4/30/2014

A Story A Day. Story 116 of 365: Womanizer.

Lir was a womanizer. He had deep blue eyes, the color of the North Ocean, dark hair, and the general appearance of a god. He was the kind of men who would jump from one woman to another without any kind of regret. Not to talk about seeing more than one at the same time. He had never felt a connection with any of them, he only used them for his own interest leaving a trail of broken hearts everywhere he went. For work reasons, he moved from one big city to another quite often, allowing him to change his hunting fields.

When he met Alecto, he though she would be like any other girl. She was a curvy brunette, who entered in the bar as if she owned it, but Lir couldn't see behind the delicious young body he was looking forward to devour. He approached her as a predator would approach his meal.

-We haven't met yet, right? My name is Lir.- he said with that kind of self-confidence that usually had women on their knees.

-Good. You are taking up my space.- she said without even looking at him.

-Don't be mean to me, I'm new in town, won't you even talk to me?

Alecto glanced at him, raising one eyebrow.

-So, what makes you so special?

-Sorry?

-Oh, come on, we both know why you came to talk to me. You want to sleep with me. Don't deny it. Just say it.

-I,...- for the first time ever, Lir didn't know what to say.

-Pfff, you're just like all the others. I will never find a man who has what he needs to have.

She turned around and left the bar. Lir stood there looking at her leave, realizing that, even if they hadn't even talked a minute, he would always remember her.

4/29/2014

A Story A Day. Story 115 of 365: Forest.

Wandering through the forest, Nawra felt safe. Long gone were the fear, the bombs, the constant explosions. The war was just a memory. She was a long way from home, immersed in a completely different culture, but she had been welcomed, and she was happy.

When she first arrived she was scared, the language was different and she thought she would never learn it. During the first weeks she cried herself to sleep, missing her country as it had been when she was a child. She would wake up in the middle of the night, terrified, thinking a bomb had just dropped on her head, just to look outside and see the snow piling up. With time she made friends who helped her with the language, who took her to astonishing places, and she came to love the country.

It had been years since she had fled her childhood home, and that foster country had come to be her own. She had a house, a job, and she had Magnus, and their three wonderful kids. Even after all that time, she sometimes still woke up scared, but he was there to embrace her and calm her down. Nawra had made her own country with the best of both worlds, and no one could take that away from her.

4/28/2014

A Story A Day. Story 114 of 365: Acceptance.

Adam's death had been hard. Cara knew that burying a son was always hard, specially if it was one as young as Adam had been. Yet, his short life had been hard too, he was born terribly ill, and he had been ill all his life. Cara had suffered seeing him in pain, not understanding what happened around him, always connected to a thousand machines. He hadn't lived long enough to learn how to crawl, not that he would have been able to, anyway.

When Cara was first told her newborn son wouldn't be able to live to his first birthday, she went through each and every one of the stages of grief. She first thought that it was impossible, that the doctor must have been mistaken, that those results weren't her son's, she asked for a second opinion, and for a third, and she finally gave up, because all along she had known something was amiss with little Adam. Bargaining didn't hit much, she would have given everything she had for her son to be healthy, but there was no one there who would be able to change it. Then came anger, she looked for someone to blame, she blamed her boyfriend, she blamed all his family, but above all she blamed herself, she blamed herself so hard she spiraled into depression. However, seeing her son fight for his life made her realize there was a reason to continue, her son might die young, but that wasn't a reason to give him as much love as he deserved, in fact she would need to give him all the love he deserved in a much shorter period of time.

Taking profit of the maternity leave, Cara moved into the maternity guard. The hospital installed a bed next to her son's incubator, and she would spend the day and night with him. She read to him all the tales she had been read when she was young, when she ran out of those she moved into her first books, and then to the classics. The nurses would stop beside her for a couple of minutes to hear her reading, and some of them would even relieve her so she could take a break. When she wasn't reading she simply held her son against her chest, wishing she could sing to calm him down. Cara loved feeling his warmth against her skin, it was a measure of the love he wouldn't be able to give her.

The day Adam's died, Cara had been reading him "A Farewell To Arms", she loved Hemingway with all her heart, and there had been passion in her voice. When she finished the book she sighted and wiped a tear from her eye. She next took her son and held him close, he had been awake throughout the story, but he was really calm at that moment. Cara leaned on the chair and caressed her son's hair, telling him how much did she love him. He didn't even move, and before she realized he was dead. Cara didn't cry, she was sad, because it was her only son, but she knew she had done the best to make Adam feel loved, and she knew that he had died feeling loved.

4/27/2014

A Story A Day. Story 113 of 365: Depression.

Since the sudden untimely death of her husband, Susan hadn't left home. She wouldn't even go for grocery shopping. It had been months, but she hadn't been able to gather the energy to move forward. Her mother was the one who took care of everything, she would do the shopping, she would take care of Susan's sons, she would cook. The only thing Susan did all day long was cry. She cried when she woke up and the other side of the bed was empty. She cried when she went to the bathroom and his stuff wasn't there. She cried for breakfast when he wasn't there to make her coffee. Most days she didn't have breakfast at all. She basically cried every time there was something reminding her of him. Susan spent her days curled up on the sofa.

