#5. One Picture. One Story. || RUN!

WARNING: Look carefully at this picture because it has so much to tell you. 

I don't remember my name. I don't remember who I am. Neither I know what I'm doing here or where I'm going but there is one thing I'm really sure about: I'm runing away and I have to get away as far as possible from this place that imprisons me, that makes me feel insignificant. 

I run through the small and uncrowded streets. Avoiding dustbins, beggars lying on the ground and water puddles. The street does not seem very safe, I feel the danger in every inch of my body but that doesn't stop me. I keep running because I know they come after me, many are my persecutors and if they reach me they can kill me without any hesitation. And although I'm way ahead of them, they will end up reaching for me, I know.

"I have to reach an avenue, somewhere more crowded" 

I say to myself.
I keep telling me those words so that, at least, I can have hope.

I get to the center of this huge city, the traffic flows, people walk from one side to another. With a known  or unknown destination they keep walking. Some go faster than others but I'm there, in the middle, still, contemplating everything around me. All those lights, sounds and tall buildings. But none of this sounds  are familiar to me. None of what I see makes memories come to my mind. I've never been in this city before. I have never visited this city before. And  I don't know what I'm doing here. 

I take a deep breath.

I close my eyes and try to calm myself.

After awhile I open my eyes and start running again. 

Now I avoid people. People that seem respectable. People who dress well. People looking at me in surprise and that deviate to the side to let me pass. People that point to me with their finger. People who wonder what I'm doing on the street, running barefoot and in a white dress. People that label me as mentally ill. People that don't realize I'm there. But none of them know what is going on right now, what I have suffered, or from what I'm running away.

When I feel that I could escape, that I could finally be free, my luck is twisted. I cross a street without looking to the sides. A car is coming too fast. I get hit. The car takes me ahead. I fall to the ground and hit my head.

A circle of people forms around me, some wonder what has happened to me or who I am, there are others who are more intelligent and call an ambulance, some even call the police.

Then I feel that I separate from my body, my mind is being separated, it moves away from that circle of people, from the noise of cars. I see how my arms are covered in scratches. My face is hidden by my hair, hair matted with blood. But that, at this moment, produces no reaction in me.

My mind goes away more and more and the memories start to flow.

A park. Ten years ago.

 It is a spring morning and an eight year old girl is sitting alone with a backpack in her arms. I look over at her, her face, her hair and I recognize her. It's me. But I don't know how I got there or what I was doing there, alone.

Then, another memory, this time in a house. 

A lady waves goodbye to me, she gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves: My mother. My mother left me in charge of another woman, my nurse. As soon as we were alone she gets me out of home and we get into a car. 

We leave, and now I know it's for ever.

Again my mind returns to the eight year old girl sitting in the park. 

After a two hour trip, the little girl waits for her nurse as she has gone to the gas station to buy food. After awhile she's back. They get into the car again and keep travelling. It's already late at night.

When the trip is over the woman puts me in a little but homely bedroom but I'm afraid because I haven't been there before. I cry, scream and don't stop calling my parents, my grandparents and then my parents again. And at that time, sick of the noise I've been making they lock me in a darck room on the basement.

The room from which, after ten years, I managed to get away. A wet room, without light.

Then another memory, in that same park seven years after that trip.

It was one of those few times they let me go out to the fresh air. My looks are very deteriorated, I'm too skiny and dressed in big clothes that don't suit me. Tears stream down my face while I read the worn page of a newspaper. 

And then I remember. 

That article that talked about me, my family, my disappearance and how they had not stopped looking for me. The tears of sadness turn into tears of joy and a smile that has no other meaning than hope is being  formed on my face.

 And between the lines of this article I find myself, the person I am and that has been taken in an evil way. I find my name, Ariana. For me it is much more than a name. Much more.

I move away from that scene and slowly my mind returns to the present, to my current situationto, that car accident. I had fainted and I'm slowly recovering. I'm opening my eyes and I'm getting used to the light. Again, I hear the sounds of traffic, the bustle of people.

_ She's waking up!

_ Miss?

_ Keep calm, we are here to help you.

_ Your name?

Too many voices, too many noise.

_Ariana.

_ Is it your name?

_ Yes.

_ How did you get here?

_ Kidnapped. I was kidnapped ten years ago.

