Story

The thing in the jungle

I don’t remember the reasons that led me to leave home. Maybe it was a moment of anger, possibly the excruciating weight of the unending routine. Or an urgent need to find the answer to a question that was never asked.

Now I was lost in the middle of the jungle that, over the years, had regained its dominance over the city. The shapes of the buildings and vehicles that had been buried by the vegetation could still be guessed. Things that I never knew and that I have only seen in the old videos at the library.

There was a time when this place was crowded with the noises of diverse engines and the bustle of voices mixing without harmony. Now there are only the murmurs of the jungle, the incessant hum of insects, the occasional songs of the birds, and the calming sound of the wind swaying the vegetation. That orchestra had a hypnotic effect that soon made me forget why I was there.

Hundreds of eyes watched me from the anonymity provided by the undergrowth, all those presences observing my clumsy advance on the irregular terrain, but there was a pair of eyes following me with a particular curiosity. The owner of those eyes seemed to forget all precautions that are due to a stranger, the sound of dry leaves crushing behind me confirmed that it was just a few steps away. I could hear its heavy breathing a few inches away from me just before I turned around and found myself face to face with the creature.

I cannot calculate the number of thoughts that attacked me when I had it in front of me, the mixture of terror and astonishment that this creature provoked in me made it impossible to reach a clear conclusion. The resemblance between us was impossible to ignore, and certain words that I once read arose from my memory “In our image, after our likeness”.

When his finger touched me, I wished I had the ability to cry. We were so alike that I felt the immediate sensation of responding to his gesture, but my bewilderment prevented me from doing so. However, there were some differences that worried me even more. The first one is that the creature was almost entirely covered in hair, the second one was the proportion of its limbs since its arms were longer than mine and its legs shorter, and the last one is that this being was breathing.

It suddenly turned around and left losing itself again in the thickness of the jungle, the sound of footsteps behind me scared it away.

“I have been looking everywhere for you”, my brother said when he arrived by my side.

“I have seen a human; I have met our creators.” I told him while looking into his eyes.

“Humans are extinct, that was an orangutan.” He answered me outlining a smile as we turned to go home.

Tears of chenille

Her door opened in the middle of the night. The doorknob thumped against the wall, and the voices coming from the hall rode in screams into the room. The girl’s eyelids went so wide that her eyes looked like they were going to escape, and her mouth closed so tightly that she could feel her teeth gnash.

A lamp in the living room gave off the only light illuminating the house that night. A couple of shadows were projected against the wall that was right in front of her door. The larger figure twisted over the smaller one, flapping its hands as if it was trying to destroy it. The smaller figure seemed wanting to stretch out, trying to defend itself and shaking violently.

Her father paced back and forth, yelling words she was not allowed to say. He was taking things from all places and throwing them into a suitcase that already contained more than it could handle. Her mother was crying with rage and clenching her fists against her body while shouting other words she was forbidden to use.

They both stopped for a moment in front of the door. Her father said he wanted to say goodbye to the girl, but her mother said she would not allow it. He screamed that it was his right, she said a man like that had no right to get close to such a pure and innocent girl. Then came more shouting of adult words she didn’t understand.

The door to the street opened, and both figures turned into shadows. Then came the noise of a suitcase spilling its contents across the room, and more screams. Heavy footsteps in and out of the house. Things banging in her parents’ room. The sound of an engine. Squealing tires. A neighbor yelling. Voices turning into whispers. The street door closing. Silence.

The girl clung to her blankets. She searched for her teddy bear, but it wasn’t in its habitual place by her pillow. As she moved, the tears that had pooled in her eyes trickled down her face. She stood still for a while, feeling she should cry, but she couldn’t. She needed her bear. She started looking for it between the covers and under the bed, but it wasn’t there. Suddenly she saw it lying face down, trapped between the bed and the nightstand. She thought he must be terrified and reached out for it. Tears kept slipping from her eyes and fell on the bear’s back.