Some days, Susan's mother tried to cheer her up, to make her realize there were still reasons for life to continue. Other days, she would try to shook her back into consciousness, telling her off as she would do when Susan was younger. But, whatever she did, Susan would only stare at her blankly and weeped.

Susan had considered suicide several times, it was the only solution she could see to finish with her infinite sadness. However, suicide meant taking action, and she lacked the will to do anything. She kind of expected to die one day in her sleep, that way she wouldn't need to do anything, and her pain would be over. Not once did she considered her sons. She didn't care about them, they were just a constant reminders he was dead.

Her mother tried to take her to the psychiatrist, but it was impossible to get her out of the house, finally she found a doctor who would visit Susan at her house. She was diagnosed with acute depression, and was instructed to take a cocktail of antidepressants and anxiolytics. Although she had detailed instructions Susan ended up taking the dosage she felt like. Some days she popped in pills like candy. On a particularly bad day she took a handful of pills and went to sleep. She never woke up.

4/26/2014

A Story A Day. Story 112 of 365: Bargaining.

-Where am I? What is this?

He looked around, but there was nothing to be seen, only white everywhere. "There has to be a door, somewhere" he though walking towards the wall. Only the wall was not a wall, it was nothing. His surroundings shifted and became the familiar streets of his city. There was no one in sight, and the city looked brand new.

-Welcome, Ron. This is your new home.- a voice said.

He looked around, but there still was no one. He looked up, and he looked down, but nothing.

-Who are you? Where have you taken me?

-It doesn't matter who I am.- the voice seemed to move from one place to another, sounding both close and far away at the same time.- And this is death.

-You gotta be kidding me.

-This is no joke, Ron. You are dead.

-I can't be dead! This is clearly a mistake, I have so much to do! I'll do whatever, I will be a better person, I promise. I'll tell my wife I love her. I will even start exercising! Just take me back!

-Ron, this is not how it works,...

-I'll become a priest, if needed. I will pray every day. Please, please, please, take me back!

-Ron, I am no god. And this is not hell, nor heaven. This is death and there is no escaping death. 

4/25/2014

A Story A Day. Story 111 of 365: Anger.

-Dead? What do you mean she's dead? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN?

The baby started crying in the room, awaken by his father's screams. The midwife ushered him outside the room into the kitchen where there was a pot of water boiling, and lots of blood stained linen clothes. The table was covered with them, and with other several things he didn't even know what they were. In a fit he threw everything on the floor. Facing the midwife he told her, his anger flowing from every pore:

-This is all your fault. You will pay for it.

The midwife stepped back towards the coal stove, scared.

-You killed my wife.

-Mister, I,... the delivery,... it is complicated,...

She couldn't finish the sentence, as he slapped her across the face.

-Stupid woman! You had one job!

He, next, took the pot with boiling water and poured it over the midwife. Her skin hissed in contact with the hot water, sprouting fiery red blisters, it started smelling like charred meat. She had tried to fight it, but ended up losing consciousness. His anger was still blinding him, the only thing he could see was the woman who was responsible for the death of his beloved wife, a servant on top of that, she was trash, she didn't deserve to live. He grabbed a chair and hit her until the chair broke to pieces. The midwife lay on the floor, her limbs broken, her skin burnt, barely clinging to life. He stopped and looked at her, then he carried her as one would carry a potato sack and threw her outside the front door. Some neighbors stopped to watch, so he shouted so everyone could hear.

-This woman killed my wife, and she deserved this.- and after that he slammed the door behind him to mourn his beloved wife.

4/24/2014

A Story A Day. Story 110 of 365: Denial.

They had rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night, waked up by a cryptic call by the police, telling them their daughter had been in an accident and that she was in the hospital. Telling them to hurry up. Rick Richardson and his wife, Erika, jumped into their expensive road car and drove to the hospital. Erika hadn't had time to put her make up on and, for once, looked the age she had. Rick was glad he was not sleeping with her anymore. They arrived to the hospital and demanded to see the doctor immediately.

-Mr. Richards? I'm Dr. Spencer. Your daughter's doctor.

-What happened? How is she? Is she badly injured?

-Mr. Richards, your daughter's condition,...

-What?- Erika squealed.

-She had massive blood loss and her brain was deprived of oxygen for too long. There is no sign of brain activity. I'm sorry.

-What does it mean? Is our daughter dead? Is she dead? She can't be dead!

Everyone was looking at Erika as she was screaming. The doctor took them to his office while Rick tried, unenthusiastically, to calm her down.

-Please, take a seat. We have your daughter connected to several machines that are keeping her body working. Her lungs are breathing and her heart is pumping, however her brain is dead. I want you to understand what it means, she will never wake up. You should say your goodbyes and unplug her. I know it is a difficult time, but maybe you could consider donating some of her organs.

