte do protocolo de evacuación, que seguramente todos os enfermos situados á súa dereita foran evacuados antes ca el, que era a súa quenda. Pero o certo é que até aquel momento Francesc non escoitara ningún son que lle advertira daqueles movementos. Era tarde, era lento nas súas observacións.

A doutora Rivelles, de garda aquela noite, entrou na sala dende o outro extremo, correndo e seguida de seis enfermeiros que trataron de organizar, entre a escuridade, a confusión e o fume, a evacuación dos enfermos con problemas para erguerse ou para orientarse por si mesmos e que pedían auxilio dende os leitos cunha expresión facial de evidente pánico. Os poucos que podían moverse sen axuda saíran ao exterior. Rivelles sabía por onde quería comezar e dirixiu a súa vista á liña esquerda de camas, ao fondo, para buscar coa mirada a Francesc no lugar onde debería estar agardando. Un leito baleiro sinala a posición.

Rivelles colocou un pano na boca e no nariz, coas súas mans brancas, e correu mentres as lapas do incendio empezaban a queimar o teito. Examina a información ao pé da cama, comproba a sospeita. “Paciente: 500A, Francesc Bastida. En custodia policial. Perigoso”. Á súa dereita cae unha lámpada medio consumida polo lume e foxe, é a última en abandonar o edificio. As sirenas do camión de bombeiros obrigan aos seus ollos a mirar cara a entrada do Hospital. Un pouco máis aló do camión dous homes camiñan empurrando unha cadeira de rodas, Francesc Bastida é introducido na parte de atrás dunha camioneta azul.

 

5

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Primero le saluda el alba, transformando la tímida luz de la luna en un interminable juego de brillos y sombras, claros y oscuros. Le trae al sol, hirviendo a lo lejos, acariciando su piel desnuda, blanca y desconocida.

Segundo el cielo, empujando a las nubes, acercándolas poco a poco como el humo de un gigantesco incendio, abrazándolo todo; roca y tierra, ladrillo y cristal.

Tercero el rumor familiar de hojas vibrando, del despertar de todas las criaturas bajo el manto azul, seguidoras del astro dorado.

Cuarto el dolor.

Quinto el miedo.

Sexto el rumor extraño de una nueva amenaza; su funesta llegada confirmada, su avance lento, definitivo e imparable.

Séptima la hora muerta, el olor del azufre, el tinte prematuro del cielo, el rojo imposible. Las nubes del luto, negras como almas; el retorno de la noche eterna.

Y por último la noche, la elegante dama que demora su llegada hasta el último momento, le acoge en sus oscuros brazos y funde nube y cielo en un sólo tono. La dama, fría como el hielo, alza el telón final ante los ojos de Francesc.

No ha abierto los ojos desde hace horas. Desde la roca en la que está sentado, en la cima de Sant Jeroni, un simple recorrido con la vista le habría mostrado la magnitud de lo ocurrido. Pero no necesita mirar para saber lo que ocurre a su alrededor. Siente como el virus se extiende a kilómetros de distancia; sabe que no puede pararlo.

Barcelona arde.

El resplandor de las llamas puede verse desde cientos de kilómetros, sirviendo de faro a los cientos de aparatos que sobrevuelan la ciudad condal. Han sido enviados para intentar apaciguar el fuego que consume los más de cien kilómetros cuadrados de superficie que ocupa el incendio, pero Francesc sabe que no va a servir de nada.

Porque el fuego que derrite el asfalto de la Avenida Diagonal, el que retuerce las ramas de los plátanos de sombra en las Ramblas, no es un fuego controlable. Al abrir los ojos, Francesc puede ver como muchos otros focos comienzan a arder en otros puntos; Girona, Lleida y Reus son las primeras en iluminar el cielo de tonos anaranjados. En poco más de unas horas, los focos se extienden hasta tocarse.

Cataluña arde.

Francesc sabe que falta muy poco; su momento casi ha llegado. Mientras las llamas avanzan rápidamente hacia él, vuelve a cerrar los ojos y sigue esperando.

5

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O último que fixo ao seu carón

Ela quería lembrar o seu nome como unha etiqueta coa que arquivar o seu recordo, pero hai días en que Katerina sinte que todo semella seguir igual. Iso prodúcelle unha sensación espantosa, horrible, de profundo desarraigo que non pode soportar. Como se todo o acontecido durante a súa vida non servise para nada e que non hai  implicacións posibles, encrucilladas aceptables que axuden a encarar as posibilidades máis tenras e apetecibles do futuro.

