Short narration: a vocabulary challenge

There was a big show coming up that night -- immense crowd, mysterious acts, delicate ladies. The magician prepared for all of that, shaking his wand to the beat of the music in his head. It was his night, his rising, his chance. 

Putting his cape and hat on, he looked at his image in the mirror once again. He smiled. His electric blue eyes, framed by thick, black eyeliner and eyelashes, imitate the dazzling lightning on a stormy night when women need a man to hold the most. And he loves to be that man. So there will he be -- in front of everyone, hidden behind the curtain until it falls and his slim figure welcomes the audience, arms wide open, brightest smile, as if he was the most innocent man. If only did they know it was all a package, the box of Pandora, a mask. 'Don't let the light fade,' he told himself that night in a mutter, as usual; 'don't let the lightning go away before the thunder strikes.'

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Facundo Pastor, periodista: «en este oficio todos buscamos contar buenas historias»

Image
Pastor  durante la charla en la Universidad Nacional de La Matanza. El periodista Facundo Pastor reveló que hace cinco años tuvo un problema en las cuerdas vocales y que, por eso, su nuevo libro «Isabel» es «sobre el silencio», en el ma rco de una charla por el mes del periodismo, en la Universidad Nacional de La Matanza. «Me pasaba que sentía que Isabel Perón tenía muchas cosas para contar – explicó -, y fui un poco tras ese camino: el silencio de ella, el silencio en que entraba el país el 24 de marzo de 1976, y tal vez algunos silencios míos». Tras provocar risas en su público al contar que fue «abordado por las chicas de medios», quienes querían hacer un «ping pong», el abogado se sinceró: «Me sentiría incómodo diciendo que está muy bueno lo de las redes». «Sería muy necio de mi parte desestimar este medio de comunicación», admitió el conductor, y consideró que «está bueno, es un atajo”, pero aconsejó a los periodistas «buscar otros caminos». El escritor se manifestó también so...
Read more

GloPoWriMo Day Three

Today I'm not working with the optional prompt because I came up with an idea in Spanish. Here's the result: Mi pequeña iglesia está En un pequeño barrio donde Mi madre y su pequeña familia no Vivieron, pues lo hicieron en una pequeña casita Mi pequeña iglesia está Donde hay asfalto agrietado o marcas de llantas Que se levantan con el viento; Hay perros de pelaje desaliñeado o demasiado largo Crece pasto entre baldosas descoloridas, Y oigo decir que los chicos que venían Hace pocos años a la escuelita Ya tienen dos hijos Huelo el humo del domingo al mediodía Veo familias sentadas Disfrutando lo que tienen, Gente como yo, con sueños y pasados Pero lo único que pienso es Que mamá tendrá que lavar mi saquito Y que pronto se secará Apesar de las nubes oscuras en el horizonte
Read more

You finished high school

Image
You finished high school. You don’t know what to feel like as you walk home from the mall. You had gone out with your friends because today it was your last class. You had thought you’d have a great time with them, but there is some emptiness in your chest. You don’t know what to feel like. You don’t know what to think as you turn the key and open the door. ‘I’m home,’ you mindlessly say. Everyone was having such a great time that afternoon at the mall, but you sat down, back against the shopwindows, backpack against your chest, looking at your crush having fun with your friends. They were all friends. Were you theirs? You don’t know what to think. You thought of making a song about it. But you don’t know what to sing or play. As you leave your backpack on your floor, you don’t know what senses to feel. Suddenly you remember you have ears, and you listen to the sounds the neighbours make, the music they play, and the brushing against the leaves of the trees. Suddenly you remember...
Read more