-I want you to listen very carefully, doctor.- Rick said calmly.- As long as Nicky is still breathing and her heart is still pumping, she is alive. We are going to pay whichever amount we need to pay, but she is going to stay connected to those machines until she gets better.

-But,...

-No buts, you can't unplug her until we tell you so, right?

-Yes, you are right.- the doctor admitted grudgingly.

-So, you know what to do.

He stood up and dragged his wife by the arm to the exit of the hospital. Doctor Spencer stayed in his office, thoughtful. That girl's brain was deeply damaged, there was massive internal bleeding and several ischemic areas, and no brain activity at all, it was impossible she would ever wake up again. She was dead, but her family wouldn't let her go.

4/23/2014

A Story A Day. Story 109 of 365: Rose.

"The first day I saw her I felt rejuvenated. She looked so young, so energetic, so happy. My old bones forgot their true age, my heart raced as it hadn't done in years. When she smiled the world became a better place. I am so old I never thought I could fall in love again, but there I was, giddy as a teenager, waiting for her to pass in front of my home, suffering if I hadn't seen her in days, wondering if she had left, if she had found someone else. I would stop her for a chat every time I saw her. She was nice to me, the way young people are nice to old people, never seeing I felt something else for her. I would see her coming and going, thin, athletic, all I used to be when I was her age, beautiful, above all. It hurt my old heart. 

I would invite her over for lunch, but she was always too busy, young people tend to be too busy for old people. I would spend the days alone with my thoughts, thinking about the way to tell her I loved her, hoping she would feel the same for me. I was a fool, there was no way she felt the same I did, she was sixty years younger than me, but I didn't want to give up. 

One day, I braved up and walked to her door. I awkwardly rang the doorbell, praying for her to be at home. She took long, but she finally opened the door. She smiled sleepily, and my heart skipped a beat. 

-Good morning!

-Good morning- she said, trying to avoid a yawn. 

-I was wondering,... would you like to come home this afternoon? At five?

-Sure. I'll be there. 

If I had not been lovestruck I would have seen she was saying it out of compromise, that she pitied me. I spent the rest of the day worrying about everything, planning every little detail, thinking it through over and over. Five minutes after five, the doorbell rand, I have never stood up as fast. I opened the door and there she was, freshly showered, her hair wet as if she were a siren who had just come out from the ocean. I invited her in and made her sit on the sofa, I walked to the kitchen and brought a box of cookies before sitting next to her. I was nervous and I started talking about my youth, going trough the same things over and over again. She listened politely, but I could see she was bored. So I took a desperate action and tried to kiss her. She pulled away from me and lost balance, falling from the sofa and hitting her head with the table. I heard a strange noise, and after it she was no longer breathing."

"It's okay, Rose. Everything is going to be okay." said the police officer trying to calm down the sweet old lady. 

4/22/2014

A Story A Day. Story 108 of 365: Pride.

Nikolay's parents had taught him to be humble, to not brag about anything. They were convinced that pride was a mortal sin, so they never told him they were proud of him. Nikolay worked harder than anyone at school, he entered in the best university, just to hear his parents tell him they were proud of him, but that never happened. He knew he was the best in everything he did, still, downplaying compliments was so deep in his heart that he never took them, or accepted any award. Even after his parents were dead he continued being falsely humble. Because he couldn't accept he was successful, or he was good he spiraled down to depression. He started losing everything he had, not caring anymore, because what was the point of having anything if you couldn't be proud of your achievements? He finally disappeared from public life, and no one knew where he had gone. 

One of his former employees recognized him on the street, one day. Nikolay was gathering stuff from the containers, dirty, barefoot, almost unrecognizable. 

-Nikolay, is that you? 

His stare was lost, but he seemed to recognize him. He only told him one thing before continuing his way.

-Always be proud of what you have done. 

4/21/2014

A Story A Day. Story 107 of 365: Envy.

Having a little sister was great, Jane had always wanted one. So, when her mother told her she would be having a sister, she was delighted. However, when Allison was born, nothing was like Jane had expected. Everyone was paying attention only to her, and Jane was feeling left alone, and jealous. Their mother was worried about them, but she was told it would pass. However, it only got worse. Allison was smarter, more beautiful, and better at everything than Jane. She ended up having a better job, marrying a better man, and being richer than her sister. On top of that, she was always really sweet to her sister, deciding to ignore the envy devouring Jane.

Jane felt terrible for envying her sister, she knew she should love her, but she had everything she wanted. It was hard seeing someone you know and love succeeding in live when you were failing. It was hard asking for help. And then, Jane's husband left her, and she became a wreck. Jane fled to her sister's home, crying, to be received by her happy sister. When Allison saw the state her sister was in, she got her in and gave her a warm cup of coffee. Jane sat on her couch, crying uncontrollably.

-He's a bastard, a bastard.-she muttered.

-What happened?- her sister asked, sitting by her side.

-He was cheating on me. With my best friend!

