quarta-feira, janeiro 5

3Guardando na prateleira histórias dignas de registo (III)

  Um desafio em Julho de 2008, sobre uma pintura publicada aqui neste mural da minha C(l)ave - Partilha de uma muito querida (4), um acrílico sobre tela da minha Autora da Capa de Memória Alada -, resultou num conjunto de histórias que só me lembrei passados quase 12 anos de recolher para memória, e que são dignas de serem lidas por quem se quiser dar a esse trabalho. 

Segue-se a parte III:

Uma Estória (7)

Sapo meu, sapo meu,
Quem é mais linda do que eu?
Sou eu,
Responde o sapo,
Sou eu!
Como é isso possível,
Sapo meu?
Como podes ser tu,
Mais lindo do que eu,
Sapo meu?
Sabes menina linda,
Não me conheces como eu sou,
Quem sou e o que posso fazer!
Quem te disse a ti
Que não sou um príncipe encantado,
Uma fada disfarçada,
Ou a mais linda das estrelas?
Porque te vejo,
Sapo meu,
E diante da tua "feiura"
Eu sei que sou bem mais linda,
Sapo meu?
Então aprende,
Menina linda,
Que nem tudo o que reluz,
É ouro,
E que quem vê caras,
Não vê corações.
Ia dar-te todo o meu reino
Ia fazer-te princesa,
Mas como só pensas em ti,
Nem quiseste saber de mim,
Fica a olhar-te ao espelho,
Por toda a eternidade,
Até ficares velha e feia,
Que eu volto
Para donde vim…

Por Joaquim do Que é a Verdade?

Is this a lesson?...

The winter came soon, as expected, and eventually it knocked on the door... Showing that it had no time to lose, it undressed on the whole all the trees that still had one or two leafs...
The winter, in its anger, spent the days tormenting the country side; tearing at old stone cottages, watching them weep crumbling pebbles and it kept the nights company with violent storms that shook all of California...

It was a day like many others... During the night the deafening storms didn't let me sleep... They broke every attempts… Even the old technique of counting sheep...

When sunrise I ran directed to the window, breathing a sigh of relief by knowing that all of that waiting had just finished.

With the forefinger I started to write some small words on the window that was totally steamy.
I had emigrated to that state some months ago. Some people say that this act was just a way to get away from my responsibilities… other ones say that it was simply to call the attention of the ones who were around me… Details aside, the truth is that the homesickness was being gradually felt inside, and the need of hearing that unique friend's voice was already being felt, too.

Maybe, to see a “Good Morning” outlined on the window of my small and modest bedroom would comfort me a little bit, even knowing that it was drawn by myself…
At the end of stare the word on the steamy window for some minutes, the curiosity to know what was in the other side of the window, made me put my hand over my "good morning" making it slowly fade away...

I peer though the misted glass at the outside. The snow was smooth over the landscape, seeming more like a way of seeing the world that actually something. I felt sorry for the trees which were tapped outside looking in at me, fighting against the cold. I hate to think of being out there, fighting my way through the snow, ice cold winds slapping me in the face, my feet cruching through the snow, my head down…

A big part of my days were shared with two homeless I met when I arrived at San Francisco International Airport. Two splendid people, I must say… They helped me adapting to that new city, so different of mine, showing always being ready to help with whatever I needed.

Ben and Matthew were two young Californian guys, natives of San Francisco. I’ve never understood what had happened with them to live in that way… They simply answer me that it was a subject of the past and they didn’t want to return there again… They added that they liked the starry sky and barely they would abandon it for one night… Both of them had an extraordinary vision of the life, a wonderful believe, a sincerity like I’ve never seen before... I felt myself safe in the presence of those two star lovers…

Although I saw on them two splendid and unique people all over the world, the society in general, didn’t see or feel the same thing…

Both Ben and Matthew didn’t have a very good reputation in that city… But they were very famous through it…By the simple movement executed by themselves, various eyes observed them… Glances that expressed distrust, fear,… They were judge and discriminated all the time only because they dressed jeans full of holes and their roof was the sky…

On that day… On that cold one… Ben and Matthew challenged me to stay in their “house” that night… I thought about that and the idea seemed a bit crazy, but exciting at the same time… So I decided to accept the invitation…

The night was cold and clear, I wrapped myself tightly in a coarse woolen blanket. We spelt the nights huddled together in a small place surrounded by cardboard boxes. It was dark and damp, but I felt safe. I looked up at the sky, it was pin pricked with stars. I sighed, and shut my eyes trying to get to sleep.

At the dawn of the day, the quick steps of someone woke me up… Wet by the rain and with cold inside, I sat on the floor and I looked around to observe what was happening.

It was a girl… I caught sight of her, running and saying some incomprehensible words between some drips and drabs, in the end of the street. The foggy and the distance didn’t let me see her face, but that wasn’t very important… I haven’t met many people in the city, yet. I was so sure that I wouldn’t know her if I saw her face...

However, to see a girl down, touched me inside… but what could I do?? I was just a trouble maker, always creating problems wherever I went… How could I help without creating more trouble?

