Revista literati by Colegio Williams de Cuernavaca

Agradecemos a Alejandro Williams y al profesor Alfonso García Williams por la publicación de la presente revista.

Año17 no.1 Cuernavaca Publicación anual del Colegio Williams de Cuernavaca. Queda prohibido la reproducción de este material sin la autorización de los editores o los directivos de este. /Junio/2017. Luna 32, Col. Jardines de Cuernavaca, C.P. 62360, Cuernavaca, Morelos, México. Tels. +52 (777) 316-04-67 y 322-36-40

Imagina un espacio en el que se juntan dos universos para dar lugar a la mas luminosa de las creaciones, que si bien no puedes tocar, el embeleso de su existir te mece en un vaivén de posibilidades, ritmos, de sentimientos, y deseos. La revista que ahora tienes en tus manos, querido lector, es un tesoro para nuestra Preparatoria porque es ese espacio en el que lo real y lo inexistente danzan a un mismo ritmo, el que marcan las emociones de nuestros alumnos. Sumergirte en estas páginas equivale a recibir el alma de estos jóvenes que se atrevieron a eternizar con tinta y luz el fluir de su consciencia. Cada año, con el llegar de la primavera, las musas visitan nuestro colegio. La recopilación de poemas que de esta visita surgen, pretende ser un tributo a la belleza del lenguaje y es también ¿por qué no? el deseo de capturar la fugacidad del instante mismo en que nuestros alumnos muestran el reflejo de sus propios ojos, y entonces, como bien lo dijo Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer… ¡hay poesía! Hortensia Ruiz Magallanes Directora de Preparatoria.

Alejandro es un joven que se conoce muy bien así mismo, sabedor de sus cualidades es capaz de sorprendernos en diferentes ámbitos, desde su forma de pensar hasta el acabado de un trabajo asignado. Se enfrenta a la vida siempre con una sonrisa, la cual le permite a veces verse como desinteresado, sin embargo refleja que no es el momento para hacerlo y cuando este llegue será capaz de integrar sus conocimientos e investigaciones para hacer algo digno de él. por Víctor Sócrates Ovando Villanueva

Me atrevería a decir Que te quiero, pero, No me atrevería a decir Que te amo, porque, de atreverme A decirlo, me atrevería también A creerlo.

Te quiero, es cierto Pero no te quiero querer Pues si te quisiera querer Te querría como nunca te han querido Y quererte así como quiero Es distinto de como puedo.

Divina ordenanza el hallarte, Al arte de tu mundo Cáustico caos Que irradia y que quema, Cruel inocencia Que quema y que mata.

En tu voz, La paz que tanto buscaba El universo en tus palabras Incontables realidades revelan De lo que es y lo que puede ser, Lo que somos y lo que seremos

En tu piel, Todos los caminos recorridos Esos que llevan a ti Y aquellos que de ti me alejan Pues la vida entera dejan Descaradamente en mis manos

Tus ojos, la pluma Tu mirada, el más hermoso poema De versos, un millar en un mirar Pues discurren en lenguas foráneas a la lengua misma Escriben de mis alegrías, desgracias y tragedias O quizás de aquellos otros que no sucumben a la cobardía.

Cuando conocí a Oscar supe que era una persona profunda, alguien que tienes que tomarte mucho tiempo para conocer. Analiza cada situación de manera diferente. Sabe decir lo que piensa sin confundirte. Es alguien muy metódico pero también, de vez en cuando deja que su corazón tome las decisiones. Es muy inteligente, le gusta hacer crecer su conocimiento. Aunque puede parecer frío, cuando quiere, lo hace desde lo más profundo y sincero de su corazón y lo hace como nadie. El mejor amigo que alguien puede tener. por Haide Toledo

El Cronรณgrafo Inherente encantamiento de recordar amargado. Vestigios del tiempo, mismos que brevemente anunciados connotaban impericia, en palabra y boca de ambos.

Tentando a la inexperiencia, estremeciendo mi mano.

Singlando rumbo al origen, mar de memorias, buscando las posibles fundaciones que ocultas en el pasado te llamaban por tu nombre.

Te llamaban por pecado.

Me duele contar las veces que problemas levantaron.

Jamás quise ser engrane de un reloj viejo y cansado, que repite inoportuno las horas de malos ratos.

Nunca pedí ser arena que mide efímeros trazos, dentro dos bulbos de cristal, marcados por días vanos.

Pero yo soy el cronógrafo, erudito de intervalos, comediógrafo de crónicas y reliquia de los años.

De reminiscencias crueles en las que te he lastimado.

Y ninguna olvidaré, porque a eso estoy condenado.

“Lissie pop”, como la llaman sus amigas, ha crecido en una familia de la que ha aprendido a vivir la felicidad de la mano de la responsabilidad y la libertad, una alumna que ha buscado crecer en el perfil del Bachillerato Internacional y se le puede ver sonriente o preocupada, pero siempre dispuesta a dar lo mejor de sí en cada uno de los retos que enfrenta. Su mejor cualidad: la honestidad y una sonrisa que contagia y da confianza. por Víctor Sócrates Ovando Villanueva

De l'Arc de Triomphe, le monument au soldat, à la Place de la Concorde de Paris, la place, la plus importante.

D'avoir de grands magasins Et forme partie de l'histoire. Où courageux bataillons marchèrent, après l’interminable guerre.

Mais au printemps, Il n'y a pas de jour triste. Parce qu'il y a des touristes, et de l’amour dans les bancs.

Tous les jours sont comme ça, À l'avenue de la capitale. Un bruit-ci, un bruit-là, Sans tout le trafic assourdissant.

De cette manière est le printemps. dans l’avenue française. Où tranquillement je suis resté, Aux champs Élysées.

Les gens disent que l'amour est exigeant,

La tête m’a dit :

Que c’est pour les déments.

Cours d'ici !

Qu’après un certain temps,

Mais, mon cœur,

On se retrouve seul.

il était heureux.

Mais, j´ai dit : mais comment ?

C'était quand je me suis rendue compte,

On suppose que c'est le meilleur

Que vous aviez idéalisé.

que vous tombiez amoureux

L´amour est une constante guerre

et vous serez aimé par une autre personne.

Que le cœur et la tête demande.

Alors ils ont dit :

J'étais totalement informé

C’est très difficile.

Du mal de tête

L´amour est une constante guerre

et de mon cœur, la douleur

Entre le cœur et la tête.

que se produirait.

Le jour suivant dans la classe

Puis, ils ont dit, avec effort est possible

Je vous ai demandé votre nom

Mais, tout le monde riait :

Et à dix heures au matin

Il est question de faire l'impossible !

J’attends sur votre balcon.

Je leur ai dit que je recevrais Disent-ils à nouveau,

Juan Manuel Rodríguez

Cuando uno platica con Juan Manuel se da cuenta de que es lo que llamamos “un alma vieja”. Es muy maduro, sabe perfectamente lo que quiere y cuando lo quiere y sin embargo es sencillo, le gusta aprender, está atento a lo que pasa a su alrededor. Es culto e inteligente. Nos ha sorprendido por la maestría con que maneja la palabra escrita tanto en español como en inglés. Dos años consecutivos ganador del concurso literario nos hacen pensar que ha descubierto su vocación a muy temprana edad y le deseamos una carrera dedicada a la escritura, llena de éxitos. por Rocío Ávila

El vaso de café entre mis manos está frío, así como la mañana en la que me veo envuelto el día de hoy. Al despertar, una fuerte brisa de aire gélido se avecinó violentamente a través del alféizar de mi ventana, provocando un estremecimiento que retumbó en mis oídos. Sin darle importancia alguna, tomé un baño caliente, me vestí, tomé mi mochila y me dirigí a la estación de trenes. Tal y como lo hago todos los días. Es lo único que he hecho durante los últimos meses. Desde que llegué a Madrid, asustado y vacío, mi única vocación ha sido caminar desde mi departamento hasta la vieja y abandonada estación. Tal vez las chirriantes y oxidadas vías no atraigan a muchos residentes, pero para mí, un melancólico y aburrido turista, es el lugar más honesto y suntuoso que hay en todo Madrid. Todo empezó el día en el que se me acabó la leche. Acababa de llegar a Madrid, llevaba tan sólo una semana rentando el departamento y me había quedado sin mi vaso matutino de lactosa, por lo que me dirigí a la puerta de mi vecino. En cuanto se presentó ante mí, luciendo exhausto y alterado, se percató del estado ermitaño en el que había estado viviendo y me exigió dar un recorrido por la ciudad. Sacó un papel y, rápidamente, anotó las atracciones más apetecibles de la ciudad: restaurantes, galerías, museos, parques. La estación se encontraba en el último lugar. No esperaba mucho de ella. En cuanto llegué, una sensación de soledad y terror invadió cada célula de mi cuerpo y quise huir en cuanto pudiera. No me importó cuán apreciada era por León, mi vecino, así que decidí volver a mi departamento sin siquiera caminar por las chirriantes y abandonadas vías. El segundo día fue diferente. Opté por visitar las galerías restantes de la lista y, en cuanto terminé, quise darle una segunda oportunidad a la terminal. No podía ser tan mala, ¿o sí? Tal vez, sorpresivamente, me terminaría encariñando con los crujientes escaños, los cuales parecían no haber sido pintados en décadas; o con las herrumbrosas vías, rústicas y estropeadas. No me equivocaba.