Allison simply hugged her and set the table for dinner. It was only her and her sister, as Allison's husband was away in a business trip. She served the salad and the roast beed, and poured a glass of wine for her sister.

-Won't you drink with me?- Jane asked.

-I'm sorry sister, I can't. I'm pregnant!

-Congratulations! That's awesome!- she said while feeling a stab through her heart, she had always wanted to be a mother.

They finished their meal, while Allison updated her sister on her life. Jane was feeling more and more jealous the more her sister told her. When it was time to sleep, she just couldn't fall asleep, thinking how her sister had everything she wanted, and she had nothing. The thought filled her mind, and although she loved her sister, and although she was her sister she knew what she had to do. Jane stood up and sneaked inside her sister's bedroom, she took a pillow and covered her sister's face with it. She pressed until her sister was no longer breathing, it was the only way to make sure she wouldn't be better than her anymore.

4/20/2014

A Story A Day. Story 106 of 365: Wrath.

The sun was slowly rising, Miranda stretched her arms breathing. Morning yoga had always worked for her, it was the only thing keeping her sane. Her coworkers, her family, everyone in her life got her in her nerves. Before she started yoga, she had terrible anger fits. Some days she still felt like she needed to explode, but she managed her rage. After what happened she had learnt how to deal with it. She couldn't go killing everyone who made her mad, after all.

4/19/2014

A Story A Day. Story 105 of 365: Sloth.

David would never get out of his house. Ever. He had no physical or psychological problem, in fact, a part from some extra pounds, he was a perfectly healthy and normal 20-year old boy. He had friends come round visit, but he would not go out. His only problem was that he was lazy, he was lazy for everything. He was lazy to wake up, lazy to eat, lazy to finish eating, lazy to lay on the couch, lazy to get out of the couch, lazy to go to sleep. His family had long given up on trying to make him leave the house. He had, somehow, managed to find a job that allowed him to stay in and that didn't require much effort, although no one really knew how he had managed.

One summer his family left him home alone, they had tried to convince him to go on vacations with him, but to no avail. His mother left food prepared for him on the freezer and set an exhaustive method to make sure he did something during the day. She would call him every two hours or so. David's mother was tired of that life, she always wondered what had she done wrong to have such a lazy son, she felt bad for thinking so, but sometimes she wished he died so she didn't have to cope with him.

The smell of smoke woke him up, apparently there was fire in some part of the building. David could hear the fire alarms and the screams of his neighbors. He considered waking up and leaving the building, but it required too much effort. He turned around and continued sleeping. The firemen found his carbonized body on the bed, he was the only fatality on that fire, everyone had time to leave the house before the firemen arrived, and he would have probably been saved if only he hadn't been so lazy.

4/18/2014

A Story A Day. Story 104 of 365: Greed.

Max was a philanthropist. He was rich, too. Richer than anyone could even dare to dream. He had worked hard for his money, no one could deny that. He had sacrificed everything he had for his company, for his dream.  Max was happy, he had money, he was healthy and he had Lex. He was not an ugly man, he was basically, average, sturdy built he always had to fight against his metabolism to keep his weight on check. Lex, however, she was out of his league, and he knew, she had been a waitress until they met, but she could have easily been a model. A part of Max suspected she was with him for the money, but that was just a small part, and she was so charming all the time, he made himself forget it. Moreover, Lex was the perfect host for all the charity acts Max wanted to organize, she took care of everything, and greeted everyone with a smile, she prepared his speeches, and choose his outfits. She was also proactive, getting her hands dirty if it was needed. Max loved her deeply.

It was a spring afternoon, Max was nervous, really nervous. He was presenting a new charity, that evening, and he also wanted to take profit of the opportunity and propose to Lex. He had been thinking about proposing for months, but it had taken him a long time to find the right ring Max was proud of his purchase, not only it was gorgeous, but it was also eco-friendly and sold through fair trade organizations. First, he needed to finish his work. His secretary, Andrew, interrupted him.

-Max, the police came to talk to you.

-Let them in.- he was surprised, but confident it was only a misunderstanding.

Two well-dressed agents entered through the door. Max stood up to greet them, after they introduced themselves Max asked:

-How can I help you?

-We came to investigate the missing funds of several of your charities.

-Sorry, what?

-Someone in your charities spotted some missing funds and informed us. We are here to investigate it.- said one of them.

-Sir, what is your relation to Miss Alexandra Wooler?

-She's my girlfriend, she takes care of all the charitable work. But she would never do it!

-Why else would she flee the country, then?

At that same moment, Lex had already changed her name and was sipping a cocktail on a beach far away. She deserved the money, she thought, she had to endure that man for way too long, and her only love was money, after all.

4/17/2014

A Story A Day. Story 103 of 365: Gluttony.

There was food hidden everywhere. Under the mattress, behind the books, even behind the fridge. It was ridiculous! Liam was living alone, for god's sake! Who had he to hide the food from? His parents were heartbroken, he voluntarily entered the eating disorder clinic, without telling anyone. And there was no way anyone would have known, he wasn't fat, he was even fit, and he seemed to eat well. But inside his brain there was a monster called bulimia who was eating him from inside out.

