Selección e introducción por: Ingrid Dallal Fratz
Cuando aprendemos un segundo idioma comenzamos palabra por palabra, frase por frase, traducimos cada cosa y tratamos de acomodarla en un contexto conocido y seguro. Conforme avanzamos y nos familiarizamos con la o las culturas de dicho idioma, cuando logramos crear un contexto nuevo, dejamos de traducir y esas palabras y frases se vuelven cotidianas, conocidas y parte de nosotros. Es entonces cuando podemos darnos el lujo de crear desde lo más abstracto, no desde la imitación. Ese crear abstracto es uno de los objetivos principales para quienes llegan a un nivel intermedio-avanzado en el aprendizaje del inglés, es decir, que logren relatar o escribir historias desde sus experiencias pero, sobre todo, desde su imaginación. Aquí está una pequeña muestra de un ejercicio de escritura creativa que hicimos durante el ciclo escolar. Las imágenes también son de su autoría. Gracias por su lectura.
By Mateo Rodríguez Stivalet
She finds herself on top of the tallest skyscraper in the city, the air cuts her face like knives. After the long chase there’s not enough time to contemplate the horizon made of enormous buildings, and Maya has almost no time to meditate on her next step, the decision that defines the rest of her life.
To fall and be forgotten or to lose her freedom, but keep living. If she chooses the latter, there’s no mercy and a non-existent future, even the loss of that fake hope. The last strand as she likes to frame it.
Falling, that’s all, just an eternal moment that saves Maya from the hell that she’ll live in if her decision is to stay.
And there’s that ethereal void that we all miss even though we’ve never been there. She’s now the fallen, the lost, the forgotten.
The Little Joy
By Sofía Molina
In a small community in Finland called Happiness lived Joy, a little girl who, since she was a baby, had the ability to make people happy when they saw her. Joy had a great gift since the people who were with her were happy, calm, and empathetic all the time.
One day Joy was playing on the beach and realized that someone she trusted a lot was performing a forbidden ritual, but she wanted to get closer to see what was happening. Unfortunately, she tripped over a rock and the person performing the ritual realized that someone was watching him. Joy started to run so he couldn’t see her, but what she did not know was that the ritual was being performed in her honor.
After a few months, Joy began feeling a little ill and with less energy. People in the community were beginning to feel a vibe of sadness and most of the people did not want to do anything. What they did not know was that this was just the beginning, little by little Joy was getting worse and instead of her being happy all the time she was sad and very rude to all the villagers.
Until one day the villagers decided to consult a wise healer who told them that the only thing Joy needed to feel as happy as before, was a big hug and a kiss from her true love…
By Diego Calvillo
Years ago in a small town in Greece there was a dog named Bloop. He was able to talk with people. Bloop liked to climb mountains and one day a big lightning hit Bloop giving him superpowers and Immortality.
One day Bloop realized that the god of the dogs wanted to take away his superpowers because his superpowers could destroy the world and that is why the “Big War of Dogs” began.
Hecate, the Greek goddess of dogs, began to recruit gods from other pantheons, like the Egyiptiyan god Anubis, Xolotl from the Aztec mythology. She recruited many dogs to help her kill Bloop and take his powers away.
When the War of Dogs began, Bloop fought against Anubis, Hecate, Xolotl and thousands of evil dogs. Bloop learned how to create a giant version of himself made out of blue chakra and with this power he was able to fight the powerful god dogs. Anubis wanted this blue chakra because if he got this superpower he would be able to destroy Greece and kill Bloop.
With this transformation of blue chakra, Bloop hit Anubis in the chest causing his death and destroyed all the evil dogs giving Bloop the win of the war.
Nowadays Bloop lives in Mexico and works for Televisa.
Memories after Death
By Alexia Tovar
Maggie has always enjoyed her job even if the people who knew her thought it wasn’t an appropriate job for someone as young as her. After graduating from college, she found an available position in a place near her house. She filled all the requirements, and some days later someone contacted her to welcome her into the company. Her boss mentioned that her heart was as strong as someone who is cold-hearted when it came about Maggie’s job, something that her boss never saw in anyone before. She wasn’t scared to complete her tasks, no matter how terrifying they could be for a first timer in this field.