And I can finally relax again and get carried away by the fatigue that suddenly invaded me. I feel I'm on the stretcher in the ambulance, and I dream of seeing my parents at the hospital.

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All the stories found in this blog are written by both of us, and are original. Don't use them without asking our permission first.

# 4 One Picture. One Story. || The Necklace

WARNING: Look carefully at this picture because it has so much to tell you. 

WARNING: Contemplad atentamente esta imagen porque tiene mucho que deciros.

      It was the first thing his eyes fell upon as he unlocked the door. That necklace, her necklace, lay on top of some book, probably a classic from her collection. It conferred quite a picture, of utter sophistication and brought back a recollection of happy memories that were no more. He hadn't been near the place since the day she had gone, he hadn't been home much for that matter. Those solitary walks he always felt an aversion towards were his lifestyle now. A man as resigned as him would hammer his own feet if you asked him to.

    2 months and 11 days. Who knew two months could feel like a lifetime? He unquestionably hadn't. They certainly went by a breeze was with him. And now, standing inside her territory, he could trace her scent against the backdrop. Slightly, he compelled himself to gaze fully at the necklace, it was unimportant yet important. The first present he had ever given her, a symbol of endearment, and even though many followed, they could never capture her heart.

She disentangled the felt ribbon with her nimble fingers, as he watched leaning against the doorframe. The wrapping fell at her feet and the chain glimmered in her hands as she held it out. 

'Do you like it?'

'I think you already know the answer to that.'

He saw her feel the finesse and wipe a lone tear on her glowing cheeks.

'You never told me you liked jewelry.'

Her next words startled him. 'I could never afford any'

'And all this time you never asked me for a single piece?'

She just gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and held out the chain with the heart shaped locket for him as he placed it on the neck of the most beautiful woman in his eyes. And  she turned around for him to admire it..

    Recollecting this, he broke out of his reverie, sat down on the bed, smoothing out the linen. A necklace is for the neckline, at least that's what he had heard.

'You know it's a necklace, not a bookmark.'

'I know, stop teasing me! I want it to stay in my foresight all the time.' And that was where he found it most of the time.

When he came home that dreadful night, she was nowhere in sight. He regarded the clock striking 6 'o' clock. Expeditiously, he rang her cellphone only to find it buzzing inside the house. He swore under his breath before pacing heavily. It was approximately 8;30 when the doorbell finally rang.

'Where the hell have you been? I was dead worried over here.'

'I went to return some books at the library and ran into someone.' She told as she draped her scarf upon the couch, not quite meeting his eye.

'Who exactly?'
'A cousin.'

'Which cousin?' He forced upon his words.

A shadow fell over his face as she uttered a barely discible name. 

'That same cousin who fancied you and whom all your family deemed a much better match than a outsider?'

'Yes- I mean No! But he just wanted to talk. We have been best friends since we can remember. He has been a important part of my life and he just wanted back our friendship!'

'I assure you, friendship is not only what he desires. Does he preside over the library often? Is that why you're always there?'

He knew he had made a mistake even before the words left his mouth.

'How dare you?' Anger shone in her eyes. 'How could you accuse me of- of such a low thing? I'm out of here!'
    
   He saw her pick up her jacket and slam the door on the way out. But he was too stubborn and egoistic to stop her, and he payed for it. He made the worst mistake of his life.

     It was December 31st now, snow enveloped the windows as he ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He worried she would be cold, she was never careful. Gently, he picked up her necklace and dashed outside to find her, to find her and to bring her home, back to his life as the New Year moon was bright in the sky.

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All the stories found in this blog are written by both of us, and are original. Don't use them without asking our permission first.

# 3 One Picture. One Story. || A letter For You.

WARNING: Look carefully to this picture because it has so much to tell you. 

WARNING: Contemplad atentamente esta imagen porque tiene mucho que deciros.

(ENGLISH)

Dear Unknown :

Yes , however it may seem odd that you found this letter in the middle of this big world called Internet in which the first words you read were " For you." As strange as it may seem for you to be reading this. Although you do not know who has written it , nor why , nor why it is you who right now it's reading it . Although you may feel strange , please be sure to read it, do not throw it , not until you finish it.