-Liam, what made you come for help?- his psychiatrist asked him on the first appointment.

-I don't know. I just have this need to have food around, to eat all the time, but I can never let anyone see me eat. It makes me feel dirty, judged. I'm always sneaking around to get a bite or two of something. And then I feel people are looking at me, knowing that I'm eating and that I should be ashamed, and I run to the bathroom and I throw up, or I go to the gym and exercise until I'm on the verge of dying.

-It is normal to like food, it's natural, and you shouldn't be ashamed of eating. You just need to change the way you look at it.

-Doctor, you don't understand this, I love food, I really do. I love food so much no one can understand it, people would call me a glutton, or worse. People are not enjoying food anymore, they say they do, but they don't. If you like to eat they judge you, not because it is a sin anymore, but because you are no longer supposed to enjoy food.

4/16/2014

A Story A Day. Story 102 of 365: Lust.

The sound of the bells woke her up. It was time for midnight prayer, her favorite. However, she felt uneasy, impure, even. She had just been having a dream. An erotic dream. Sor Chastity felt mortified by those, she had felt the calling at a very young age, and at her thirties she was still a virgin and bound to die as one. Yet, she has been having those dreams for a couple of months, at first she tried to fight them with penitence, but when she saw it didn't work, she gave up and started sneaking into the bathroom to placate her desire. She felt terribly guilty, and terribly sinful. She had committed her life to God, yet she was sinning every day. She knew that her sin felt so good because Satan was tempting her, dragging her to hell. But hell was there, hell was her life. One day, she decided to confess everything to the Mother Superior.

-Mother, I have sinned.- Sor Chastity told her superior.

-What have you done, child?

-I have experienced lust, and I have placated my desires while the other sisters were away.

-You have to be strong. You have to punish yourself for every impure thought, for every action.

-I have done, mother, but I keep dreaming and those dreams make me sin.

-Dreams are dreams.

-But they feel so real!

-You need to work harder and punish yourself harder. Go with God.- the mother superior dismissed her.

Sor Chastity did as she was told, she worked fifteen hours a day, she starved and deprived herself from sleep, yet she kept having those dreams. It was always the same, Sor Benedicta would get inside her bed and start caressing her and kissing her, and after that they would do sinful things. Even if she was hardly sleeping she kept having the dream. She was feeling trapped, and one day she saw what her only escape was.

When the nuns went back to their dorm they found Sor Chastity hanging from the ceiling, her face purple and her tongue out. All of them were horrified and ran to tell the Mother Superior. All but Sor Benedicta who stayed in place looking at the corpse.

-Too bad, you were a good plaything.- she whispered.

4/15/2014

A Story A Day. Story 101 of 365: Paths. Part III: Barcelona.

Barcelona, Spring 2014. 

After all those years wandering the world, Marisa was finally home. She had never actually lived in Barcelona before, but it had always felt like her hometown. She liked its streets, the beach, the museums, she liked everything. The thing she liked the most, though, was that she was able to walk everywhere, sure there was a state of the art metro system, but she didn't mind walking one hour if it meant she was able to discover some small part of the old city. That day she was doing exactly that, she had taken her camera and gone for a walk. It had rained in the morning and the city was still wet, it reminded her of one day in Montréal, however, Barcelona was unique, it had something, it had character.

Map on hand, Jack was trying to find his way around. He had barely landed in Barcelona, after he realized that he didn't really want to be a doctor, that he wanted to write, and that he needed a fresh start. Since he already knew Spanish, and he had always wanted to go to Europe he though Barcelona was a good choice. He was a bit startled at first, expecting everything to be in Spanish and finding a completely different language, but it wasn't too different from his own hometown. The way the city was planned, was completely different, though. It had a meaning on itself, but he still hadn't found the way to understand it. Barcelona was a woman, a twisty exquisite one, and he would have to seduce her to understand her.

The lens of the camera changed the way Marisa saw the city. It made her discover little details she had never seen, but it also made her forget about some others. Like the redheaded guy she was going to crash against because she was just trying to take a picture of a plaque on a wall.

Having his head buried deep on the map he didn't see the girl who was about to hit him. He suddenly stumbled against something and tripped.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Marisa smiled helping him back on his feet.

"Yes, I am."

4/14/2014

A Story A Day. Story 100 of 365: Paths. Part II: Mexico City.

Mexico City, Fall 2013. 

Her alarm rang, she was waking up early every day by then. Marisa was surprised she was so incredibly jet lagged still, but she rode along. She got out of bed, turned on the radio and started her day. As usual, she heard one of her neighbors arriving. Apparently, they were on switched schedules, she had never meet him, or her.

Jack arrived home from his shift at the hospital. The only thing he liked about the night shift was he didn't have to endure the crazy traffic of Mexico City. However, it also meant that he didn't have as many chances to practice his Spanish. He had studied it at Montréal, his hometown, while studying Medicine. He opened the door of his apartment, and left all his keys in the bowl next to the door. As usual, one of his neighbors was already awake and listening to the radio.

