Gone

It all was a terrible misunderstanding, as everything sometimes is. I was walking down an old path to the river, among the autochthonous trees and beneath the foliage that screened the sky, when I heard some screams of a girl down at the pier.

It was really distressing, hearing those desperate calls in the middle of the woods. Before long, I was running towards the shouts. As I approached to the beach, I could discern a girl lying on the sand, resting against one arm, to her side, her legs bent to the other and the other arm hidden to her front, as if she were covering her eyes with the hand in a gesture of desperate disconsolation. All this I saw from behind.

Ten years can change a person dramatically, especially when you are a critical person at times when you sense that something is wrong in the stare that people give at you. I felt watched over, as if they were waiting, not to say wanting, me to make a slip. I sometimes had a strong desire that everything were a make-believe, as that that they played back at elementary school. You were sometimes lured into some kind of trick to make a fool of you, and the feeling that you were left with was that of being completely nude, not of body, but of soul, that was always worse. This I have endured, and that is why I think I am still willing to make something out of my life. I loathed the idea of resigning myself to accept the tag of a person with misplaced ideas in his mind.

In the end, we all change; we all are susceptible of learning. I was not allowing myself to become the exception. It may have been the main reason why I could eventually succeed in not letting the forced events along my experience to push me into a place that I did not like. Tenacity is one of the most virtuous traits that anybody can ever wish for, and may be the one virtue that ever nature have bestowed upon me.

I remember I was coming close to her, when she suddenly turned her face to her left shoulder. I could notice her face swelled and red around her eyes.

But it is longer, when pain is borne beneath the veil of silence. That is a task only carried off by those who bear the characteristics that a person tenacious is in possession of. But this silence is harder to cope with when it is the result, not of lacking the courage to express it openly, but when those around have the incapacity of understanding that that you have. It is then that any attempt at expressing yourself renders barren. Silence is then not a choice, but an imposition; not the product of arbitrariness, but rather of random disposition of the soul. It is easier to change the ways in your self than it is to change the ways in others.

I came to stand by her. She kept untelling. I asked her a second time what was going on, but she remained speechless. It was then that I made my way to the shore. There I found the clothes of another person, a boy’s clothes; but the boy seemed absent from any sight. I next turned my eyes towards the girl. I was wringing my brains out to produce an understanding out of the scene.

­ Are you on your own? – I asked a third time.

­ I …, eh… – she muttered in a broken voice.

I was beginning to feel sort of awkward.

­ Are you here by yourself? – I insisted. No reply came in response.

My voice reverberating all along the riverbank was the only thing I got in return.

I wouldn’t know. Should I have to drop in; I really wouldn’t know. The passing of the years, the passing…I couldn’t possibly know. That we met that day was pure coincidence, but over the years I have come to ponder that it was a sort of universe self defence. That certain things are marked to happen at one or other time is what I sometimes consider to be the reason for certain other things to occur.

I stood contemplating the river, as in search for some clue. Resolute, I turned to were the girl was supposed to still be placed. But, to my surprise, a crowd of policemen were standing instead.

- Boy! May we have a word with you?

- Yes Sir. What is it? I was starting to lose firmness on my legs. I kept wondering what in god’s name did I involve myself in.

- There’s been this…distress call, so to speak. We were informed that an odd event has occurred ‘round this place.

- I heard some screaming, I was up there on…on the woods. So I came down… ‘ere.

- What did you find?

I looked at the sky, in search of some sort of sound explanation, but none came to my assistance. Then I heard a whisprer  in my ear: “tell them to see”.

Cuentos y Poesías por Cristhian Bourlot se encuentra bajo una Licencia Creative Commons Atribución 3.0 Unported.
Basada en una obra en cristhianbourlot.blogspot.com.ar.