A partir de ese día, me despierto con el ánimo de encontrarme sentado en una de las bancas, ansioso por presenciar el arrebol que se forma a la distancia; tibio y acogedor. El silencio que se apodera de la terminal es crudo y reconfortante a la vez; tanto que he llegado a recordar los momentos más memorables e inmarcesibles de mi vida. He incluso llegado a rememorar las crudas y afligidas sombras que aún me acechan. Hoy me encuentro sentado en el asiento que otorga la vista perfecta hacia el torbellino de colores que se apodera de la ciudad. Pero hoy es diferente. El cielo está nublado y frío, llevo un buen rato esperando a que salga el sol y no hay nada más que espera; una desalentadora y apesadumbrada espera. —Disculpa, ¿esperas a alguien? —me dice una voz femenina a mis espaldas. Su inesperada apariencia me hace sobresaltarme. Me veo entorpecido, atónito. Por lo que tenía entendido, nadie viene a esta estación más que yo. Sin embargo, aquí está, parada justo detrás de mí, preguntando si el asiento junto a mí está vacío. Prefiero no imaginarme su aspecto, por lo que me vuelvo hacia la voz y me llevo una gran sorpresa para cuando mi vista se encuentra con la de ella. No es por su ondulado y oscuro cabello a los hombros, tampoco por el hermoso azul de sus ojos o por sus rosados y humectados labios; ni siquiera es por sus prominentes y anchas caderas. Es porque es idéntica a ella. Todo, a excepción de su voz, me remite a ese momento en la cálida y húmeda tarde de junio del 2009 en el lago de nuestro vecindario, cuando nuestros cuerpos, empapados y extasiados, se entrelazaron entre sí y formaron un sinfín de espléndidas melodías; me remite a las suaves e interminables tardes con ella, llenas de risas y alegría; pero, sobretodo, me remite al roce de mis dedos contra sus mejillas, blanquecinas; contra sus labios, rosados y delgados.

Me remite al último día que la vi con vida, justo antes de verla alejarse por la carretera tras una fuerte pelea entre ambos. ¿Quién iba a imaginar que un par de palabras la llevarían a alejarse de mi vida y, eventualmente, a la muerte? Ese mismo espectro de culpa y aflicción es el que aún me persigue, insistente y obstinado. —¿Está ocupado este asiento? —me vuelve a preguntar la muchacha, lo cual hace que despierte de mi ensimismamiento. Extrañamente, esta vez, su voz me parece un poco familiar. —Eh… no, no. Toma asiento —le respondo carraspeando, a la vez que me hago a un lado para cederle el lugar. La bella muchacha se limita a sonreírme y se posiciona a un lado mío. Es entonces cuando me pregunto si debería dirigirle la palabra o simplemente alejarme de aquí en cuanto pueda. Su encanto me distrae y hace de mis pensamientos algo agitado y difuso. No puedo pensar claro. La incomodidad y el silencio se prolongan conforme transcurre el tiempo, el cual parece durar una eternidad. Ambos, envueltos en un halo de mudez y confusión, callamos y nos dedicamos a observar el grisáceo cielo que opaca todo Madrid. Después de seis largos años, me parece increíble y casi de ensueño encontrarme en una situación así. Su aspecto, su caminar, sus caderas e incluso su voz, me llevan inmediatamente al más bizarro y descabellado pensamiento: Camila está viva. Debo estar perdiendo mi cabeza. Estoy fuera de mis cabales. Las tardes que paso en esta deslucida estación me han hecho perder la cabeza y ver cosas que no debería estar viendo. Tengo miedo. Miedo de perder la cordura que aún me queda y engullirme en un oscuro y profundo abismo de locura. Mis manos comienzan a sudar en cuanto la idea aterriza en mi mente. Le temo a la muerte, al olvido, a la traición y a la mentira. Pero, más que a nada, le temo a la locura.

Me pongo de pie rápidamente, decidido a irme hacia mi departamento y encerrarme hasta que vuelva a tener conciencia plena de lo que acaba de suceder. Ni siquiera me dispongo a despedirme o mirarla a los ojos. Ya he dado un par de zancadas cuando, casi tropezando, me detengo tras escuchar lo que acaba de decir: —Entonces a esto te has dedicado tras el accidente. No puedo creer lo que acabo de escuchar. La estupefacción se adueña de mi ser y no me permite razonar ante lo que estoy viviendo justo ahora. A pesar de eso, intento mantener la compostura y poso mi vista en la espalda de Camila… o quién sea que está sentada frente a mí. —Perdón… ¿te conozco? —inquiero, murmurando. Puedo ver como el torso de la mujer gira y, antes de que me dé cuenta, su mirada ya está posada en mí, escudriñando hasta el más profundo y escondido pedazo de mi ser. Conozco esa mirada. La reconocería en cualquier lado. Es Camila. —No puedes olvidarte de ese día, ¿cierto? —se le nota triste y consternada. Es exactamente la misma mirada que hacía cuando estaba en problemas; cuando su madre enfermó gravemente; cuando esperaba, ansiosa, la calificación de un examen. Cuando se alejó de mí. —No sé de qué me hablas —me acerqué, lentamente, hacia ella. No estaba seguro si era un producto de mi imaginación o una broma bastante pesada, pero quería asegurarme de mantener una distancia considerable—. Estás muerta. Ante mi comentario, Camila agacha la mirada y percibo una ligera mueca en su blanquecino y terso rostro.

—Es gracioso, ¿no crees? —me dice, sonriente. Mientras sus ojos, tan azulados y brillantes como los recuerdo, se iluminan, me dice lo siguiente—: Cómo a veces nos aferramos tanto a algo que nos olvidamos de vivir, pero, en cuanto lo dejamos ir, nuestra vida parece volverse… —¿Insignificante? —sugiero. —Vacía —complementa—. Nuestras vidas parecen volverse vacías en cuanto nos dejamos de afianzar a ese lazo. Es lo que pasa contigo, Aarón. Sé que será difícil dejar ir esa aflicción; dejar ir el dolor y la culpa… —Tú no sabes lo que es —vocifero—, tú no sabes lo que es ser yo. No tienes idea de lo que he aguantado, de lo que he hecho para intentar olvidar la culpa y el dolor… No tienes idea de cuán difícil ha sido vivir sin ti. —Tienes razón. No lo sé. Pero sí te puedo decir que, después de dejarme ir, encontrarás algo con lo que te llenarás de plenitud… de felicidad —me sonríe nuevamente mientras se pone de pie. Esto no puede ser verdad. Es un reflejo de mi imaginación. Sí, debe ser eso. —No puedo, Camila. He intentado todo… he hecho cosas inimaginables con tal de olvidarlo. Venir a Madrid ha sido la última opción, y esta terminal de trenes abandonada me ha hecho de más ayuda de la que crees —me acerco a ella, desesperado y exhausto—. Por favor, haz que se vaya esta culpa; que se vaya este entristecimiento, esta pesadumbre. De lo contrario, no creo poder resistir. Agacho la mirada como muestra de desesperanza y de angustia. De pronto, siento una suave brisa rozarme la mejilla, delicada y lentamente. Al alzar el mentón, me percato de que Camila acaricia mi mejilla cual madre al cuidado de su bebé. Esa acción, tan elocuente y real, me hace querer envolverla en mis brazos y nunca soltarla.

Nunca.

—Para poder vivir en paz, debes perdonarte a ti mismo. Así como yo te he perdonado, quiero que te perdones tú, ¿de acuerdo? —me suplica. —Eso intentaré… —No quiero que digas eso. Quiero que me lo prometas. Estoy bien, Aarón. Todo está bien —me indica con un tono calmado. Es lo único que quiero escuchar por ahora. Es lo único que quiero imaginar y sentir en este momento. No me importa si es real o no. Para mí lo es, y mientras yo quiera que lo sea, lo será hasta que yo diga la contrario. Hasta que me perdone a mí mismo. —Quédate un rato más conmigo, ¿sí? —le ruego. Camila, feliz, asiente con la cabeza y ambos nos sentamos en la vieja banca. Quiero que este momento dure para siempre. Que se congele el tiempo, justo aquí, justo ahora, justo así: ella, tomándome la mano; yo, admirando su presencia y su inefable belleza. Camila tiene razón. Debo perdonarme a mí mismo para poder seguir adelante, pero, ahora mismo, no quiero hacer nada más que acoger este instante. —Tengo que irme —me dice después de un largo rato. Sus ojos se posan en los míos, ansiosos y tristes a la vez. Sé que es hora de que se vaya, y tal vez me la pueda encontrar en un momento dado, así que no la contradigo. Acepto su decisión, la envuelvo entre mis brazos y le beso la sien. —Vuelve pronto, ¿sí? —le digo. Camila sonríe. —Ya no creo que sea necesario —expresa con lentitud. Confundido y alegre a la vez, le abrazo una última vez y le susurro en el oído cuán grande es mi amor hacia ella.

—Gracias —murmuro, ante lo cual ella sonríe y sostiene fuertemente mi mano. Una vez más, tal y como hace seis años, se aleja de mí y comienza a caminar. Pero esta vez es diferente. Su figura, esbelta y grácil, se mueve con elegancia hacia la puerta que lleva hacia la salida de la terminal. La observo con calidez, atónito y agradecido. Mientras mis pensamientos se dibujan en líneas rectas y bien definidas por primera vez en mucho tiempo, Camila se vuelve hacia mí y me observa. Yo la observo. La diferencia es que ya no la miro como solía mirarla en las fotos: con sentimiento de falla y tristeza. Esta vez, la miro con dicha y regocijo. Con amor. —Mira —me dice—, se acaba de formar el arrebol que tanto te gusta. Volteo hacia el cielo, el cual parece un lienzo al que se le fueron arrojados varios colores: anaranjado, rosado, amarillo y una pizca de azul. Ahí está, ante mis ojos, el arrebol que había estado esperando anhelosamente desde hacía un buen rato. Una mueca se dibuja en mi rostro, y quiero que Camila me vea como ella me recordaba: feliz. Pero, para cuando giro a verla, ya es muy tarde. Ya no está. La sonrisa se me desdibuja en cuanto ya no la veo. La impotencia quiere invadirme una vez más, pero le hice una promesa y estoy dispuesto a hacer lo que sea con tal de cumplirla. No permitiré que mi vida se torne en añicos. Para poder vivir en paz, debes perdonarte a ti mismo.