Marisa grabbed her lunch from the fridge, she hoped to take the minibus, before the traffic started. If she was lucky enough she might even be able to grab a sope or a gordita before her shift started. She took her keys, opened the door and closed it behind her.

From his bed, Jack heard the door closing. "Have a nice day" he muttered.

4/13/2014

A Story A Day. Story 99 of 365: Paths. Part I: Montréal.

Montréal, Summer 2009.

Marisa checked, hopelessly, the weather forecast. It had been raining every day of that week, and it was not drizzle, precisely. There was beauty in the rain, she wouldn't deny it, but she wanted to explore the city and she found herself needing a boat to do so.

Not far from where she was staying, Jack was canceling the plans with his friends. They wanted to do a picnic in Mont Royal and they didn't fancy ending up drenched. It hurt him staying in on a summer day, specially taking into account how few of them they actually had.

"Screw it" thought Marisa, "I'm going out regardless." She had wanted to go to Mont Royal since she had first landed in the city. She wouldn't go that day, but it didn't mean she had to spend one of her few free days indoors, after all she would have to leave after a month or so. She armed herself with her purple umbrella and towards the old part of the city. She had always wanted to see the Basilica under the rain.

Jack sat on his couch and turned on the TV. Soon the rain started falling, he took a look outside his window, the old cobblestones of the streets in Old Montréal getting wet, a girl with a purple umbrella battling against the downpour.

4/12/2014

A Story A Day. Story 98 of 365: Frustration.

Mindy was fuming, she had waited all her life for that opportunity and he knew it. The only thing she had asked for was some support, but he only made condescending remarks about her job. Of course, he, the brilliant bank director, the best in his job, the best in everything, couldn't fully understand what it meant for her to be able to go on a research trip to the African savannah to study its invertebrate life.  

They had been together since high-school, when they still didn't know what would it become of their lives, and they ended up having nothing in common. She was a zoologist, he only cared about money. Mindy decided to go anyway, a little time apart would be good for both of them.

While in Africa she meet some very interesting people, and one of the most amazing men in the world. Klaus was working as a camera man for a Norwegian TV channel, he was blond, tall, funny, and he understood her. More than once it passed her mind to slip inside his tent, who would know amidst the savannah? Yet, it felt wrong.

Parting day arrived, Mindy hugged Klaus and promised to go pay him a visit as soon as she could. She got on the plane, still wondering if she should have stepped outside her boundaries. She arrived to their shared home in the middle of the night, wanting to give him a surprise. But she was the one who ended up surprised. When she turned on the lights of their bedroom she saw there was more than one person under the sheets.

-What the hell?

Both of them jumped off the bed, covering their nakedness.

-Seriously?- she asked.- My brother?

4/11/2014

A Story A Day. Story 97 of 365: Quiet.

Sheila loved the office on Friday afternoons, most of her peers left after lunch so she was, basically, left alone. The whole building to herself! She would turn on the music and dance on her chair while working. She was in the marketing department, and had a pretty creative work, also, her boss never minded when she was working as long as she did her job. That day was one of those days. It was quite late, past seven in the afternoon and she was in full swing. She was sketching some ideas for a new advertisement while Editors was blasting on the speakers. No one would disturb her at that time, she knew it. That's why, when she heard a noise behind her she almost had a heart attack.

-Jon? What are you doing here?

She didn't like Jon much, he had tried some advances on her since the day she started working in the company. But she knew he was a nice guy.

-I came to see you, I knew you'd be working.

He stumbled his way towards her, he was clearly drunk.

-A pretty girl like you shouldn't be working late.- he told her grabbing her left wrist.

What happened next was just a matter of instinct. Sheila took his arm with her free hand and forced his position so he couldn't move. Jon whined and tried to break free.

-Don't ever touch me again.- Sheila whispered to his ear, however, she was caught off guard as he freed his right arm from her grip.

A moment after he was dead on the floor, his neck in an awkward angle.

-I told you not to touch me ever again. It's a shame, I liked the job.

4/10/2014

A Story A Day. Story 96 of 365: Ice.

People called her cold, heartless, as if it were a bad thing. Kristen had never been empathic, she had never understood other people. Having friends was hard for her, because she didn't know how to treat people well, she didn't understand the need other people had for human contact. She didn't have the impulse to pick up the phone and ask them how they were doing. If anything ever happened to any of them she had to force herself to ask them, just to seem polite, they were her friends after all, whatever it meant. Social interactions were exhausting to her, she avoided going out of home as much as she could. She even shopped on the internet, even groceries, everything. Her mother had already given up on finding a boyfriend to her. Kristen looked at relationship as transactions, she didn't need the moral support, but she sometimes needed the sex, and she didn't see a reason why she should endure the pain to maintain a relationship just to get laid. So every now and then she would go out to a quiet bar and find a guy to take home, or a girl if she felt like it. She was happy with her life, but there was still some people who didn't understand her way of living. However, she couldn't care less, she would just stare at them icily and tell them it was not their problem.

