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By the stream (English Version)

martes, 10 de septiembre de 2019



"Yes, hello, tell me?"

"Luis, darling. I'm waiting for you. I'm so eager to see you... I'm by the stream, down the slope. In the shadow of the oak tree that turns off when the clouds charge against it..."

"Hello?"

"Luis, it's me. I forgot to tell you how much I love you. I'm right where the current stops. At the stream's mouth, remember?"

"I am sitting on the stone that has moss and has a contoured shape that lefted black and green prints on your pants, the one that if you close one eye and tilt the head stops being a stone and looks like a frog belly up. It's surprising. Here we held hands the first time. Here we declared ourselves after you covered me with kisses... The stream now carries hardly any water, you know?"

"Excuse me, I can't hear anything... Who is it?"

"It's me, Carla, can you hear me? I'm waiting for you here, darling, our stone is still just as comfortable. I remember that we jumped from here when the flow overflowed and the stream looked like a living and fresh pool. How the water was shining when the leaves of the beech trees fell, when the oak tree boasted of its reflection in the calm channel... Not anymore. Now the stream is opaque, sad, and the swaying of the water is pasty and slow, because of the mud. But continues to reach here the echo of the students on campus, and if I close my eyes I can see the two central buildings, the residence and even the window of my room. I also see the park and the poorly lit track leading to the library."

"Excuse me, I'm going to have to hang up. I can't understand anything."

"Excuse me, I'm gonna have to hang up. I can't get to understand anything."

"Oh, Luis, no. No, please don't hang up. I shouldn't have stayed in the library so late. I should have listened to you, darling. On the way out, the van was already there. It followed me... I swear that as soon as I realized it, I started running as fast as I could, but the wheels squeaked and blocked my escape. First I heard the door slamming from the driver.  Immediately, the sliding door opened in front of me. I was petrified when three men came out of it... The one with the cap with the white eagle, remember? The guy with the broken tooth that you told that day to stop looking at me... They rushed at me, Luis. I wanted to fight, to shout, "Help, help me, help! One sealed my mouth with his fingers. I kicked, darling, I kicked until I ran out of strength. Another one hit me in the stomach. They put me in the van: tainted weed smell, pestilent alcohol, blows, pain, anguish -help, help me, help! Terror, rage, impotence, metal in my mouth... I swallow my own blood, stabbing, beating, burning... Stop the hands now, finish the bodies now, God, help me! Let them finish their mouths, let them finish... Rammings, one after the other, in turns, a hell of resignation, repugnance until the end, sticks and kicks. I believed I could go home, Luis, I believed I could come back to you, love... But my blood flowed under his wrath, I was like a broken bundle under them, an old torn punching bag, red, ripped apart."

"Carla, for God's sake, is that you? This is going to drive me crazy..."

"Oh, yes, yes, my love, it's me. You're not crazy. Don't hang up! I'll scream louder! Can you come and get me? They left me here, at the bottom of the stream! It's been so long since the beech trees were guillotined... If you pay attention, half sunk in the riverbed, you can see the rest of my hand. I am a silhouette, I am the silver flash... A kind of ghostly ring over the frog stone... Just like the stream, I have also changed. But here I wait for you. I want to see you so much..."
One click. An end of call.
A pause. A new tone.

"Yes, tell me, for God's sake!"

"Luis, darling. I'm waiting for you. I'm so eager to see you... I'm by the stream, down the slope. In the shadow of the oak tree that turns off when the clouds charge against it..."


End

A story by Maríe Yuset © 1909101886164

Maríe Yuset (1977). Since childhood I have lived with Fear. I know her face. I know her voice. She has dominated me for as long as I can remember and I know she is determined to stay. But as I advance along this path of writing, I can proudly say that I have found a weapon capable of facing it: when the pencil takes hold of my hand and the blank sheet of paper of my thoughts, Fear falls silent, Fear hides... It is an ephemeral moment, but glorious. Then, I stop fearing it. And it is Fear that fears me.