When she managed to take it, she took him to her side and got him under the sheets. She hugged him with all the strength she had and knew that he was as scared as she because he was full of tears. They comforted each other, vowed to be brave, and left the room holding hands. They walked into the living room, the door was ajar, and they could hear several voices whispering outside. Her mother was talking with the neighbors.

She decided to sit on the couch and turn on the TV. A man was talking about the most wonderful vacuum cleaner in the world, capable of getting rid of all the dirt and reaching the most difficult places. She wondered if it could wash away the tears and make everyone happy again.

Her mother entered the room and closed the door behind her. She approached her and hugged her with the same strength with which she had hugged her bear moments ago. The bear was caught in the middle of the hug. He couldn’t stop crying.

The girl asked about her father. Her mother replied that he would not return that night. Then she asked when he would return, and her mother told her that they should go to sleep. That question would be answered years later with a letter from a man apologizing for his absence and speaking with empty words about pride.

The sorrow taker

I still can’t understand the impulse that led me to speak to the woman on the corner. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know what she did for a living, it was obvious. She immediately told me the price as I went near her. I did not know what to do.

“No discounts.” She told me.

I took my wallet in front of her. I’d say it was my first mistake, but it was my third. While I was choosing the bills to pay the fare, her face quickly changed from an evident weariness to a mischievous smile.

I had never done anything like that, so I took her to the only place I knew: my house. After we entered, I offered her something to drink. She waited for me to drink first and said she wouldn’t start until I went on my second. I had already taken several drinks before noticing that she was still with the first one.

I told her my whole life and all my pains as if she were one of those dolls my grandmother liked so much and called quitapenas, which means sorrow takers. I don’t know when I fell asleep.

My house was empty when I woke up. In other circumstances, I would have felt heartbroken, but at that moment, I could only feel calm and joy because she took all my sadness with her. There was nothing left in my place that could bring me back bad memories.

Loose heart

Today I tried to rip my heart out. I woke up with the strange feeling that it was a little loose. I didn’t mind at first, but as the day passed by, the feeling became more and more annoying. I unconsciously began to push it a little, trying to accommodate it in its place. After a while, I began to feel that its place was no longer inside my chest.

At noon the discomfort became unbearable and I decided that the best thing to do would be to tear it off. I started by pulling a little on the arteries trying to get it to come off, but each movement was more painful than the last. I thought then that I should rip it off in one try. I approached a girl whom I found fascinating. She was one of those girls who can’t help but break men’s hearts. I tied my heart to her eyes with a silk ribbon and waited for her to walk away.

When she left, I felt a yank so intense I thought my heart had come off. But instead, I was left with a torn heart hanging from my chest supported only by a small swollen piece of flesh. The pain became excruciating to the point where the slightest breeze of air gave me stinging sensations.

I spent the last hours of the afternoon trying to ignore the pain but to no avail. The pain became more and more intense. For a moment I thought that suffering would kill me. My throat closed up and I wasn’t able to breathe. My vision began to close until everything went black. I started to feel so cold that I thought I would completely break down. Then the pain disappeared and along with it all my discomforts.

I discovered a black piece of meat lying in front of me. It was my heart that had detached at last. I haven’t felt so calm in a long time. I know I will sleep very well tonight.

The most terrible crime

Antoinette watched the clock that was in front of her. The second hand had advanced more and more slowly until it convulsed, like the leg of a spider that had been violently torn off. Then, it had stopped completely, announcing the death of time.

The corridor brought the murmur of distant laughter. They belonged to the children playing outside, unaware of the death of time. Also ignorant of Antoinette’s terrible crime, the reason for which she was at that moment, outside of time, sitting on that cold bench, clinging to her seat with her little fingers. Fearing that, if she let go, the universe would break.

For a moment she thought that perhaps it would be better to live in a shattered universe now that time had died, instead of facing what awaited her on the other side of the door. The consequence of her terrible crime, the cause of that guilt that rattled on the back of her neck like a woodpecker that grew stronger and stronger.

From the other side of the door came a persistent sound, perhaps it was hundreds of spikes crashing against some stones. Then there would be the sound of a car being pulled, and then the spikes would come again. This is how hell must sound, like a mine.