4/09/2014

A Story A Day. Story 95 of 365: Redemption.

They had broken up a long time ago. Both had moved on, and were happy, yet both still felt the pull for the other one. They had remained friends, it hadn't been a big breakup, the relationship simply died slowly, fading off without anyone noticing. That was not completely true, however, Ida had noticed something was amiss, but said nothing, too afraid of facing the truth. When they both realized it was over, she felt incredibly guilty, thinking it had been her fault, considering all the time she stayed silent, motionless, watching their relationship fall apart.

They would meet regularly, usually with their new significant others, sometimes alone. They would counsel each other about their relationships. One day, Ida called Henry in the morning. She was sobbing uncontrollably, Henry couldn't even understand what she was saying, so he decided to pick her up for lunch. Ida got out of her office looking terrible and she jumped to his arms. Henry calmed her down, providing with tons of tissues. Over lunch, she explained him how she had witnessed her boyfriend cheating on her, he had never seen her so upset.

-You know what we are going to do? You're going to call to your job and take off the rest of the day. I'll take you to some places.- he said winking an eye.

-But,... your shop,...

-Don't worry, Annie will take care of it.

He took her for a walk in the park and bought her watermelon ice cream, her favorite. After that they went to the movies, to watch a kids film. Ida had always loved to watch kids films for several reasons, one of them was hearing the kids react to the action. They finished the night at her favorite sushi restaurant where they ended up having sake shots, and the Japanese cook frowning at them for not appreciating the fine art of drinking sake. They were fairly drunk when they got kicked out, and Ida seemed to be in good spirits. Henry insisted on taking her home, one thing let to another and they ended up together in bed drinking wine as they made love.

Ida woke up the following morning with a terrible headache. Henry moaned beside her, she turned around and saw that he was completely naked. It hurt to admit it, but she had missed having sex with him. He opened his eyes and looked at her, not knowing where he was. He wanted to say something but she stopped him.

-Whatever you want to say, let me talk first. I've been feeling guilty for years for not having spoken up when our relationship was falling to pieces. I won't feel guilty about anything else, this was right, it was a closure of sorts. And an end, I'll be leaving soon, I've just decided it, don't look for me, if it didn't work then it's not going to work now.

-I knew it, too.

-You knew what?

-That our relationship was breaking, I just didn't want to face it.- he confessed.

4/08/2014

A Story A Day. Story 94 of 365: Serendipity.

Enough was enough, did he really think he could treat her like that? As a servant? Always having to do what he wanted to? Always following him? It was her fault, really, for dating a younger man with mommy issues, she thought. But she was done, she was tired of having to prepare dinner every night, of listening to him complain about his 12-hour job. At least he wasn't expecting her to work! Her hands would be ruined if she had to work, or worse, her posture! She took one of her bags and packed her most precious clothes, then she took another one and threw her shoes in. She was almost leaving when she remembered about all her purses. Well, she could always make him mail them. For the last time, she checked she had her mobile phone and her credit cards with her, and then she closed the door behind her leaving the keys inside.

It was a rainy day, she opened her umbrella and hurried to the bus station. She bought a ticket for the first bus back to her parents. It was a disgrace having to go on a bus, but she wouldn't be able to make it to the train station. The bus was leaving in half an hour so she sat down on a bench, a young man sat next to her, she could feel him staring at her, but, of course he did, she was gorgeous, she though.

-Excuse me, Elsa?- he said finally.

He was an old classmate of hers who was going back home to visit his parents. She hadn't recognized him because he had been chubby back then, and now he was a handsome young man. Tanned, with black hair and a five o'clock shadow, his eyes were a bit small, as if he were squinting them. It would be a good way to rebound, she thought, not paying any attention to what he was saying. They got on the bus together and kept talking about their lives. They soon felt tired and fell asleep. The bus wasn't too full because people had decided to stay outside of the rain, so they could have taken a full row of seats for each of them, however, Elsa wasn't used to sleep alone, so she insisted on staying next to him.

In the middle of the night the guy woke up, the bus had made a sudden movement. He saw it sliding sideways and get out of the road. He made the best to protect Elsa. The emergency unit found him dead on top of her. She was deeply unconscious and her mobile phone kept ringing. On the other side of the line her boyfriend was calling her to know why there wasn't anything to eat.

4/07/2014

A Story A Day. Story 93 of 365: Quixotic.

Hugh woke up one day not knowing where he was. He had gone to sleep at home the day before, his beautiful wife, Lily, sharing bed with him. However, everything was different, the walls were an aseptic white, the window was on the other side and opened to a garden instead of to the street. The bed was smaller and no one was sharing it with him. He saw some pictures on the nightstand, but he couldn't recognize any of the people on them. There was one that he knew, it was him and his wife on their wedding day.  Where was he? It looked like a hospital, how long had he been asleep if it was a hospital? What happened to him? Why where there so many strange things around the room? He was becoming agitated when an old lady entered the room.