I guess when you feel a deep feeling for someone you do not have have difficulty expressing how you feel with him/her, the things he/she makes you feel when you look deep into his/her eyes, as he/she whispers your name , the way he/she cares for you and protects you. It's not difficult . But writing a letter to someone you do not know, someone you have not been with, is more difficult. More complicated. But even if keep reading because this letter is for you. This is a letter from an anonymous to a stranger . A letter to make you smile , to make you happy. I'll start again , this time for real .

Dear Unknown :

I love you for the way you walk down the street , the way you move, for every step you take without doubting for a moment , the way you always know the direction you need to take .

I love you for how you smile at the people who cross your path and because even if you do not know them, if they speak to you, you respond kindly .

I love you for how you act with older people in the street, how you attend them and help them .

I love you also for how you act with children , with those creatures who play with you and although at some point you get tired of them , you keep paying attention to them.

I love you because you're there at the right time and you will not go if someone needs you.

I love you because in the hard times you do not flinch , you do not abandon those who most need you.

I love you because you know how to act, because you know how to behave .

I love you for the things you do well , but especially for those who you do wrong because despite them you do not quit .

I love you because you do not know who I am but you still read the letter, because even though I may be wrong you can relate to what I said , because you want it to be true .

I love you because I know it's all true .

I love you because I know you're a good person, because if youare not you still try to be one.

But what is certain , if you get here , is that I love you because you read this letter, because my effort was worth it .

I love you because I know I've made ​​you smile .

Even more true,  is that I am not the only one who loves you, but all the people around you and who you do know , love you much more than me.

Anonymous .

(SPANISH)

Querido Desconocido:

Sí, por muy raro que te pueda parecer haberte encontrado esta carta en mitad de la calle dentro de un sobre que lo único que tenía escrito era “Para ti”. Por extraño que te parezca estar leyendo esto. Aunque no sabes quien la escribe, ni porqué, ni tampoco porqué eres tú el que en este momento la está leyendo. Aunque te sientes extraño, por favor, no dejes de leerla, no la tires, no hasta que la termines.

Supongo que cuando sientes un profundo sentimiento por alguien no tienes dificultades en expresar como te siente a su lado, las cosas que te hace sentir cuando te mira profundamente a los ojos, como susurra tu nombre, como te cuida y como te protege. No es nada difícil. Pero escribir una carta a alguien que no conoces, a alguien con quien no has estado, es más difícil. Más complicado. Pero aún así sigue leyendo porque esta carta va para ti. Esta es una carta de un anónimo a un desconocido. Una carta para hacerte sonreír, para hacerte más feliz.  Voy a volver a empezar, esta vez de verdad.

Querido Desconocido:

Te quiero por la forma en que andas por la calle, por cómo te mueves, por cada paso que das sin dudar ni un instante, por como sabes siempre la dirección que tienes que tomar.

Te quiero por como sonríes a la gente que se cruza en tu camino y porque aunque no los conozcas, si te hablan, respondes amablemente.

Te quiero por como actúas con las personas mayores en la calle, por cómo les atiendes y les ayudas.

Te quiero también por como actúas con los niños, con esas criaturas que juegan contigo y que aunque en algún momento te canses de ellos, sigues prestándoles atención.

Te quiero porque estás ahí, en el momento preciso y no te vas si te necesitan.

Te quiero porque en los momentos duros no te echas atrás, no abandonas a quien más te necesita.

Te quiero porque sabes como actúas, porque sabes cómo comportarte.

Te quiero por las cosas que haces bien, pero sobre todo por las que haces mal porque a pesar de ellas no te rindes.

Te quiero porque no sabes quién soy pero sigues leyendo la carta, porque a pesar de que me equivoque te identificas con lo que he dicho, porque deseas que sea cierto.

Te quiero porque sé que todo es cierto.

Te quiero porque sé que eres buena persona y porque si no intentas serlo.

Pero lo que es seguro, si has llegado hasta aquí, es que te quiero porque has leído esta carta, porque mi esfuerzo ha valido la pena.

Te quiero porque sé que te he hecho sonreír.

Aunque más cierto es que no soy la única que te quiere, sino que toda la gente que tienes a tu alrededor y que si conoces te quieren y mucho más que yo.

Anónimo.

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All this stories found in this blog are written by me don't use them without asking my permission first.

Todas las historias que se encuentran en este blog estan escritas por mí no usarlos sin pedirme permiso primero.