Antoinette wanted to get away from that place and run towards the flowers in the garden. She thought about how much she liked to talk to them and tell them her secrets, knowing they would never reveal them. She then remembered how they withered when she told them sad things. Surely, they would all die if she confessed what she had done to them.

A tear trickled down her face and landed on one of her shoes. She then noticed that her socks were dirty. Her mother didn’t like her getting dirty. And her father would be upset to see her cry. It didn’t matter anymore; they couldn’t love her after what she had done. She was about to cry when she realized that the sound of the spikes had stopped. The door opened. The hour of her sentence had arrived.

A very tall man called to her with a serious voice from the other side of the door. She wiped her tears with her sleeve and stood up. Each step she took toward the door seemed heavier. She felt her stomach try to rise and hide behind her heart. But her heart was shrinking and wouldn’t be able to hide it.

In an instant that seemed violent to her, the door closed behind her. She was now exiled from the world. The tall man invited her to sit in the chair across from the desk. Antoinette walked over to the desk, looking at the guillotine that rested on it. She looked at the corpses of the sheets arranged in the trash can and imagined that her head would end up right there. As she walked, she felt that she could hear the voices of her parents and the teachers whom she had let down.

Antoinette sat in the chair. She heard the click of a second hand. There was a clock hanging on the wall that still did not know that time had died. The girl put her hands on her lap and watched the man as he arranged the typewriter that was in front of him, next to the guillotine.

The man fingered his tie and cleared his throat. He then looked at Antoinette with a disapproving gesture and put his fingers on the machine. He struck the keys, A N T O I N E T T E, each one sounding like a pick striking a stone.

The man kept writing. Maybe he wrote Antoinette’s crime, maybe her sentence. But that moment seemed so long to Antoinette that she believed that she would stay there, listening to the sound of the pikes and the running of the car until she herself, like the second hand, writhed a few moments before death.

The sound of the machine stopped. The man sighed. He looked into Antoinette’s eyes. She felt the man grew behind his desk and she thought she saw a reddish flash on the man’s face.

«You didn’t do your homework». The man finally said as Antoinette read the plaque on the desk: Principal Sanson.

Corazón flojo

Hoy intenté arrancarme el corazón. Desperté con la extraña sensación de que estaba un poco flojo. Al principio no le di importancia, pero a medida que fue avanzando el día, la sensación se fue haciendo cada vez más molesta. Comencé a empujarlo un poco de manera inconsciente, para tratar de acomodarlo en su sitio. Después de un rato empecé a sentir que su sitio ya no estaba dentro de mi pecho.

A medio día la molestia se volvió insoportable y decidí que lo mejor sería arrancarlo. Empecé jalando un poco las arterias intentando que se desprendiera, pero cada movimiento era más doloroso que el anterior. Pensé entonces que debía arrancarlo de golpe. Me acerqué a una chica que me pareció fascinante. Era una de esas chicas que no pueden evitar romper los corazones de los hombres. Amarré mi corazón a sus ojos con un listón de seda y esperé a que se alejara.

Cuando se fue sentí un tirón tan fuerte que creí que mi corazón se había desprendido. Pero en lugar de eso me quedé con un corazón desgarrado que colgaba de mi pecho sostenido solamente por un pequeño pedazo de carne hinchado. El dolor se hizo insoportable al punto en el que la más ligera brisa de aire me provocaba sensaciones punzantes.

Pasé las últimas horas de la tarde intentando ignorar el dolor, pero fue inútil. El dolor se fue haciendo cada vez más intenso. Por un momento creí que el sufrimiento me mataría. Se me cerró la garganta y no fui capaz de respirar. Mi visión comenzó a cerrarse hasta que todo se hizo negro. Empecé a sentir tanto frío que creí que me rompería por completo. Entonces el dolor desapareció y junto con él todos mis malestares.

Descubrí un trozo de carne negro tirado frente a mí. Era mi corazón que se había desprendido al fin. Hace tiempo que no me sentía tan tranquilo. Sé que esta noche dormiré muy bien.