Coser foi o último que fixo ao seu carón. Sentou nunha cadeira de brazos moi semellante á que tiña había anos naquel piso de Varsovia onde todo comezara para eles dous. O último que fixo na súa presenza antes de coller o avión foi coser aproveitando a raxeira intensa do sol das tres e media da tarde que entraba pola xanela. El estaba alí mentres ela tentaba coser, cunha corrección aceptable, un parche de Negu Gorriak na súa cazadora negra, aquela que a nai insistira en pagar había anos e que até o momento non vestía a miúdo porque pensaba que, malia que lle gustaba moito o deseño, a parte de abaixo, ao abrochar a cremalleira, non lle sentaba ben.

Katerina non puido comprobar se el a miraba namorado ou se tamén empregaba, esforzado nalgunha angueira, a luz intensa que quentaba as rúas dos arrabaldes de Varsovia. Quizais Francesc só miraba máis aló dos vidros da xanela, quizais imaxinaba o que farían á súa volta ao final da primavera cando as flores reinasen nos xardíns do pazo de Wilanów e Ulises os mirase, gardián, dende os frescos das paredes. Aquilo foi o último que fixo ao seu carón, coser.

Despois, ao gardar os aparellos de costura no seu lugar, levantouse poñendo a cazadora, deulle un bico, unha aperta que aínda lembra e saíu da casa dicíndolle que o amaba, que o quería, sen saber que era para sempre, que xa nunca endexamais volvería apreixar o seu corpo coa intensidade do amor que marcha pensando que a eternidade é medible. Quería lembrar o seu nome como unha simple etiqueta sen sospeitar que algún día recibiría uns datos asépticos que a axudarían a localizalo nun hospital de Barcelona: Paciente 500AC.

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Subject:  500AC

Location: Zone 56

Gender: Female

Height: 5 foot 6 inches

Weight: 6 stone 10

Hair: black

Eyes: green

Abnormalities:

  1. Wrist stamp, left arm.
  2. Several burn marks evident on upper and lower torso.
  3. Cominnuted fracture of the left tibia.

Conclusion: No major defects evident that could negatively impact study.

Approval for case file number: 79:20:NZ

Approval granted by Agent Francesc

Medic Report for case file 79:20:NZ

Initial report: Subject responded well to procedure. Visible burns and minor lacerations noted in pre-op were superficial and had no impact on surgery

Operation proceeded as expected and complied with the guidelines submitted to and approved by the supervisory committee.

Subject 500AC is the first person to undergo treatment using Substance Q. As such, detailed analysis of the treatment has been recorded and collected by the supervisory committee.

This medic report is for general personnel with appropriate clearance. It is to be used for training and quality control purposes.

Week One (after the initial operation): Subject 500AC has responded well to the augmentations. No visible rejection has occurred. Subject is still under complete sedation, as per supervisory committee order #17. All life signs are normal.

Week Two: Sedation has been alleviated and subject 500AC has begun to respond to stimulus. Eye movement, blinking and facial twitches have been witnessed in response to auditory and visual stimuli.

Week Three: Subject has begun to communicate. No prior knowledge to her entry to the facility has been displayed. Further testing is needed to verify whether this is the result of Substance Q or due to the accident that caused the previous injuries (see Abnormalities).

There is a progressive development of sensation from the head to the upper torso. The lower torso is still paralyzed.

Week 4: Full movement has been regained in the upper body. The lower body shows signs of sensation. Blood and urine tests have returned with expected results. The program is moving along as planned. Complete recovery due within original timeframe.

Month 3: Pain killers were administered when subject displayed discomfort in areas localized around the augmentations. The amount and frequency of the extra medication affected data collection and had to be reduced.

Subject became aggressive and appropriate sedatives were administered. Subject was then restrained in accordance with supervisory committee order #74 in order to evaluate project status.

A second operation was required to examine the full extent of damage. Erosion had occurred between the connective tissues, presumably due to underdeveloped Substance Q.

Case file 79:20:NZ has been delayed until further notice.

