A Story A Day. Story 269 of 365: Protector.

I woke up suddenly one night. I was as if I had been electrocuted. My eyes were wide open, my heart was pounding wildly. I could feel there was someone else in the room, but it was too dark to see. I tried to move but I was paralyzed. I panicked. Someone was in my room and I was unable to move. I heard footsteps approaching my bed. And there was nothing I could do. As the person approached, it was easier to make out its silhouette. It was a dark figure with a very pale face. It had large hands with long bony fingers. He touched my cheek and I could feel the cold. Immediately afterwards, I fell asleep.

I woke up the following morning still filled chilled to the bone about what had happened. The first thing I did when I opened my eyes was to check that the mysterious person wasn't still there. There was no trace of it. I talked to some of my friends, and they told me that it had probably been sleep paralysis. I forgot about it for a while, and thought it would never happen again.

However, it did. It was almost the same situation, yet this time the figure was much closer. I felt my skin tingling with fear. It approached its face to me and whispered in a genderless voice "They are coming, I'll protect you". After that the room became so dark I thought I had gone blind. I heard screaming coming from other apartments. Screams that turned my blood cold. There was hitting, crying, and screaming. It sounded as if someone was ripping my neighbor's bodies apart. The screaming lasted for most of the night, until, suddenly it stopped. The figure appeared again, and leaning over me it said "You're safe now". I can't remember anything else after that, but the next thing I know is that the police woke me up in my bed. I was the sole survivor of a massacre, and they had questions.

A Story A Day. Story 268 of 365: Transportation.

There are nightmares and then there's public transportation. Public transportation is supposed to make people's easier, its a commodity. However, there are times when it does not. This is the tale of what happens when it doesn't.

Lane didn't like public transport at all and for that reason he never used it. He would walk or cycle around, avoiding the metro altogether. However, when he broke his leg he had no option but to waver and take the public transport. It was rush hour, so the metro was full to the rims. Lane had checked his crazy itinerary before leaving, but it looked easier on paper. He had to interchange four different times and take a bifurcating line. The first part of his journey was easy, he simply needed to stop after two stations and change lines, in high spirits he got on the other metro and found himself a seat. When it was time to get out it was impossible for him to reach the doors on time before they closed, so he had to wait until the next station and go back. The third metro line was a bit less crowded, and made Lane believe that his luck had changed. He could not be more wrong. The bifurcating line proved to be the worst. After making sure the metro was heading on the direction he had to go, he stepped in. And desperately saw how it skipped the stop he needed to get out in and all the following ones. Lane found himself at the end of the line, wondering what had he done wrong to deserve such a torture.

A Story A Day. Story 267 of 365: Decay.

Every Sunday, Tysha woke up early, sometimes earlier than the sun, and took the coast train. Living in a inner city, she missed the sea, even if it was less than ten miles away. The station used to be full of people her age who had gone out during the night and were returning to their homes. Yet, she was well rested and freshly showered. Tysha would climb on the train and take a seat next to the window. She never carried a book or anything to entertain herself, looking at the scenery was enough for her.

The first part of the ride was underground, under the city's streets and buildings, under its parks. The tunnels emerged in the middle of a suburban landscape, combining factories and housing. The fields started gaining terrain as the train approached the coast. Some towns could be seen in the distance, and, all the sudden, the sea appeared on the right of the train. That was the vision Tysha had expected the most during the week, the one that made the effort worth it. Small quaint stations would pass through the windows. Some of them hadn't been used in ages, their windows and gates closed. Tysha was stopping on the last one. The arrival of her stop always made her have confronted feelings. On one hand, it was a nice destination, on the other she feared what would she find there. She feared her future, yet, she had to face it.

She would get out on the last stop and the bartender of the station's cafe would greet her with a smile. Tysha had been going there for some years, already, and she didnd't know for how much longer would she have to go. She waved at him, and, as usual, he invited her for coffee, Tysha always declined politely. Next came the uphill climb, it was pleasant most of the times, although it was hard if it was raining, but on Sundays there were no buses, and most of the people drove, so Tysha had already became used to the walk.

