Looking for something

This is a story of a man who had lost something. And for what he could remember, it was something very precious to him.
Everytime he tried to remember, tears began to kiss his Rossy cheeks.
This was a very lonely man, who had no family nor friends. The only purpose of this person was finding that precious lost thing, for him nothing else mattered.
Everyone called him the crazy man with the purple jacket, for one of the only things he remembered was that delightful color.
His usual routine was to walk from his house in the middle of the night to the nearby park, wearing as usual that purple jacket and weird old looking boots. And he looked everywhere, searching every corner of every place his old boots could take him.
You could hear people calling nasty names and making rude jokes. But he didn't seem to care, he seemed to be in a different world or reality.
The last place this man wanted to be was his house. Sometimes it took days and chilly nights before going back home. And he walked and walked and walked as slowly as he could. Many people wondered what was inside his mind, he always looked so calm and serene.
The time passed and passed and his dark brown hair became gray, and wrinkles began to show, showing what life had given him.
One lonely cold night he returned home, wanting nothing more but to seat in his old chair, behind his old dark wood desk that he had avoided so many year before. So while walking in his usual slow pace, he reached the door. Smelling and tasting the chilly air, the wind blowing his long grey hairs.
He opened the door, the only sound anyone could hear was the creaking sound of the door as it slowly opened.
He walked in his usual slow pace entering the long corridor, and he noticed a dim light as he was getting near.

As he passed the door, he remembered what was lost, what he had forgotten and tears began to show in the corners of his eyes. As he saw, seating on his favorite chair behind his desk that beautiful young woman, her purple eyes staring at him in a loving way, her long brown hair moving and that giddy smile, her long fingers pointing at his old typing machine.

Karla Yeme

Visitantes Nocturnos

Toc-toc-toc

Ese sonido hueco de la madera resonando en la distancia, me regresaba poco a poco a la realidad. Sin saber aun lo que pasaba, mi mente luchaba por encontrarle sentido a la situación, de pronto, un rayo de conciencia refrescó mi memoria.

Toc-toc-toc

Mi sonrojada mejilla expuesta a mi descuido sintió una caricia suave y casi delicada como una mano helada que mandaba escalofríos por todo mi cuerpo. Abrí los ojos rápidamente y ahí estaba sobre el buró de mi cuarto un par de destello rojos reflejandose sobre mi mirada, marcando la hora en que se acabaría mi descanso.

Toc-toc-toc

Ahí estaba, !el constante recordatorio de mi estupidez!

No hace ni dos noches, gracias a mi cansancio crónico, había cometido el mismo error y a lo largo de la noche fui emboscada por un par de pequeñas garras acicalandome el cabello, preparándose para dormitar; nunca olvidare el susto que me causo ese animal nocturno anidando en mi cabeza.
Volví a cerrar los ojos tratando de reconciliar el sueño y maldije en silencio, por ser tan tonta en volver a dejar la ventana abierta.
?y si vuelve a entrar el gato del vecino?

Toc-toc-toc

A la altura de mis pies sentí un peso, un tanto ligero, cuatro patas se acercaban a mi sigilosamente una en frente de la otra, pausado, curioso...?cansado?
Esta vez estaba lista -si... acercate mas- Su caminar era persistente y podía sentir como mi cuerpo sedia al peso del animal.

Toc-toc-toc

La sensación de su aliento sobre mi cuello me ofende. Empuñé firmemente la almohada como un arma de plumas lista para dar al blanco; puedo sentir como levanta su pata delantera, listo para empezar su ataque; me gire rápidamente para golpearlo.

Toc-toc-toc

Ahí ya no había nada... corrí hacia la ventana tal vez alcanzo a huir, abrí la persiana, lista para enfrentar a aquel intruso... La ventana estaba cerrada.

Toc-toc-toc

Catalina Navarro