5

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Subject:  500AC

Location: Zone 56

Gender: Female

Height: 5 foot 6 inches

Weight: 6 stone 10

Hair: black

Eyes: green

Abnormalities:

  1. Wrist stamp, left arm.
  2. Several burn marks evident on upper and lower torso.
  3. Cominnuted fracture of the left tibia.

Conclusion: No major defects evident that could negatively impact study.

Approval for case file number: 79:20:NZ

Approval granted by Agent Francesc

Medic Report for case file 79:20:NZ

Initial report: Subject responded well to procedure. Visible burns and minor lacerations noted in pre-op were superficial and had no impact on surgery

Operation proceeded as expected and complied with the guidelines submitted to and approved by the supervisory committee.

Subject 500AC is the first person to undergo treatment using Substance Q. As such, detailed analysis of the treatment has been recorded and collected by the supervisory committee.

This medic report is for general personnel with appropriate clearance. It is to be used for training and quality control purposes.

Week One (after the initial operation): Subject 500AC has responded well to the augmentations. No visible rejection has occurred. Subject is still under complete sedation, as per supervisory committee order #17. All life signs are normal.

Week Two: Sedation has been alleviated and subject 500AC has begun to respond to stimulus. Eye movement, blinking and facial twitches have been witnessed in response to auditory and visual stimuli.

Week Three: Subject has begun to communicate. No prior knowledge to her entry to the facility has been displayed. Further testing is needed to verify whether this is the result of Substance Q or due to the accident that caused the previous injuries (see Abnormalities).

There is a progressive development of sensation from the head to the upper torso. The lower torso is still paralyzed.

Week 4: Full movement has been regained in the upper body. The lower body shows signs of sensation. Blood and urine tests have returned with expected results. The program is moving along as planned. Complete recovery due within original timeframe.

Month 3: Pain killers were administered when subject displayed discomfort in areas localized around the augmentations. The amount and frequency of the extra medication affected data collection and had to be reduced.

Subject became aggressive and appropriate sedatives were administered. Subject was then restrained in accordance with supervisory committee order #74 in order to evaluate project status.

A second operation was required to examine the full extent of damage. Erosion had occurred between the connective tissues, presumably due to underdeveloped Substance Q.

Case file 79:20:NZ has been delayed until further notice.

4

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Amb serra d’or els angelets serraren
eixos turons per fer-vos un palau (…)

Jacint Verdaguer, 1880

Francesc despierta de nuevo en la penumbra de aquel cuarto, su cuerpo aún entumecido por el dolor. Siente crujir sus huesos al incorporarse, y de pronto la sensación le resulta familiar. No sabe si es ese crujido sordo, o la sensación que tiene al notar como cada hueso encaja en su sitio, pero mientras termina de levantarse y comienza a caminar por la habitación, sabe que hay algo extrañamente conocido en todas esas sensaciones.

Descubre que ha llegado a uno de los extremos de la habitación cuando sus manos, extendidas frente a él, golpean la fría superficie de la pared. Palpando en la oscuridad, sus dedos adivinan un cambio en la pared que debe ser una puerta de madera. Francesc se toma su tiempo y apoya su rostro en ella, sintiendo la textura del roble en su piel. Aún le parece distinguir el olor del barniz, tan diferente del resto de olores estancos en la habitación.

Al empujar la gran puerta la luz le ciega durante unos instantes, y una dulce brisa acaricia primero su rostro, y se enrosca por sus extremidades desnudas, haciéndole sentir un agradable escalofrío. Un escalofrío que le recuerda de nuevo que está vivo. De pronto siente la urgencia de salir al exterior, y comienza a caminar cada vez más rápido, a medida que su vista se adapta al brillo del día. Sus piernas entumecidas vuelven a funcionar de nuevo, y puede sentir su fuerza al subir los escalones que le conducen a una gran plaza circular.

Ahora sabe donde está, aunque nunca antes ha visitado el lugar. Los recuerdos vienen a su mente, en blanco y negro, y  al mismo tiempo descubre por qué el crujir de sus huesos le resultaba tan familiar. Recuerda que ese ruido es el mismo ruido que hacían las piezas de un puzle recién comprado al encajar. Un puzle que le regalaron por su cumpleaños cuando no era más que un crío. Sonríe al recordar el olor del cartón, la textura y forma de cada pieza, y sobretodo, la ilustración en la caja de cartón, con la inscripción “Monasteri de Montserrat” en letras negras. Al mirar a su alrededor, se da cuenta de que reconoce cada centímetro de la fachada del imponente edificio frente al que se encuentra.