One normal day during her busy shift, she experienced something unexpected. Who would believe that Maggie would be in charge of receiving her ex boyfriend’s corpse. She was petrified when her coworker told her the name of the victim – Miyamura. A name she hadn’t heard for a few years after beginning college.
Her reaction was unusual. Of course it would be if the body belonged to someone she knew.
“Maggie, is there something wrong?” her coworker, Ophelia, asked her. She shook her head, grabbed her gloves and proceeded to unzip the corpse’s bag. Memories of her last years in her high school life came back to haunt her when seeing the boy’s pale face. His face remained just like she remembered, but the years that passed were reflected in his calm expression.
Death is inevitable, that’s one of the first things Maggie told herself when she decided to work in the morgue. After two years of working there, she never encountered someone she had met. It was better to work with death people, they can’t see you, they can’t judge you or see through your soul. But in that moment, she felt that her unwanted memories were talking outloud. Perhaps it was regret, or perhaps she was relieved.
Maggie’s steps were slower than usual when she walked back home. Thoughts of everything and nothing kept coming and going. Right after entering her apartment located in the middle of the city, she spotted a letter on the floor. Picking the envelope, she noticed her name written on its surface. Confused at the sight, she opened a few seconds after picking it up. Her breath stopped for several seconds, not believing what it said:
I will come back to you.
Inside a piece of art
By Mariana Moctezuma
My name is Alice, I’m 120 years old and I’m trapped. No one knows me and no one remembers me. I see people passing by every day, without noticing I’m here. I live inside a painting in a famous museum. People just see me in a garden stepping on a bridge. Frozen in a movement. That’s what they see, but that’s not who I really am.
I received a spell at the age of 20, a curse. That’s not what I really wished for, what I really wanted, but it happened. And now I’m here, living the consequences. My biggest wish in life was to be an artist but my family couldn’t stand it so I wanted to run away from everything, and to be in peace alone, to be free to do what I wanted for my life. I used to look at beautiful paintings and deep down, I wanted to be part of one. I desired to look just as beautiful as art does to me and now, I do look perfect. My hair is always magnificent, looking as bright as gold. My eyes are like two diamonds, just as blue as the ocean. My dress is made with the finest fabrics. I’m surrounded by flowers, the clearest water you could ever imagine and the most beautiful and sunny sky.
But I’m alone and no one knows me. They just see a picture but not the real me, they see my art, but not the artist. At least, I can walk around the garden every time I want. I sleep under the shadows of the trees, listening to the birds singing. I get to see all the interested faces admiring and looking at me. But the reality is that I regret everything, the wishes I had and the actions I made. If I’m honest, being trapped in a portrait for 100 years is starting to get boring. And lonely.
At least, I can live my own creation, I can experience it, because I’m trapped in my own painting. Of course I didn’t paint it myself, that happened after, when I got trapped. I followed an antique tradition. It said that an old comet came every 100 years and fulfilled the most longed wish. I begged for hours, hopeful to be heard and I made the wrong wish or maybe not, maybe in that time, it was my biggest aspiration. The next morning, I woke up feeling the grass and the breeze of my own painting. I saw other’s lives pass with my eyes, without being able to live my own. I hope to see another comet someday, but I can’t, because time in my painting doesn’t pass.
Today it’s supposed to be another comet appearing in the sky, just like the legend says, but I’m here, in the painting so I’ll need to wait for a miracle to happen, just like I have done for 100 years.
Unless… I used my last chance. There’s an idea I kept to myself until today. It’s the only thing that motivates me and if it doesn’t work, I won’t find any other reasons to keep existing here, in this prison. I counted every day just by looking at the real sky, the one I can see from far away, through the crystal ceiling in the museum. I don’t think the comet will be visible from down here but if this is my painting, then I can modify it, if this is my creation then I can recreate it. I’ll paint my own comet. My last hope.
I wake up, but not inside the painting, outside. Seeing my artwork, without being part of it. I smile, ready to feel free. Ready to live my life.