-How are you today, dear?- she asked him sweetly.

-Who are you? What am I doing in here? Where are we? What happened to me?

-Hugh, dear.- she reached for his hand.- I'm Lily, do you remember me? I'm your wife.

-No, you're not, my wife is a young woman.

He reached for her hand to take it out from his and saw his own wrinkled and spotted skin.

4/06/2014

A Story A Day. Story 92 of 365: Lights.

She looked through the bus window. It was dark in the night. The city looked diferent, there was no one on the streets and lights of a thousand colors had taken their place. She touched the glass, feeling the cold through the woolen gloves. The bus was almost empty, few souls were brave enough to get outside in the snow, fewer were foolish enough to decide to cross the country on a bus. She had no option, though. She had sat at the back end of the bus, and burrowed herself in the borrowed jacket and her old blanket. She would miss that place, even if her stay had been so short, but it was time to move on, people had started asking questions about her past and it was buried so deep into her heart she was afraid she would bleed to death if she ever told anyone. For the first time ever she was sad she had to leave, and she was upset she couldn't tell the reason of her leaving to the one person who had cared for her. It was her life, though, not that she had really chosen it. The bus pulled out from the station, and she looked at the lights from her safe nest inside the bus. As the bus was leaving the city, she pressed her forehead against the glass and wispered.

-À bientôt, Céline.  

4/05/2014

A Story A Day. Story 91 of 365: Stay.

Just like that she realized she didn't know what love was. She had fallen in love, of course she had, and people had fallen in love with her too, but she had never been in a long lasting relationship, and that made her wonder, what was it that made people stay together? Would she ever feel it?

She looked around. People dated for years, they even got married. They would wake up each day next to that other person and they wouldn't get tired. What made them say "I love you" each day of their lives? What made the love stay?

4/04/2014

A Story A Day. Story 90 of 365: Run.

One step after another. The sub rising from the sea. Her legs powering her through the path. Her heart pumping heavily. Her lungs sucking air. One step after another. She needed to drink some water, but there was no fountain close. A man passed her at the speed of light. She was slow, she knew. But she didn't care. One step after another. One more kilometer, two, three. Her body aching until nothing ached anymore. Four, five, six. She was doing better than she expected. She passed an older woman, it made her feel well. She wasn't so slow, after all. Seven, eight, nine. Fifteen, maybe? Fifteen would be awesome. Her legs felt ready, the weather was perfect. It smelt of salt. She got lost in her thoughts, not even realizing how the kilometers passed by. How many already? Eleven? Twelve? She saw the man that had passed her before run the other way. She nodded to him. Let's do it fifteen, she decided, and breakfast after it. She ran to the sunset thinking of breakfast. 

4/03/2014

A Story A Day. Story 89 of 365: Molecules.

-Did you know? Each and every molecule inside you has been inside another animal, inside another living being, inside other humans. It has been in seas, in rivers, in lakes. It has been in clouds, in the rain. It has been snow, ice, water, vapor. It has been everywhere. And yet, it is still water. It is still pure. It remains what it was. It has been inside people. It has been excreted, as tears, as sweat, as urine. And, yet, it is water.

-Again, what has all this to do with you cheating on me? 

4/02/2014

A Story A Day. Story 88 of 365: Wind.

-Make it stop! Please make it stop!- Madison screamed covering her ears with her hands.

-What happens, honey? What do I have to stop?- his husband was terrified, what was happening to her wife?

-The noise! It's deafening!

-It's just the wind, Maddie.

But she knew it wasn't only the wind. She could her it howling inside her head, as if it had found a way inside her skull. It was not the wind, there was something else, and she couldn't hide anywhere. Covering her ears with her hands was of no use, but it restrained her from pounding her head against the wall. She cried her lungs out in an effort to keep the noise at bay. In the end she blacked out.

When she woke up again, the wind had decreased a bit, it was an annoyance, but it was not painful anymore. Madison was in a hospital bed, drugs dripping in her bloodstream, that would explain the numb sensation. Her husband was sleeping on a sofa next to her, he looked disheveled and tired. She wondered how long had she been unconscious. He moved and opened his eyes.

-So, you're finally awake.

-Yes.

-Feeling better?

-Much better, I'll be ready to go home in no time.

He didn't reply, but gave her a concerned look.

-What happens?- asked Madison.

-You won't be able to go home, I'm afraid.

-Why not?

-You've got brain cancer.

4/01/2014

A Story A Day. Story 87 of 365: Sing.

Eliza had always dreamed about singing. She loved music, she would listen to it all the time. When she was a kid she convinced her parents to sign her up for singing lessons, but the teacher made her give up after a couple of lessons. She couldn't hit a single note, and she sounded like a cat someone had ran over, the teacher told her harshly. Eliza didn't want to admit it, but the truth was that she was terrible. Kids she babysat, would cry when she sang them lullabies. So she gave up, because what other people thought, what other people said, hurt her. And she lost her smile, just because she couldn't do what she wanted.