Anyway, my instinct made me to get up and walk through the street accompanied by the tears of the sky which seemed to empathize with what the girl was feeling. Both in a perfect harmony...

Following the girl I ran through the fields, I climbed the mountain, until I didn’t see her anymore… I wouldn’t give up… To do all of that way for nothing wasn’t near of my options at all… I go on walking, looking for something that could give me a lead to find the girl.

Eventually, I got a glimpse of a house… It was the biggest and the oldest house I’ve ever seen. It seemed like a castle… There was a big space around it, where I guess that have existed a beautiful garden so many years ago…

While I observed the old mansion, depressed shrieks of a female voice came from the inside of the house…

Fear… Adrenaline rising… I only wanted to get out of that monstrous place… To run away to somewhere I could feel safe… And without thinking, I started to run back to the city… Shots were heard… Did someone hear my steps and want to catch me? The more I heard… The more I ran…

Finally I arrived to the garden… To the “house” where I stayed that night… There were my two star lovers… The only people I needed in that moment… They were gathed around me, asking questions I think, although even though they were so close and voices so persistence, I heard nothing, I was too busy replaying what had just happened in my mind. I sat there, expressionless. I was so confused, I felt so bad, so cowardly… “How was the girl at the moment? Dead?... Maybe…” I couldn’t think of anything else… This subject alone was making a terrible storm inside of myself... I should have done something, instead of running away… One more time, I acted as that bad, cruel human being, only thinking about myself and not caring about anything else around me…

Ben and Matthew where more and more restless with my silence…
Ben looked at me,
"You're not talking, what's wrong?" his deep smooth voice glided through the air, I found it comforting, however I said nothing. Matthew leant forward,
"You can tell us, you know." I looked into his eyes, his voice was lighter, almost bird like and did not have the soothing qualities of Bens, nevertheless it made me feel just as welcome. I slowly began to tell them...

Ben and Matthew got so surprised. They have already heard so many stories about crimes there, but none of them included a strange house with the description I did.
"Do you think we should go to the police" I asked Ben.
Ben looked troubled and rubbed his brow. His vision drifted to the floor for a moment, his face relaxed in absent minded thought. He turned back to me.
"No," he said, "the police ignore such reports, they think they are merely ghost stories."
“We can do it on our own… We can go there with you again if you feel better with that…” said Matthew agreeing with Ben.
“No! I don’t want... I just want to rest a bit... May I stay with you both again this night?” I answered stammering and expressing fear in my eyes.

Matthew nodded and smiled at me,
"Good idea, sure you can stay", however Ben was looking restless, his thoughts on other things, "sure she can stay, right Ben?" Ben was forced back into reality,
"Yes, yes," he said hurriedly, "yes of course."

As combined, I passed the night with them and I fell asleep observing the stars in the sky and thinking if the girl I listened screaming, still had the opportunity to do such a good thing…

The wind battered the street around me. It roared into my dreams and forced me awake. I lay on my side, starting at the frayed cotton in my blanket, hoping that soon I would be able to sleep, my mind wondering through events that have been, might happen or may have happened. I heard the light patter of rain start tapping a dance on the roof. I rolled on to my other side. I watched the dark out line of Matthew slowly rise and fall as he slept. I notice he spelt sound even though the wind’s noise shattered any of my feeble attempts to sleep. I wondered if Ben was asleep, I turned and looked for him. The sheets where he had been were ruffled, he was gone. My heart started beating faster, where was he, where had he gone, the night was so dangerous. I got up and went across to Matthew. I shook him.

“Matthew, Mathew!” I said urgently, “Wake up please, Ben’s gone, he’s gone, he must be out, Matthew wake up please.” he rolled over, suddenly awake.
“Gone?” he asked seriously.
“Yes gone” I stammered. Matthew rubbed his ear in thought.
“Where?”
“I don’t know, I just looked and he was gone” Matthew stood up and walked outside quickly, he stood, the rain dusting him. He pointed to a patch of mud in the ground.
“Foot prints” he said seriously, “they lead to the mountain.” I followed them with my eyes, straining to see through the dark.
“We have to go find him” I said. Matthew looked at me and nodded, and began to walk towards the mountain. I followed, scared.

While we were walking I had the sensation that I’ve already followed someone on that way… It was the same way I followed the girl. I followed Matthew until we arrived to the mansion. My heart started to beat faster, and with fear in my eyes I looked at Matthew.
“Matthew, wait… This is the house where I was yesterday… where I listened to the screams… the shots…”
“But the foot prints are in that way… They can be the direction to Ben…” told Matthew.
“And if they aren’t?”
“I won’t ever abandonee Ben and he can be in need of my help, do you understand?”
Matthew turned to the house, walked through its gates and without answer to him, I followed his wish.