Repito sus palabras una y otra vez dentro de mi cabeza, y no sólo la veo a ella, sino que también veo todas sus facetas y toda su luminiscencia; la veo corriendo por el jardín; veo los rulos de su cabellera mezclándose con el aire; veo su sonrisa, más brillante que todas las estrellas juntas; veo su lamento, proveniente de la agonía y la soledad; me veo a mí mismo, limpiándole las lágrimas y acariciando sus mejillas. Veo a la Camila que veía antes. El remolino de colores ante mí es tan hermoso, tan frágil, que me quedaré un rato más a apreciar su hermosura. Probablemente ya no necesite venir a esta estación para observarlo. Probablemente lo pueda ver desde otro lugar, más lúcido y vivo. Probablemente ya me he perdonado a mí mismo. Ya no hay más sombras. No más sombras afligidas.

Edgar tiene muchas cualidades, es simpático, inteligente, honesto, siempre te la pasas bien con él. Es muy buen amigo. Siempre está haciendo chistes y hablando de foot-ball. Su risa es única y contagia. Tiene mucho talento para los deportes, en especial el parkour. Es humilde y le gusta ayudar a los demás. Tiene buen gusto para los libros. por sus compañeros de 3B

David es simpático, divertido, dulce y buen amigo. Ha ido aprendiendo a no ser tan reservado y ahora es más abierto y sociable. La palabra que mejor lo define es “diplomático” sabe qué decir en el momento justo y es siempre respetuoso en su actitud. Tiene claro quién es y es fiel a ello. No busca quedar bien, simplemente es original. Es inteligente y lo explota. Y aunque es callado, si uno tiene ganas de conocerlo, se da cuenta de la fiesta que lleva adentro. por sus compañeros de 3A

The first thing I remember was waking up in a strange cold place. I glanced up the sky and the first thing I saw was how far I was from the space traffic and from the nearest fuel station of the planet, which can only be seen as a silhouette on the distance. The tundra I was standing on was starting to melt; I could feel the rough rocky ground beneath me as spring was starting to arrive and the first flowers began to sprout from underneath the snow. When I started to hoist myself up I realized I couldn't sense my left forearm but when I looked I remembered that I had lost my forearm years ago, and I had prosthetic bionic replacement instead, which had its advantages like not feeling any pain like when I got shot by a member of the Lynch family last year. My head was pounding too; I could feel it was synchronized with my heartbeat. I brushed my scalp to check why my head was pounding so hard but it must be that I had taken a hit with a blunt object because it hurt when I touched it. I suppose it must be the reason why I was rendered unconscious and I couldn't remember what happened. Besides the hit I took on my head I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have taken too much damage. It seems I have received two bullets on my bionic arm and it wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t functioning properly, perhaps it could have save me from getting shot. On the brighter side by what Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m seeing now this was one of the most gruesome events I survived. It was a bloodbath on a huge plain area surrounded by hoverquads and the merchandise packed in large rhodium crates. I personally liked rhodium crates as they gave a sense of style whenever they showed up and it usually holds highly valuable items, this was no exception. By the look on what was pouring out of two flipped crates I could tell it was one of the most demanded drugs on the Trappist sector, protoxyllium metacalxinine, also known as dark haze. The most valuable drug on this sector, getting spilled on the snow.

By the look of this scenario, I got to the conclusion that this began as a Mexican stand off, and obviously it didn’t end well for none of the involved. There weren’t signs of whoever started this, as everyone was dead, unless me, thanks to my prosthetic arm that shielded me from the bullets. Moreover there was a bigger issue that I couldn’t acknowledge, and it was the fact that I couldn’t remember anything before waking up. I wasn’t sure about how to proceed now, but I knew for certain that I needed to start to remember what was I doing here, if I have killed someone, and the most important thing, who am I? I thought of looking for any clue inside my wallet, credit cards, ids or pictures. I checked my side pockets but nothing was inside them; but then it came back to my mind that I always keep my wallet in the left back pocket of my jeans, and as usual it was there. I unfolded the black leather wallet and checked the driver’s license in it. Apparently, my name was Fabio Bianchi, a Trappist native with Italian heritage. I also had a bunch of business cards that showed that I worked at a pet shop located on one of the biggest cities of the Trappist quadrant, as the manager of the store. I couldn’t recall what I managed on the store nor if I administrated it, as by the looks of where I am now was I no ordinary manager. I guess that was my legal job, because I was helping in what perhaps is one of the most important drug deals in the Trappist sector ever witnessed. But I guess something went wrong, terribly wrong. All of the hoverquads were either burning or had suffered gunshots from the standoff, the corpses scattered throughout suffering the same fate as the hoverquads. All in some way was arranged in a manner one can call beautiful, such a scenario of death blending perfectly with the tundra starting to melt and the awful quiet it showcased. I can’t emphasize enough the beauty of what my eyes saw while I try to remember.

The only problem was that sirens soon interrupted the silence. Far away the UTPD (United Trappist Police Department) was beginning to be seen heard in the horizon. By the sound of it they send all the units and vehicles they could spare. It appears someone might have heard the chaos on the far distance; maybe it was somebody in the closest space routes above me. It is worth remarking how fast cops respond and their amazing sophisticated equipment capable of taking down a whole bunch of criminals in a firefight, plus, I remember that the UTPD has a wide range of hoverquads, hoverpatrol cars and hoverpatrol vans which were mostly kept in the departments and were only made when the Depeche Riots occurred a while ago (I also remember that a quarter of the Trappist F citizens were arrested, it was all over the news). As I saw the cops coming my way, I knew I could get arrested if they saw me here, since I was involved in one of the biggest deals ever. As the hover patrol was coming closer in the distance, I thought of running to the nearest grove, although it was quite distant, I had no choice, it was getting arrested or worse, killed. With all the quads around me I instantly went to see if one of them was functional to get away faster, but none of them was. I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t get away by foot, it was too far away, and the cops would bust me before I get lost in the grove. I guess I would have to take the chance and sprint as fast as my legs could hold. Good thing Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m used to push myself while running since I loved the burn after jogging in the morning, although this was not my usual morning exercise. As I started to run for it my legs were starting to cramp up as I did not stretch before running but there wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t enough time to even think about stopping to catch my breath or to turn around and watch how close the police patrol was. I tried to do it twice while I was running, but the second time as I almost tripped over, I decided to just focus on my running with a fast pace and head towards a rocky part of the forest so I can hide. There was no turning back.

After a few minutes of running as fast as I could I finally entered the grove, now I could use the trees and the snow to loose myself from the cops and be able to begin my memory recovery by maybe investigating everything deeper. But now was not the time, I had to make sure that I had lost the police before walking out of the grove to the nearest town or village. I slowed down my pace since there was this steep part of the woods where I couldn’t walk easily. There where a few rocks and branches that could cause me some wounds if I slipped because of them. I watched my step as I started to ascend from the incline. Jut when I made it to a plain part again, I decided to look back and that’s when I heard: “United Trappist Police Department! Stop right there or we will deploy seekers!” That’s when I knew this would be the run of my life. I knew I had heard that word before, and that was when I knew what those things were. Seekers where drones designed to search and kill. They had thermal vision and where equipped with toxic darts composed with a deadly genetically modified snake poison. It’s almost impossible to get rid of those things, unless you hit them so hard their xenium armor breaks and get to take their liquid core out of them. I decided to look back, four hover quads where just at the edge of the grove; they couldn’t cross it because of the many amounts of trees in their way, but that wouldn’t be a problem. Six police corps descended from the quads and began the run after me. “Last warning human!” they shouted at me, and obviously I didn’t turn back. Wind started to blow, I could feel the cold breeze in my face, freezing my lips and nose. I had to lose them before nightfall; otherwise, nature itself would be my killer – if police weren’t. I got my pace back, faster and faster, but the woods seem to be endless, everywhere I looked there were trees and trees, and I couldn’t find any place to hide.

After one minute of running again, I heard in the distance “Deploy the seeker!” and a loud burst came out of where the police patrol mounted its station, just in the edge of the woods. One seeker flew up to the sky being catapulted by the trunk of the quad. I looked to the sky and there it was, a little gray sphere starting its first hunt of the day. It began it’s starting up sequence, two propellers came out from the side and an orange light illuminating its metal eye manifested it was alive. I was exhausted, running wasn’t working, but neither hiding was an option. The only option I had left was to fight for my life. I started to run again and I began to listen the two propellers getting closer every time, I could sense as they where just behind me. I saw a big boulder a few meters away from me. If I could hide from the seeker I could probably attack him by surprise and take its liquid core out to finish it. But the armor was too hard; it was almost bulletproof. As I was coming up with a plan, a very high pitched sound came out from the seeker, it shot me one of its darts, but in a split second I turned around and deflected it with my prosthetic arm. I had done that totally unintentionally. I was amazed. It appeared my prosthesis was programmed somehow to respond to certain events in many different ways. The good thing was that seekers were only loaded with two toxic darts, and they take some time to reload, since the darts are very heavy and fragile. As the drone was getting closer, I saw the boulder in the distance. I had some time before it shot again. I started to zig zag my way to the boulder to loose the seeker. I wasn’t sure if my plan was going to work. I knew I had to first get rid of the thermal vision, so just when It was one meter away from me. I turned around and still running, I crouched and threw a big amount of snow to its eye. The seeker dodged the snow. But when it engaged to hit me whit its hard armor y dodged it’s charged and hit it on the top of its metal structure and threw it on the ground. Again, that had been unintentionally. More than thirty pounds of strength had just gotten out of my arm. The drone was on the floor. I grabbed its metal shell and tear it from the machine. Its inner circuits were fried.

I saw the luminescent liquid core and without thinking I stepped on it spreading it all over the snow. It was dead; I had ended the seeker with just one punch. I was confused and amazed at the same time, but suddenly I heard a click just behind me. That was with no doubt the click of a loaded gun belonging to the police chasing me, that impressively somehow while I was finishing the seeker they catch up. “Hand on your head! Turn around!” A man shouted, frustrated I had no choice but to do so. I turned around with the head low and hands in the air. The police officer Put down his gun and said “Agent Delgado? Why the hell did you ran away from us? Did you not recognize my voice?” he said before looking at me from head to toe, seeing how thrashed and bleeding I was, and started to call the other officers about me and that I required some medical assistance. “You’re not going to arrest me?” I said, and as soon as I ended the question he looked at me with an expression of confusion, “You must have got hit in the head pretty hard, don’t you remember?”. After a long explanation, it turned out that I’m a UTPD undercover agent and got involved in one of the best jobs, but was it worth it? Would I be able to remember everything about who I once was before? Will Javier Delgado be back to the UTPD soon? I hope I will get these answers soon. At last before hopping on the hover ambulance I looked at the tundra, such beautiful landmark of my home world, and at the place where the shootout occurred. I will never forget this day where two major mobster leaders died in a shootout and retrieved millions worth of credits, and specially the day where I almost forgot who I once was.