Hace años jugó una y otra vez a reconstruir pieza a pieza esa fachada, memorizando fragmentos en blanco y negro que ahora redescubre teñidos de tonos dorados. De niño siempre había soñado con visitar ese lugar.  Ahora, sintiéndose infinitamente pequeño frente a la increíble estructura de piedra, flotando de una forma mágica entre rocas y nubes, no puede evitar preguntarse si todavía está soñando.

4

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–          Another?

–          Another.

–          How old?

–          Late teens.

 

–          Conditi#*?

 

–          ##**@####*#

 

–          #@#*ght?

–          Five foot six, #**###**

–          **####?

–          brow#

–          ######

–          ######

White noise fades in and out until the silence of darkness finally falls.

Everyone is marked somewhere.

A banjo plays.

Blinking, she opens her eyes. The room is blindingly white.  In front of her there is a short, old woman sitting on a crisp white bed. Everything is white: the room, the bed, the walls. Everything is pristine and blank.

From the old woman’s chin a long, grey beard grows, curling at the end where it sweeps between a pair of bare feet.  Her teeth grip a pipe, and a ruffled pink blouse explodes from beneath a drab pair of blue dungarees. The face of a grandfather clock swings from her neck by thick, frayed rope.

“Well hello, dearie. It’s a long way from home you are.”

Stepping down from the bed, the old woman edges closer, wearing a disconcerting smile.

“What is gone may never leave. Everyone is marked somewhere. And you’ve been marked. Oh yes, you mark my words.”

The white of the room flares brightly, blinding her again.

–          ####

–          ###.

–          **##?

–          **## increased to **##.

 

–          Conditi#*?

 

–          #tabilizin#

 

–          Can you **##?

–          No response. Wa##

–          Can you **##me?

–          Pupils responding. Pressure back to normal.

–          Do we proceed?

–          Hmm. Muscle is still good. Not too much nerve damage.

–          I would prefer a more suitable candidate.

–          Her city burned. You know what that means.

–          Hmm. And what she carried? Has it been identified?

–          There has been no reclamation. She is nobody.

Do we proceed?

–          …Begin

Darkness closes in again.

The last thing she hears is the whine of an electric saw.

Everyone is marked somewhere.

4

  By

In the bunker of Montjuïc

It was still night and the Castle of Montjuïc overlooked the city with its stubborn look of suspicion, with the attitude of those whose only aim is to stand there with an aura of annoyance. In the bunker beneath the granite and slate mountain, the Commander of the infantry corps was standing for about thirty minutes, the time his speech lasted, and would remain standing during the brief round of questions that the members of the General Staff had presented to clarify what happened in Banyoles street last Monday at midday.

The expression in General Roel’s face did not change during the brief monologue of the Commander. Once considered the operative failed to intercept and eliminate Francesc Bastida before he arrived in Barcelona, and because of the danger that implied by the presence of such serious subversive elements in the capital, a decision was made to make him disappear sharply. The order to eliminate the target within a period not exceeding four hours was transmitted to the command of the special operating service of Barcelona .

When the command was about to carry out the action, they received two notifications that forced them to abort the mission. The Intelligence Services warned of the presence in Banyoles street, where the operation was to be developed, of those two police officers previously in charge of monitoring Bastida’s movements. In addition, the members of the special forces operative, hidden in Travessera de Gràcia, identified two people carrying a homemade bazooka, at a few meters distance from their position.

The two armed people advanced within less than a hundred meters from Banyoles street and fired a projectile that left one casualty, agent Pujol, and several wounded. These include agent Cabanillas, the employee of a burger bar and Bastida. Both the police and the bartender had already made statements at the police station, while Francesc Bastida, in custody at the Hospital de la Santa Creu i Sant Pau, suffered severe injuries that make his withdrawn to justice impossible.

Regarding the responsibility for the attack in Banyoles street, the first hypothesis suggest that the responsible are a rival group, not very numerous, but dynamic and with important contacts abroad. This faction was banned some months ago after the meeting in which Francesc Bastida emerged as the reinforced and undisputed leader of the Apparatus.