Following the foot prints around the house, we found a door half opened. Matthew looked inside and entered.
“Anybody home?” he shouted.
Nobody answered…

Looking to the floor I saw wet foot prints like the ones which brought us inside the house and we followed them. Upstairs we found Ben, looking through the lock of a door.
“Thank God! You’re safe Ben…” said happily Matthew hugging his friend.
“Shhhhhhhhhhhhh!” said quickly Ben.
Worried with the situation I asked Ben,
“What’s happening inside? Why are you looking through the lock?”
“See with your own eyes…” said Ben with a tune of surprise in his voice.

I looked through it… I couldn’t believe… So young… A sweet face, body of a model, a fashion style; sitting on her knees in the corner of that room, looking at something green in her lap, both lightened by a chandelier which supported three candles.

It was the girl I’d seen the day before. Her long dark hair didn’t mislead anybody. I noticed that her lips were moving…Swimming in curiosity, I leaned my ear to the door to try to understand what the girl was saying.

“Why does it have to be like that?” I listened repeatedly.
What did such a beautiful young girl do locked in a dark room, whispering strange things to a frog with a tune of sadness in her voice?
I’ll never know… The last thing I remember is a strange voice behind me shouting,
“SO… DO THESE THREE MOTHER FUCKERS THINK THAT THEY CAN GOSSIP ABOUT MY BUSINESSES WITHOUT ANY CONSEQUENCE? DIE SONS OF A BITCH! DIE!”

Now I am here, in a place that seems like a cave, writing some lines of my life… Accompany by the death body of Matthew and seeing Ben starving right there, sleeping on the ground and thinking about when will come his time to leave me alone in the ruins of this four walls without any ray of believe… Always running away of my problems… Always running away of my life… Finishing in a place where I can’t run away anymore… Is this a lesson?


Por John do Smooth e Sofia do Sofia's Word
(parceria para dar resposta a este desafio)

Uma Estória (9)

Aborrecente(1)

Cheguei a casa por volta da 1. Eu sabia que o que te tinha prometido era outra coisa, mas não me digas que acreditaste quando fiz o meu ar angelical e te disse:
"Vou só a casa da Joana ver o quadro novo que ela está a pintar, venho antes das 11."
Se tu me entendesses eu escusava de te mentir, mas não, tu insistes em tratar-me como se eu fosse uma miúda. Não vês que eu tenho quase 16 anos?! Há até quem me dê já 17 ou 18. Agora que estou de férias tenho que aproveitar, além disso queria vestir as calças novas e o top. Fiquei mesmo gira.

Só tu é que não vês que os rapazes passam a vida atrás de mim e as raparigas também, ou isso, ou roem-se de inveja. Não percebes mesmo nada. Parece que paraste no tempo. Um tempo que deve ser o século XVIII ainda à luz de velas. És tão aborrecido. Os pais das minhas amigas são muito mais modernos que tu. Até tenho vergonha de dizer que és tão chato. Tenho e não digo. Era o que faltava, que soubessem que ficas à minha espera todas as vezes que eu saio para o sermão do costume e o castigo... Como se adiantasse. Eu fujo pela janela! Patético!
Tu estavas à minha espera, como eu previa.
"Isto é que são 11 horas? O que é que estiveste a fazer até esta hora?"
"Desculpa, mas distrai-me com a Joana e perdi a noção das horas." – desculpei-me. Acho que já não caís nesta, mas não custa tentar!
"Fartei-me de te ligar... tinhas o telemóvel desligado."
"Fiquei sem bateria..." – Lamentei-me.
Nem sei quanto durou o sermão sobre os perigos da noite, mas foi tanto, que deu para eu viajar no tempo. Encarnei uma princesa fashion, a ser entediada de morte. Tu não paravas:
"Crruac, crruac, crruac..."
E eu, a viver a estória da princesa aprisionada numa masmorra vazia, com o sapo repetitivo como guardião... como no quadro da Joana, que eu tinha visto no dia anterior, mas claro, eu sou muito mais gira!

Por Marta do Conto Aqui

(1) - [Nota da autora]: Aborrecente é o nome que dou a uma fase da vida pela qual todos passamos. Eu também fui um bocadinho aborrecente... um bocadinho grande.

6 comentários:

  1. ~~
    Também as acho histórias encantadoras e deliciosas,

    dignas de um bom arquivo.

    Boa semana, Fá. Beijinhos
    ~~~~~~

    ResponderEliminar
  2. Geniales historias . Te mando un beso

    ResponderEliminar
  3. Gostei...principalmente do nome aborrecente :)
    quem nunca o foi que atire o primeiro sapo :)
    Abraço*

    ResponderEliminar
  4. Escrever é um exercício libertador!

    😘

    ResponderEliminar
  5. Dava uma excelente continuação, assim eu e a prosa quisessemos alguma coisa um com o outro
    :-)
    Gostei muito.

    ResponderEliminar
  6. Maravilhoso e excelente texto. Obrigado por dividir conosco. Bom final de semana.

    ResponderEliminar

«Em cada um de nós há um segredo, uma paisagem interior com planícies invioláveis, vales de silêncio e paraísos secretos.»
(Antoine de Saint-Exupéry)