Alejandro tiene una personalidad muy sensitiva. Es reservado y aunque no parece, cuida mucho los sentimientos de sus compañeros, está atento a reconfortar aquel que está triste o se le dificulta algo. Comparte con sus profesores sus ideas, inquietudes, sus dudas y cada día tiene una y mil preguntas interesantes. La guitarra es su eterna compañera (y no será la única, estamos seguros). Los personajes de sus relatos son su más preciado tesoro. En algunos años, lo veremos con grandes logros en el campo de la literatura. Rocío Ávila y Luz María Rojas

Esto no tenía que ser así Muerte en eterna compañía Puede que sea algo que perdía O vivía en labios carmesí

Al cosmos no pertenezco Al parecer tampoco a la Tierra Alma no habita cuerpo andante

Me alejo del resto inhumano Pues no concierne mucho para ellos Mis mudos dolores en los espejos Que suplican volar fuera de mano

Vivo añorando volver contigo Universo que narra nuestra vida A crear juntos historias del alma Historias que en mí Generan la calma Historias que viven Para contar lo que fui En este y todos los versos Soy xeno en vida propia

Je ne peux pas te changer Tu es sans pareil Je ne peux pas changer J'espère que tu pourras me comprendre

C'est impossible maintenant De te dire mes poèmes, mes histoires Aujourd'hui est sans toi Comme tous les jours depuis toujours

Je ne peux pas te changer La façon dont tu souris La façon avec laquelle Tu fais fondre mon cœur

Je ne pouvais pas changer L'avenir passé Les moments que nous avions partagés Ils sont perdus dans le temps

Si proche et pourtant si loin C'est une tragédie, n'est-ce pas? Toi Heureuse, vivante, incroyable.

Je ne peux pas te dire maintenant Tout ce que je garde dans mon âme Mais regarde! Ce que je suis en train de faire!

Non, je ne peux pas faire beaucoup de choses C'est vrai Et non, je ne peux pas te changer C'est vrai tout ça

Je ne peux que te dire que je t'aime Mais vois, c'est plus que ça! Je ne veux que partager mes jours avec toi Je ne veux qu’écrire notre histoire ensemble

Je ne peux pas te changer Pardonne-moi Tu es parfaite comme tu es Même si tu ne le crois pas

Même si l'univers décide De nous tenir à l'écart Même si le monde entier Me dit que je dois te laisser

Je pense à toi et je vois Que les jours continuent J'y pense et je rêve En écrivant

Tu ne peux pas le voir? Chaque mot, chaque histoire Tout est pour toi Mon amie.

Me gustaría conocerme de nuevo en ti. No de manera extraña o corporal, sino de aquella manera que alguna vez me permití experimentar por cual corto tiempo fue. Jamás te he dicho la razón de nuestro encuentro. Me gusta pensar que lo planeé todo, que cada paso fue calculado con el más meticuloso detalle para llegar a la autosatisfacción y al reconocimiento que iba a obtener contigo en mi plan. Te mentiría y hasta la fecha no recuerdo haberlo hecho. Fue un martes 17 de diciembre para ser precisos. Ya llevaba meses desde que vivía por mis rumbos sin sentido y hacía cualquier cosa que la vida me pidiera en su infinita ignorancia. No me quejaba realmente, en casa había peores cosas que ver y la invisible soledad me permitía escapar aunque fuera momentáneamente de mis problemas incompartibles. Fue poco después de la salida y no encontraba el camino. Salí por la puerta principal abandonada y tranquila que nadie se molestaba en perturbar. Ahí te vi en tus oscuros cabellos y tu soledad acompañada. No fue hasta mucho después que descubrí lo que realmente vi ese día, una parte de mi reflejada en ti, me veía en abandono y en remordimiento de ser impotente hacía el resto del mundo que tenía como trabajo asegurarse de evitar mi felicidad. Así que supongo que inconsciente pero a la vez más consciente que nunca, tomé la decisión que me encantaría que alguien hubiese tomado conmigo. Me acerqué en sigilo pero mi primera impresión fue que sólo conseguí asustarte, dos perfectos desconocidos saludándose por ninguna razón. Aun así al terminar nuestra corta y acelerada introducción sentí una especie de orgullo que no me hizo sentir más que culpable después.

“Una buena acción en mi vida” pensé. “Una que tendría consecuencias irreparables” no pensé. Dos días después coincidimos otra vez, y créeme que cuando digo coincidimos es una verdadera coincidencia que aunque planeé cien veces en mi mente, mi alma jamás estuvo lista para afrontar la realidad: nunca estás listo para lo inesperado. Mis amigos y amigas de aquel entonces se encontraban alegres devorando toda la comida a su paso, contando bromas y en general haciendo todo lo que unos adolescentes en posada navideña pueden hacer. Al voltear hacia atrás sin motivo aparente, noté aquellas largas olas brillantes de antier. A pesar de sólo haberte visto una vez, me eras inconfundible. Realmente no lo pensé tanto, cambiar de mesa y dejar a mis compañeros seguir con lo suyo era especialidad de la casa y hasta podría obtener mejor compañía que la del silencio ruidoso. Es borrosa esa memoria, saber si en tu mente seguía o éramos de nuevo extraños. Fue otro momento fugaz que pronto desapareció, esta vez gracias a mi propia inaptitud para socializar. Te vi en algunos juegos y en algunos puestos, pero fuera de eso me repetía sin cesar que era algo pasajero, que esas cosas no le pasaban a personas como yo. “¿Cómo yo?” me cuestioné. “No hay dos como yo, jamás lo habrá y definitivamente ella no lo es ni será”. Ya desde entonces me juraba y perjuraba que eras diferente pero como deseaba que no fuese así. El día terminó y busqué en nervios la oportunidad de decirte adiós, la cual obtuve y aunque en el recuerdo ya no está, sé que por un segundo me dio felicidad. Aunque parezca exageración, pensé mucho en ti durante el invierno, descansando sólo para comer, dormir y soñar. El resto del tiempo estabas en las notas del piano, en los juegos que no me permitían vivir, en37 las películas que me llevaban a mundos nuevos. Estabas ahí y ni siquiera te conocía.

Aunque parezca exageración, pensé mucho en ti durante el invierno, descansando sólo para comer, dormir y soñar. El resto del tiempo estabas en las notas del piano, en los juegos que no me permitían vivir, en las películas que me llevaban a mundos nuevos. Estabas ahí y ni siquiera te conocía. Ahora que lo recuerdo me sorprende ver la desesperación que agobiaba a mi corazón, el deseo irrompible de compartir con aquella la indicada, aquello que el resto encontraría ajeno y poco importante. La indicada eras tú. Al volver con un nuevo año pero la misma vieja actitud, las coincidencias se volvieron acciones que buscaba, momentos que encontraba con la propia voluntad por el anhelo de estar ahí contigo. No tardaron mucho en notarlo, que ya mis dos descansos no eran solo para jugar con el balón o para andar cual vagabundo en la cancha, ahora mi existencia cobraba sentido y dirección, nombre y ojos. Pero no todo era enamoramiento y rosas, cual ser racional que soy, observaba al resto observarnos. ¿Qué más daba lo que ellos pensaran? No se daban la oportunidad de ver tu genio. ¿Qué eras la más rara, tímida y apartada de todas? Muy su problema, ellos se lo pierden. ¿Qué en tu temperamento, —que gracias al cielo jamás tuve el placer de sentir apuntado hacía mí—podías partirle la cara en dos a quien osara molestar aquello que te importara? ¡Qué orgullo! ¡Más vale cara rota a espíritu quebrantado! Así es, incluso en ese entonces estaba al tanto de la ceguera intensa que causaba tu mera presencia al corazón, de los dolores que la pérdida podría tener en mi alma y a pesar de todo eso, mis momentos más alegres se remontan a ese tiempo contigo. No quería nada más, nada afuera de la felicidad que compartíamos.

¿Recuerdas aquel dibujo y carta qué me diste el día comercial del amor comercial? Hoy en día los mantengo junto a mí sin perderlos de vista, me gustaría perpetuar tu arte en un cuadro, tu letra en la eterna posteridad junto a las estrellas. Esos han sido los mejores obsequios que he recibido jamás, aparte de nuestro tiempo juntos. ¿Recuerdas aquellas veces que te sentías mal por los impensables males que te acosaban en tus sueños y en tus horas más oscuras? Me sentía impotente pero aun así quería estar ahí para ti, ser el soporte en el que pudieras depositar con alegría tu confianza. Pero como todo lo bueno que parece llegar a mi vida, tenía que alejarme. ¿Recuerdas qué te dije que era el viento del norte que llega veloz a llenar tu alma con todo lo que era, para luego despedirme inevitablemente al pasar mi estación? Desde el principio lo aclaré, con la esperanza de que entendieras que yo era una eventualidad, que nuestro tiempo no podría durar para siempre y bien lo sabía, ¡lo sabía y lo recordaba a cada momento que veía al sol bajar y subir anunciando el inminente final! Lo sabía y no me arrepiento de habértelo dicho. ¿Recuerdas aquel beso que jamás fue? ¿Recuerdas compartir por eternidades pláticas honestas? ¿Recuerdas el bellísimo silencio del medio día, con el viento rozando tus celestiales colores de piel, sentados juntos sin pensar en nada? ¿Recuerdas las largas caminatas alrededor del perímetro alargado del trapezoide conocido como escuela? ¿Recuerdas todo eso? ¿Todo lo que alguna vez fuimos? No respondas, no ahora que aún no termino.

Todavía recuerdo aquel 9 de mayo, tan distante de la memoria pero tan cerca de la muerte. Aquel día mi corazón no fue destrozado, ni aplastado, ni incinerado ni desintegrado, simplemente desapareció sin rastro. ¿Qué debía pensar? ¿Qué debía sentir? ¿Qué sentido tenía existir si ya no había motivo para hacerlo? Una mente que ni idea tenía y un corazón demasiado lastimado para reaccionar, ¿a quién debía escuchar? La eterna encrucijada. ¿Destruirme o destruir al resto? No sabía cuál era la respuesta correcta. No te culpo, jamás lo he hecho. Éramos jóvenes y una gran juventud conlleva una gran inmadurez e inexperiencia. Aunque todavía, en momentos demasiado tranquilos como para pensar con seriedad en el presente, vuelvo a aquellos días y me pregunto. Me pregunto lo que hubiera sido vivir hasta el final, aquella linda experiencia. ¿Nunca tuviste la curiosidad? ¿De saber si en los incontables universos paralelos hay la más mínima posibilidad de encontrarnos? Tengo la seguridad de que a ti también te dolió, cada uno afrontando a la vida con nuestro temor e indecisión. Sé en lo más profundo que las lágrimas fueron sinceras al igual que la llama ardiendo en tu dorado corazón, resonando con mi alma plateada. Pero al final, no hubo un final. Me fui cual viento que prometí ser y te vi partir por última vez. Y quería con todas mis ganas que fuera realmente la última vez, el último dolor, el final de la triste historia que fue recibir y dar amor, convertirse en la mismísima esencial del hombre mortal en su máxima expresión. Volverse amor, puro y extraño.

Han pasado ya tres años desde entonces y he crecido. He amado y he vivido, tal como debe ser. También te he visto crecer, convertirte en alguien más fuerte y noble de lo que me pude imaginar. Superaste toda expectativa con determinación cruda y potente. No te frenes ni te culpes nunca, todo lo que has logrado es tuyo y de nadie más. Como decía, amé de nuevo. Pero amar no es algo que se pueda repetir cual tarea mundana como eliminar nutrientes o cavar más profunda la fosa en mi alma. Jamás he vuelto a amar de la forma que amé contigo, ni siquiera cerca. Dicen que el primer amor nunca se olvida, pero ni fuiste la primera ni la última persona en entrar en mi corazón. Sin embargo, la manera en la que hacías brillar mi vida es irrepetible. Lo que inició como un espejo no era más que una ilusión, entre más te conocía veía lo diferente y única que eras, no eras como yo, eras mucho mejor. Contigo no necesitaba máscaras ni disfraces, reservaciones o secretos. Era el estado de pureza más elevado que la consciencia pudo haber tenido. Era libre. Con el tiempo hemos madurado, hemos compartido más y quiero suponer que al mirar atrás, vemos la belleza inesperada de la vida, que llena de tristezas y alegrías el alma sin previo aviso. La última vez que nos vimos fue hace seis meses que parecen una eternidad bien esperada. Eres y siempre fuiste hermosura y comprensión, sueños y humanidad. Humanidad. Muy pocas personas llegan a rebosar de humanidad como tú. Lamento que esto jamás llegue a ti, que quede en oídos sordos y ojos ciegos que jamás comprenderán. Es mejor así.

TĂş; mi musa, mi amiga, mi inexplicable coincidencia. Oro corazĂłn. Para ti, por siempre

Aileen es una chica que combina elegantemente su personalidad reservada y reflexiva con un corazón abierto y cálido cuyo latido lo agradece todo. Poseedora de muchos talentos, lo suyo es la armonía porque ese es el cristal ante el que elige mirar, hablar … y querer. Es generosa no sólo para regalar sonrisas sinceras sino también para recibir cariño, acaso porque se sabe merecedora de éste. Es un deleite verla pasar y detenerse de pronto a observar el vuelo de una mariposa o la forma de una flor, la vida en sus diferentes manifestaciones. por Hortensia Ruiz 43

Ojos grandes no mienten. Ojos grandes que sienten. Ojos grandes que tratan y se delatan. Pues no hay que ocultar, ojos grandes que todo han de revelar. No existe la manera de buscar la mentira, las pupilas brillan en son de la verdad, lo verídico se descubre mirando bajo pestañas centrándose en medio del iris. No has de llorar porque ojos grandes acumulan llanto en el centro de sus secretos, saliendo a flote en manifestación de la debilidad. Ojos grandes que son para expresar, no existen ojos ni insignificantes, ni muy grandes para lamentar. En tus ojos grandes, yo busco la sinceridad de todas las mentiras de la vida. Con sus largas pestañas masajeo lo que más me duele Pongo en tus ojos exorbitantes. De llanto a Sanar mi herida. Ahora veo con mis ojos pequeños la raíz de tus problemas, él sólo pena lo que en tu nube llueve.

Te deprimes, te vas, te distraes con facilidad. Te preguntas si habrá un por qué Y descubres que todo es muy simple Pues muy en el fondo se sufre.

De pronto, estas en las nubes, Pero sabes que te hundes No puedes salir, intentas huir Ya ésta es una realidad Es imposible escapar. La bestia se acaba de desatar.

Alma pura, que se vuelve oscura ¡Malditas sean estas garras, que me toman con ganas! Me sofocan en silencio Yo trato y me esfuerzo Pero con este amor grotesco, no puedo, lo obedezco

Su veneno me paraliza Su aguijรณn me aterroriza Esta bestia es fuerte, esta bestia es mala Nadie puede desafiarla Pues en este ancho paradigma No hay nadie que no diga No me ha llevado el amor Me escape, no le tengo temor.

La calidez y alegrĂa de su persona Pueden desarmar hasta un fiero guerrero. Aunque ella prefiera leer un buen gĂŠnero. Ella es una lectora tenaz, que su cultura le gusta ampliar. Y en los retos literarios le gusta participar.

por Luz MarĂa Rojas

Pinceles y lienzos te consagré

Al final el artista te pinta El artista te ama

Tus ojos pintaron mis manos

El artista te llora

Tus manos brotaron de mi pecho

El artista te añora

Mis dedos siguieron tus pies

Pero también el artista tiene el don de destrucción y dolor

¿Cómo te atreves a arrancar mi pincel?

Un dolor que ningún ruiseñor puede aplacar

El pincel de mi alma El pincel de mis anhelos

Pinceles y lienzos te consagré amor mío Y ahora lo tienes que pagar.

¿Sabes de qué color tornan mis ojos? ¿De qué color el alma enfurece? ¿Cómo se tiñe mi corazón? Negro, negro corazón

Mucho rojo ya ha caído El toro se está quedando vacío Cuida bien tu último tiro Pues la cornamenta se encajará en lo más profundo de tu pecho Y tu toro morirá

¡Gran matador! Valiente asesino La cornamenta arrancarás y tu toro no se levantará más.

Mi amigo, mi enemigo Aquel que escuchó mis plegarias Aquel que hizo trizas mi alma Piedad, es lo que no conoces No me ruegues me dijiste. El calor de tu abrazo fue lo único que reconocí ¿Dónde quedaron tus ojos? Los ojos de mi paz Los ojos de mi alma, marchitos Brecha de lamentos Tu espada para este corazón Tu espada para cada ruiseñor Tu espada de sangre Mi sangre dulce y amarga.

De pasos firmes y andar solidario Ana tiene una gran sensibilidad para escuchar a quién lo necesita y lucha para sumar fuerzas. Disfruta mucho de sus amigos, se adapta a las circunstancias y aunque su personalidad es serena, su voz se escucha siempre porque la justicia es su motor. Por si su sensibilidad y su búsqueda por la justicia fueran poco, Ana también nació con el don de la palabra, ¿A quién no ha convencido con su talento en los ejercicios de oratoria? Escrito por Hortensia Ruiz

Mariposas de colores vuelan hacia el atardecer Cubriendo las ramas de los árboles que las hojas desnudaron al caer Mariposas de colores van pintando el cielo gris Díganme, ¿a dónde vuelan? Yo con ustedes quiero partir Mariposas de colores que reposan de flor en flor Qué maravilla conocer el secreto de sus pétalos, Llévenme con ustedes, llévenme entre sus alas Mariposas de colores que buscan a algún pintor Quédense conmigo en lo que pasa el atardecer Siendo brisa o siendo viento Yo con ustedes he de volver.

Te has alejado tanto tiempo de mí Que ya hasta me pareces incierto y desconocido. Tan desconocido como lo que hay más allá del mar, tan incierto como lo que hay más allá del cielo.

Alguna vez, me pareció que éramos uno mismo. uno mismo, así como el sol y la luna, uno mismo, así como las ramas y las hojas.

Pero, ¿Cómo podría yo saber que el sol desaparece cuando sale la luna? ¿Cómo podría yo saber que al llegar el otoño las hojas caen desnudando así a las ramas? Y así como el viento de otoño aparto a las hojas de las ramas, el frío del invierno aparto tu alma de la mía. Y de ser uno, nos volvimos ninguno

Es una joven de largo silencio, pero nunca del silencio de la ignorancia o de poco lenguaje, su silencio es el de la prudencia. Más aún, el silencio de una profunda reflexión, ya que las palabras si danzan en su mente, y es aquí, que ellas fluyen creadoramente, no para romper el silencio, sino para que nosotros disfrutemos de su palabra escrita. por Luz María Rojas

The use of stars was the discovery of the decade, maybe even of the century actually. The second it appeared star business boomed, for obvious reasons. Stars became quickly known for their medicinal use and possible magic properties. All over the world star users claimed the foreign objects could grant wishes, gave good luck, and, as medically proven, could cure certain illnesses. But it was also well known all these things didn’t work the same for everyone. While it made a guy in Italy rich, and cured someone’s wife in Brazil from cancer, somebody in France couldn’t make them work at all on himself and called stars to be lies and a rather complicated government plan. But nobody had been able to find out what whether they worked or not depended on. But they didn’t really have that much time either, because stars became illegal. Orion’s father had been a space traveller. During the star boom he’d bring rare stars from rare places hidden throughout rare galaxies. Most were very different from what you’d see at the stores’ shelves and on sale at malls. His father was Orion’s biggest hero. He’d taught Orion how to catch stars, he gave him his own star to keep in his room so he wouldn’t be scared of the dark, and he would take him on trips to the most interesting galaxies and sectors he knew. Around the time Orion turned 14 his father left, on a special trip, for a special star, and never came back. He’d given him a small locket in a golden chain before he left on that special trip. A locket that he always wore as it hung slightly heavy on his neck and somehow made him feel safer. His mom got sick two years after. Orion had tried his best to get over it and learn to live without his father, he thought his mom had done too until her illness showed him she’d only been pretending. On her worst days she’d call her husband, and then she'd cry for hours when Orion told her he wouldn’t be back but at the end of the day she’d start looking for him again around the house. With his mother’s fragile state he had to take care of the family himself. More than once he tried wishing upon stars for his father to come back, for his mother to get better, to at least stop asking Orion where his father was every single day. He became a star seller; his dad's old partner helped him get his licence and name out there. He would spend less time at home and more in the streets, and his mother's dementia only got worse. He'd come home to her yelling at the couch for being away all week and not caring for his son. On the weeks this lasted, he learnt things about his parents he wished he'd never heard. But it didn't last long; soon after his mother died. And a year later his world finished crumbling when star business became illegal. But it was the only thing he knew how to do, the only thing he had left. 55

Orion woke up that grey January morning covered in cold sweat. The sounds of the city buzzed outside his glassless window. After the death of his mother he ran away. He didn't want to be alone in that house and he didn't want to deal with police interrogations. Following two months of living on the streets from people's charity and stolen wallets he stumbled across a lady who owned and rented an old building with old, humid, tiny rooms. Miss Lauren was an angel, and her tiny rooms a paradise for Orion. Although she hadn't seemed like the kind of lady to give rooms for free when she'd ran out with a broom the day she first met him. He had been roaming the trash cans if the alleyway next to her building. She must've felt sorry for the thin, weak boy full of bruises and cuts in his hands, who looked like he’d worn the same shirt for weeks and that had half his body inside a trashcan because she took him in, and offered one of her humid rooms as long as he promised to catch up with the rent sometime. He sat up, rubbed the sleep off his face with his palm and stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He had a weird feeling in his chest, like something was about to happen. But nothing did. He got up and prepared himself a cup of cheap coffee. He leaned on the counter, sipping the flavourless liquid of a cracked mug that dripped it onto his floor. And then a boy broke into this room through the window. He got tangled on the curtains and fell face first as he jumped inside. Orion looked at the strange boy from the opposite side of the room. He had ripped jeans, a grey shirt with holes here and there you could see tattoos poking through and a messy hair that looked pretty much like he hadn't brushed it all year. Everything about the boy said “hey I'm bad news, here comes trouble!” “You’re Orion?” He asked in a raspy voice getting back on his feet. “Yeah?” Orion wasn't sure what to think about his strange visitor. “I need a star.” Why the boy had broken into his house, and specifically asked for him was a mystery he couldn't really wrap his head around. He was a known star dealer but nobody had ever broken into his home wanting to buy some. Nonetheless he nodded and set his mug down on the counter. “Were you looking for something in particular?” He asked as he made his way into another room,

as old and moss-filled as the last one. “Not… really. I don’t know much about them I just need one.” “Aha” Orion nodded again and opened a carton box set under a desk. Inside jars lined up, with different colour lids. He took out a blue lid one and shook it gently. The jar started shining, seeming as if he’d woken up the star inside. “Here you go.” Orion handed him the jar. The stranger looked at the star inside for a minute before shaking his head. “Not this one.” Then leaned over and started inspecting the stars inside the jars one by one, handing a few over to Orion who took them slightly confused. Police sirens started blaring on the distance and the boy immediately straightened up. “How much do you want for those?” He asked taking his wallet out. As the sirens got closer he visibly started getting more irritated. “Umm it’s five for-” “We don't have time give me that” The boy took the stars from Orion and ran back out the window. “Hey wait!” Orion grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans that laid on the floor and ran out the window behind the strange boy. “You have to pay for them!” He shouted annoyed. There was a loud explosion behind them, and both turned around to see the place where Orion’s apartment had once been was now just a hole with smoke coming out. He could see police officers coming after them. “Quick!” The boy shouted, jumping into a strange looking car. Orion didn't have time to think things through and for some reason the stranger's car sounded better than getting tackled and possible shot, judging by what they’d done to his home, by the Star Trafficking Police division. The boy steps on the gas as soon as Orion’s door shuts closed and with a loud screech from the tires against the cement they manage to get away. Orion sits there in a shock, holding his clothes tightly to his chest. “I have to get out of this bloody planet” The boy mumbles angrily. “There's a pair of shoes in the

back seat if you want them.” He states after giving him a quick glance. Orion shakes his head and with some difficulty manages to slide on the jeans and the shirt over his head. A pair of black running shoes lay on the floor behind his seat. Surprisingly they fit him perfectly. After tying them up he sit up and takes a deep breath. “Who are you? Where are we going? Why did you specifically choose those stars?” “My name’s Vega nice to meet you” He said, not sounding pleased to meet him at all. “I don't know where we’re going, away from the cops. I needed them.” “You said you didn’t know about them.” “I lied okay? I didn't need you asking questions.” He said annoyed and pressed a button on the panel. A compartment popped out, a box with a circular hole in the middle that slightly resembled a cup holder. “Open this one.” Vega handed him one of the jars. Orion shook it gently and opened it. Vega took it and flipped it over so the star would fall inside the opened box, then pushed it closed. “Alright look; stars aren’t all the same alright? But since you had them roughly divided by colours i guess you already kind of knew that. You guys think they only work on certain people or whatever, but that's not right, you're just not choosing the right ones for whatever you want to use them. Like people expect to get a wish when they’re using medical stars. Or a health when asking for it to a fuel star. Most cities and planets use supernovas as fuel, they are cheap and quite long lasting. Your own city uses one.” “I didn't know that.” “That's because you’re all so ignorant.” Vega said rolling his eyes, which earned him a glare from Orion. “Stars are very powerful though. Those police officers blew up that place with just one shot... Though your guns are pretty crap. Because again, you don't always use the right starts. Anyway, they’re dangerous, whole planets have been destroyed because of them, they're too powerful. Some planets don't know how to share. They fight each other for them. Either stars unite the planet and they prosper or … it divides them and they kill each other for their power.

Which looks like the road your own planet is going down.” They sat in silence for a while. Orion taking in what the boy had told him. They drove all day, down the lonely highway. Until the night sky started filling up with stars, the moon shining full and bright. Throughout the day they had to use the other two stars Vega had taken from Orion’s apartment. “Oh god no” He said and stopped the car. Got down, slammed the door shut and made his way to the front, opening the hood of the car. Orion sat confused in silence for a second before climbing down and joining Vega who now stood with his hands on his hips looking up at the night sky. Orion followed his gaze into the constellations. “If we had that one.” Vega said nostalgic, pointing at a bright star in the sky. He turned back around and kicked one of the car’s front tires. “Out of all the times this could’ve happened.” He screamed and started pacing around, back and forth next to the car. Orion made his way into the back of the car and opened the trunk. Inside he found a rope, a couple clothe hangers, clothes and a bunch of weird looking artefacts that were unknown to him. He grabbed the rope and a hanger and then made his way into the field that surrounded the highway. He stood on an even clear part of the field and tied the hanger tightly to the rope. He looked up, held his locket in his nervous hand as he located the star they needed and swung the rope into the sky. After a couple tries he did it with enough force and the hanger got caught on the night sky. He gave it a few tugs to be sure before climbing up it. It took him a couple minutes to get to the top of the rope. It made him nervous to be so high with so little security, with so bad equipment; he stayed at the top of the rope, holding onto the locket on his neck building up courage. Then he reached inside his pocket and found his small laser, which he always left inside one of his pockets. He was quite relieved to actually find it in those jeans. With a quick flash to the star he ensured it wouldn't move and unstuck it from the night sky. Orion reached out, trying his best not to fall into certain death. He managed to pry the star off the sky and slid it inside his other pocket since he didn't have any jars to keep it inside of. He went down the rope again, shaking his hands in the air as they were red and stinging. He tugged the rope down and folded it neatly before making his way back to Vega. When he got back the boy hadn't even noticed he’d left. Vega was still pacing around, mumbling

angrily to himself. “I got it.” Orion said to get his attention, which earned him a confused glare from Vega. He reached inside his pocket and threw the star at him. Vega caught it and kept looking back and forth between the star and Orion as the latter climbed back inside the car. Vega followed him soon after and placed the star inside a jar to make it shine before slipping it inside the compartment. “This one should... last us a while.” He mumbled quietly. Orion felt quite pleased, as Vega’s tone had changed, less on the “You’re an idiot, why do i have to explain everything to you?” and more into the “Thank you, you’ve got my respect”. And they drove away. Vega took a breath, like he was about to say something, but stopped dry as sirens started blaring behind them. He cursed and stepped on the gas. Orion looked behind; he could see the lights of police cars in the distance, not far from them. His hands shook and his stomach fell to his feet. He’d forgotten they were being chased for some reason unknown to him. Vega tried to lose them by driving inside the fields but it was no use, they were right behind them. He’d turn and accelerate and turn again. All while Orion sat beside him, holding onto the car seat for dear life. “Oh god, oh god, oh god” He kept whispering over as over as Vega tried to lose them. “We’re not going to get away like this.” Vega said frustrated. “Be useful and press that red button when I tell you.” Orion nodded and placed a shaky finger over the button Vega had pointed to. There was a blast behind them and the car jumped slightly into the air. Vega cursed again and held tight onto the gear stick, his knuckles turning white. “Okay, now!” He said and Orion pressed the button as the car jumped into the air from another explosion and Vega mover the stick to a 109 number beside it. And the car didn't fall back to the ground, but instead, as Vega stepped on the accelerator, it shot right through the air. They were going way faster now, the fields under them only a blur. Vega drove or… flew through the air at that crazy speed until he was sure he’d lost the police cars. And slowly lowered the car onto the ground. Orion was tense, frozen onto the car seat. “We’ll sleep here.” Vega said and stepped out of the car. He got back with a pair of blankets and threw one at Orion’s head. Vega shook his head, with an amused smile as the other boy didn't

move. He pulled on a lever so the seat would lean all the way down and laid on it, covering himself with the blanket. Orion did the same soon after, still in shock. But surprisingly he fell asleep fast and with no problem. Orion woke up the next afternoon; Vega was sitting outside leaning on a tree and eating an apple. He stretched and got out the car with him. When he sat down Vega handed him an apple and they both sat in silence for a couple minutes. “Where did you learn to catch stars?” Vega asked, breaking the silence and taking another bite off his apple. “My father taught me, before he left.” “Where to?” Orion shrugged. “I don’t know, but I haven't seen him since.” “I’m sorry.” Vega said, knowing better than to be nosey. “Why is the police chasing you?” Orion asked after some seconds. To which Vega sighed in response. “It’s complicated but, I’m not from this planet. Mine is on sector 45. Anyway, when I was younger I used to really admire this space adventurer. He was my role model. I really wanted to be like him, you know? And well, I was young. I got this car, and would steal stars, since that’s what it’s powered with and I didn’t have to money to buy them. One time I stole the wrong star from the wrong person. It kind of caused a war so, yeah. That’s roughly why.” Vega said playing with the apple in his hands. Orion didn’t know what to say, so he didn't say anything. And they sat next to each other in a comfortable silence. The next couple days consisted of mostly hiding. Luckily they didn't run into the cops again. With quick steps and carefree attitudes they'd sneak into empty houses and steal food or take showers. Orion would catch stars to power the car from building's rooftops every night. As the days went by they became good friends, it's expected when you have to run away from the police with someone. Either you start getting along or things will go south. Vega stopped thinking of Orion as

a weight he had to carry now. And Orion stopped feeling like he'd gotten his life taken away. Because thinking back at it, he didn't have much of a good life anyway. It was a cloudy night. You couldn't see the stars and the moon barely shone through them. They were driving to the next city when the police found them. The sirens blared close behind them. “Oh no” Vega said, stepping on the gas. “We're out of power, are there any stars left?” Orion looked at the back seat, but the jars were all open and empty. “Um, no” there was an explosion behind to their right and Vega had to violently steer the wheel to stay on the road. The light on the panel blared red, telling them the power was running out. Another explosion, but this time to their left. Vega gripped the wheel as hard as he could; trying to stay in control of the car, but another blast sent them flying into the air. The car flipped and turned in the air as both boys screamed inside, holding on to their seats both glad the seatbelts fitted tight. The car crashed down on the pavement, and they stood still, afraid if they moved they'd fall and break their necks. The silence lasted little as their ears stopped buzzing and police officers surrounded the car. “They’re inside.” “Negative.” “Stay still.” One yelled at Orion as he tried to speak. “I’m not-” He began to say. “Shut up!” Vega yelled at him but immediately they shot them and they were both knocked unconscious. Both boys woke up inside a cell. Orion was already awake and sitting on the bed when Vega woke up on the floor. He held his head, taking a look around. “No, no, no I can’t be here again” “Again?” Orion asked, looking at him curiously.

“Listen here kid, this time they’ll kill me. I escaped the first time but now... ” He held Orion by the shoulders as he spoke, shaking him. He then made his way to the bars and started yelling to be let out, his hands gripping the cold bars. “Hey, hey Vega, calm down.” Orion ran up to him and pulled him away from the door. They were in the cell for hours. Vega calmed down and pressed his face against the cold bars while Orion sat on the bed again, his back against the wall. A small red ball rolled inside, blinking and crashing against the back wall. It took Vega a second to realise what it was. “Orion get down!” He yelled, running in his direction. The ball exploded, making a hole on the cell’s wall. Pieces of rock had cut both boys arms as they’d tried to cover themselves the best they could. Orion lowered his arms from his face and saw the shape of a man through the smoke of the explosion. The man took off what looked like a space helmet and Orion couldn’t believe what he saw. His father stood there, exactly as he remembered him. They stood still, both looking at each other, Orion’s eyes tearing up. His father opened his arms and he ran for a hug. He felt warm and happy, for a second he thought maybe he’d died in the explosion and this was only an illusion of his mind as life slowly drained from him. But as soon as he heard Vega squeal, a sound he would've never imagined coming from him, he knew he was alive and awake. “Sir, what! I admire you a lot! Where did you go? Let me tell you when you took the star on the 34 sector of the Hunter’s galaxy that was, wow” Vega spoke fast, clearly very excited. He proceeded to shake Orion’s dad hand over and over before pacing around the destroyed cell talking about how amazing his work was. “I thought you were dead.” Orion said, taking a step back. “I’m sorry I had to go. They would’ve hurt you if i hadn't. Look son, we don't have much time. I wish we did, there’s so much I’ve missed.” He spoke slow and calmly. “I’m not from here; I’ve been used by the government of this planet to show them how to properly use stars. I refused to teach them how to make weapons and they threatened to kill you and your mother so I had to agree. I didn't tell them much before they sent me to look for another supernova to power the country. I used this as my opportunity to run away. I had to.” He pulled Orion out of the cell and

into the street as he spoke. Vega following close behind, now very interested in what he had to say. “I’m sorry son, I hope you’ll be able to forgive me someday. I need you both to go now, far away. Somewhere they won’t find you.” He said taking them to a car. A much nicer car than Vega’s, who freaked out again, pointing out how good the machine was and all its perks. “Wait, no. Just us? Dad I have questions, I don’t understand” Orion said desperately. “I have something to do. Something I should’ve done many years ago. We’ll never see each other again but I want you to know Orion that I love you.” He hugged him again. “There's a neutron star in your locket. It’s frozen in time I need you to use it to power the car. It’ll be the fastest way to get you out of this sector. Out of the galaxy.” As he said this he pushed Orion inside the car who tried to fight back but surrendered in the end, tears streaming down his face. “Dad” he said in a shaky voice, everything was going way too fast. His mind could barely keep up with everything he’d said. “It’ll be alright. I’ll always be with you.” He said with a sad smile before looking over at Vega in the driver’s seat. “I think i can trust you with this young man” He said to which Vega nodded enthusiastically, his hands on the steering wheel. “There’s already an address on the auto pilot. It’ll take you somewhere safe. I hope what’s there will answer your questions Orion.” Then he backed away and handed Vega Orion’s locket, which he’d taken off the last time they hugged. “No, no, no Vega wait!” Orion tried to stop him but Vega put the star on the compartment and stepped on the gas, shooting them far into the night sky. His father stayed back, looking up at the fluorescent line that faded as they drove away. His last hours consisted on tricking the government into thinking he’d change the supernova powering the country. And with a few words with certain contacts they took him to the reactor. They were so desperate for the new star no one really questioned it. New weapons had to be tested with its power. But once he was inside the reactor he unfroze it. And the power was released before it reached containment. The explosion was so strong half the planet was destroyed. Hundreds of people died instantly. On the years to come people realized the dangers of stars and this became one of the main planets pushing towards the proper safe use of stars. An important member of the Safety Council. Vega and Orion were taken to the galaxy his father had been living in. Found a small cabin full of books and diaries his father had left for him. Books and diaries that shared the most unknown secrets of the universe, that shared the stories of the countless trips he made. And which the boys used to make their own journeys, around the galaxy. Into different planets, different galaxies, different sectors. Catching stars and selling them on the go. Becoming space adventurers and legends themselves. 64

On the years to come people realized the dangers of stars and this became one of the main planets pushing towards the proper safe use of stars. An important member of the Safety Council. Vega and Orion were taken to the galaxy his father had been living in. Found a small cabin full of books and diaries his father had left for him. Books and diaries that shared the most unknown secrets of the universe, that shared the stories of the countless trips he made. And which the boys used to make their own journeys, around the galaxy. Into different planets, different galaxies, different sectors. Catching stars and selling them on the go. Becoming space adventurers and legends themselves.

La primera impresión de Alejandra es que es muy reservada y callada en clase pero le bastan cinco minutos para demostrarte que es divertida, ruidosa, espontánea, relajienta pero eso sí muy trabajadora, comprometida e interesada en aprender. Ale baila, dibuja, canta, actua, estudia y siempre lo hace con los mejores estándares de calidad. Es cariñosa, va repartiendo amor a todo aquel que quiera compartir y recibirlo. por Rocío Ávila

Me manchas y rayas, cada pincelada haciéndose más fuerte que la anterior. Sentimientos de ira y frustración dejas caer sobre mi cuerpo y yo sólo me pregunto: ¿a dónde se fue tu felicidad de cuando me conociste?

Recuerdo cuando me tocaste por primera vez; la pintura fresca y reluciente con la que me marcaste. Siempre terminaba llena de brillantes colores, y los pinceles que pasabas por mi cuerpo eran suaves y con bella forma. Cada pincelada planeada a la perfección, con la intención de, en ambos, provocar placer.

Ahora, cuando terminas conmigo, no te importa mi apariencia, ni mucho menos el daño que me has causado.

Los colores que solían brillar como el más bello día de primavera se han tornado opacos, con tonalidades negras, moradas y rojas. Los pinceles con los que solías tocarme se han secado y me lastiman al simple roce.

Antes éramos uno. El artista y su lienzo. Ahora, sólo está el lienzo.

Un día a escribir me puse; en tinta mis pensamientos puros por fin pude plasmar. Sin darme cuenta, las lágrimas por sí solas se pusieron a bailar.

Los recuerdos de esos años alegres para los demás, tristes para mí, empezaban a regresar. La muerte dejaba de volverse desconocida otra vez y se transformaba en mi amiga de hacía una vez.

En seguida mi cuerpo comenzó a temblar y rogar que esos sentimientos de odio, temor y muerte se pudieran liberar y a mi espíritu por fin dejar.

Es difícil recordar los momentos en los que uno feliz era. Donde las sonrisas eran puras y llenas de energía y no hechas para complacer a los demás. El amor y el odio se sentían apasionados y, con tan sólo pensarlo, el cuerpo ardía, pero no quemaba.

Todavía sigo luchando. Mi cuerpo ha parado de temblar, pero mi mente, oh, mi mente, aun encarcelada por los demonios que, un día, sin avisar, desprevenida me tomaron.

Tanto ha sido el tiempo desde aquélla vez que se me ha hecho imposible diferenciar entre mi ser y el de ellos.

Si bien he deseado hacer el esfuerzo de recordar quién era yo, lo único que veo es una luz blanquecina; lo único que escucho son gritos de una, dos, tres y, finalmente, un coro de personas. Con seguridad puedo decir que una de ellas soy yo.

Tras escuchar mi grito sollozante y sofocador, mi cabeza explota con impetuoso dolor y mis demonios en personas se empiezan a transformar. ¿O me equivoco, Margarita? ¿Juan? Aún me pregunto dónde se metió Deida.

¡Cállate!, me dicen. Lo lamento, pero ya tengo que partir. Y fue por eso que un día a escribir me puse, para así, por fin, poderme liberar.

Alo es una niña con una personalidad introvertida, callada pero siempre acertada en el momento de hablar. Piensa de forma crítica. Es muy objetiva. Es empática. Siempre piensa las cosas antes de hablar y nunca se deja llevar por primeras impresiones.Es amorosa con los animales y perfeccionista a excelencia en todos los aspectos. Es una buena chica. Por Alberto Aranda y Ariadna Juarez

Simonne es una persona atlética, sana y naturalmente competitiva. Es muy comprometida y responsable con todo lo que se propone hacer. Es una persona muy sabia y es de esas personas a las que recurres por buenos consejos. Nunca le desearía el mal a nadie y siempre busca mejorar y ayudar a otros. Tiene un corazón de oro para aquellos cercanos a ella. Una persona inigualable a la que quiero a montones. por Liseth Cervantes

I was falling, at the same time I was feeling how just everything vanished, in a glimpse I was able to see all I had lived through. Every single moment of my short life disappeared in less than a second. How did I get here? It was too late when I tried to answer the question. I had underestimated him.

It was November 4 when I first met her. I clearly remember that day like a significant day in my life. I went to the psychologist for the first time. My brother John has always told me I am a brilliant young boy but too shy and weird to be part of a normal social group. My childhood was really hard, I grew up without my father, and he left us when we were 3 years old. My mother was a strong woman who fought and worked tirelessly to provide us the essential things in our life. Suddenly the secretary called me. My hands were sweating like I was sitting on the edge of a building. I entered the room. The sun illuminated the whole white room. The atmosphere was peaceful but even though I felt nervous. My thoughts were interrupted by this woman, who was sitting in front of me. “Hello”, she turned to see the book she held, “take a seat dear there’s no need to be afraid.” -

“Hello Dr. McConaughey.”

I was lost in her eyes for a moment. “You are here because someone sent you, am I right? Not because you wanted to be here.” -

“Yes ma'am” I replied insecure.

“Please, call me Rebecca.” She told me with a solid but tender voice. “Well, I´m here to listen to you and also I just want you to know that you can talk about anything with me, nobody judges you in here.” -

“Thank you… Rebecca…”

“So?”

“For me it's difficult to start a conversation with a person, as you already may know. But it's not that I don't want to be here, but my brother forced me to come. I feel good, I like how I look and how I am I just feel that I don't fit in society and I don't know why. It's really frustrating.”

Suddenly I started telling everything about my childhood to this woman I’d just met. I realised I had never felt this way before. The atmosphere of our conversation was completely comfortable despite her being a stranger to me.

After the appointment with the psychologist, I couldn't stop thinking about her. She treated me like a friend. I was so nervous but at the same time so comfortable. As a kid with a difficult childhood and teenage years I was never too close to girls, so I was astonished with this beautiful woman.

At dinner, I talked with my little brother. John is only 2 years younger but he is just the opposite of me. Our relationship as brothers is normal. We could fight or laugh but still we would support each other as a family. He had the habit of telling everything he did throughout the day. I would listen to him just as my mom did everyday. “Hey Nick! You wouldn’t believe what happened to me today, he said excited, I was in class and the professor asked something about criminal Law to this woman I can't remember her name but she was so nervous I could easily tell she was about to cry. So I decided to answer for her. I’ve never seen someone so nervous. Actually she reminded me of you. Oh! By the way, how was your appointment today?” He said with enthusiasm. -

“It was fine I guess, you know it was the first appointment so we talked a lot about

me.” “Oh Nick you’ll see everything will get better.” said mom, “Does someone want a little more salad?”

As the days passed I continued visiting Rebecca, who became my only friend, but she was too professional and kept herself a little distant. She medicated me to control my anxiety and my uneasy attitude. I started feeling dizzy and I noticed that my anger and depression got even worse. While I was battling with my strange behaviours my brother as usual got a new girlfriend. I could see him very interested and enthusiastic about her, actually I had never seen him so happy. He would talk about her every single day. He described her as a sweet girl, big blue eyes and an amazing friend and many other things I can’t remember. I started finding there was something wrong with my memory, for lapses of time I´d lose the sequence of the events in 72

time. What was happening to me?

One day John invited this girl to have dinner with us. In the moment I saw her, her face was very familiar to me, something about her was so exciting but at the same time there was something odd about her I couldn’t explain in that precise moment. Until a week later, I went to the drug store looking for the medicines Rebecca prescribed me. Coincidence of life led me to Jack, mom’s doctor. “Hey, Nick, what you’re doing in here! Is everything all right with your mom? Anything I can do for you?” “Good afternoon Jack, I’m in a hurry. I’m trying to find these medicines I can’t find anywhere. Would you give a hand?” -

“Oh yes of course Nick, for sure. Let me see what you’re looking for.”

Turned out to be, that according to the prescription, this medicines were only prescripted to people with psychopathic patterns. -

“Who prescripted this kind of medicines Nick?”

“Oh, a psychologist from the Institute of Health and Rehabilitation, she’s Dr. McConaughy. Maybe you know her, you worked there don't you?” Yes I’ve been there for almost 10 years, but I don’t remember any Dr. McConaughy. Actually her name should be written in the list of doctors at the institute. Let’s search.”

She wasn’t on the list. That was the time I realised there was something wrong about her.

I continued visiting her just as usual and I stopped taking the pills to see what was really happening. One day I decided to confront her, I didn't know exactly how but I did it. “What kind of psychologist are you supposed to be? you are freaking crazy, how would you do this to me? Everything was fine between us, what have I done to you?” I said angrily. -

“Nick you haven’t taken your pills, you don't know what youre talking about. You are being illogical with the things you're telling me. Don’t you understand? I’m your only friend, not even your brother John is there for you, nor your mom. And let’s not talk about Dave.” “Wait, what? How do you know my father’s name? I’ve never told you anything about him.” “You know what, I can’t continue pretending to help someone who is just as insane and crazy as his father. I don’t want to see you anymore.” She got hysterical in seconds, her eyes grew bigger and her face was red as a tomato. She started yelling nonsense. She was a total stranger to me. Then she took out a knife, and tried to hurt me. I went out running but I was still perplexed so I decided not to tell anything to anyone. When I first met her I wouldn’t have believed this beautiful and sweet woman could be this emotionally unstable and bipolar as the one who was holding the knife.

Afterward the pieces of the puzzle were completed the day I was walking downtown.

I founded my little brother walking with this girl he was obsessed with. I got so angry when I realized who she was that I run towards my brother to pull him away. John was completely confused. He pushed me and asked me what was wrong with me. I couldn’t explained myself and Rebecca started crying saying she was afraid of me. My brother was furious with me and walked away without letting me explain. That night no one was home, I was at the rooftop of my house, staring at the stars while thinking how to tell my brother about this psycho woman. Suddenly she appeared in the dark night watching me with those big eyes and that pleasure smile. -

“What are you doing here? You’re crazy! What's wrong with you?”, I said.

“You know Nick, coincidences in life could be planned. I thought you were smarter.” She said with a dominant but passive voice. “Nobody has the right to judge me, especially you. You are the one who is insane here, not me. Now, please, stop dating my little brother. He’s much more than you are.” -

“Oh honey, you don’t know for how long we’ve been together. You barely realised 74

this afternoon?” She laughed mockingly. “You don’t know anything about me, and what I am capable of.” “Oh sure, now I know I don’t know you anymore. What happened to that sweet and tender woman I met months ago?” With trembling voice…, ““That woman disappeared 20 years ago, when the bastard of my father left me in the rubbish for two illegitimate sons, and of course he sold himself for a vile prostitute.” Astonished, I now knew she was the one that father had always told us about in my childhood days. That’s why, the most of the time he used to talk about a girl, even in his dreams. -

“No, no, no, this can’t be. You are lying to me. You are a liar!”, But I knew the

truth. Rebecca came closer, closer and closer like she wanted to trap me and never let me go. She was furious but jealous at the same time. She was there to end our little family but first she was coming for me. Suddenly, she raised her hand with the same knife she threatened me the last time I was in the white room. The anger inside grew and i lost control instinctiv reacting to protect the ones i love the most, I killed her. -

“I thought you were smarter dear.”, I said and pushing her to fall from the roof.

Publicación anual del Colegio Williams de Cuernavaca. Luna 32, Col. Jardines de Cuernavaca, C.P. 62360, Cuernavaca, Morelos, Publicación anual del Colegio Williams de Cuernavaca. México. Tels. +52 (777) 316-04-67 y 322-36-40Luna 32, Col. Jardines de Cuernavaca, C.P. 62360, Cuernavaca, Morelos, México. Tels. +52 (777) 316-04-67 y 322-36-40