The asylum welcomed her on the top of the hill, its gates were closed, but the guard opened them as soon as he saw Tysha.

-Good morning Tysha.- he said, fatherly.

-Good morning, Gavin.

To access the building, Tysha had to cross the gardens. They still retained the same colonial air of the house, and they were a beautiful place, although not a happy one. Several patients were sitting on benches, staring at the horizon, some seemed to be mumbling to themselves, and only the most lucid ones were talking to each other. Most of them were elderly, and seemed to be content with their fate. The younger ones were usually more violent, and were never allowed into the gardens without company.

Tysha headed to the building where the doctor was already waiting for her. The girl liked her, Dr. Andrews had always been very straightforward, and had insisted from the first day on Tysha to call her Lisa instead of Dr. Andrews. The older woman hugged her.

-How's my mother?- Tysha asked.

The doctor's face grew somber.

-I'm not going to lie to you, Tysha. She's worsened a lot during this last week, I don't know how much longer she will have.

Thysha's mother, Samantha, had been ill for ages. It all started with some mobility problems, and soon she wasn't able to do the most easy of the tasks. That period meant lots of broken things around the house, and tears. Samantha knew what was coming for her, she had seen her mother go through the same. Her mind was whole but she had lost control over her body. That was when she insisted on going to the asylum, she didn't want to be a burden for her daughter. She didn't want to have her cope with what she had suffered. In the asylum they would take a better care of her, she said. Tysha had accepted reluctantly, how many sixteen-year-olds had to have their mothers admitted into an asylum? After that, Samantha only worsened, losing control over her mind as well as over her body. She became violent, menacing everyone that she would kill herself. She didn't wanted to see her daughter anymore, telling her it was her fault she was locked there. It broke Tysha's heart.

-How are you, Tysha?- the doctor asked, as soon as she finished updating her on the health status of her mother.

-Well, I still haven't felt any of the signs.- Samantha's illness was genetic, and even though Tysha hadn't had a genetic test done, she was still keeping an eye in case it started.

-I mean in general, how are you doing?

-Well enough. I mean, I'm tired, this is not easy, working, studying, coming here,... But I had never expected it to be easy.

-If you need anything don't hesitate to ask.

-Thanks, Lisa.- she had offered Tysha help every time she had been able to.- There are some things I have to do by myself.

-Do you want to see her?

-Of course I do.

For the first time in a long time, Samantha was calm. Her silhouette was dark against the immensity of the sea behind her window. Yes, it was time. It would be the last time Tysha would see her mother alive.  

A Story A Day. Story 266 of 365: Hell.

They found him severely dehydrated and malnourished, hiding behind some boxes inside the truck. No one knew how long had he been inside of it, but the best estimate was at least five days. He was unconscious and they took him immediately to the hospital.

He woke up a couple of days later, his name was André, be explained in a coarse voice. He worked loading boxes on trucks. He had been working on that one, he remembered something hitting his head, and the next thing he remembered was waking up on a moving truck. Knowing that no one would hear him scream, he decided to stay calm and save energy. He didn't know when it was morning and when it was night. He was thirsty and hungry, feeling his body shutting down. He had been both too hot and too cold. And the noise, that was possibly the worst of all. It wasn't loud, it was only constant and unchanging. The wheels of the truck on the road, the creaking of the boxes moving one on top of the other. It was unnerving. André thought he would go crazy. he thought he wouldn't live to see the light of another day.

A Story A Day. Story 265 of 365: Deception.

After that first meeting, there were many more. Diane felt for Maurice, because he wasn't able to explore the outside world, but he was also a very interesting person. He was well read, and he was a genius with computers. He also had a twisted sense of humor. And he was a good friend.

Diane made her best to go visit him at least once a week. If she wasn't able to go one week, she would make up for the lost time during the following. When she spoke to him, she wished he could join her in her quest to explore the world. Sometimes, Maurice seemed to resent her showing him how real life was. He became specially jealous when she spoke about her friends, even though she had told him that she would introduce them to him any time he wanted. However, Maurice always declined, to him Diane was his and his alone.

Diane took his negative as shyness, and didn't insist on it anymore, maybe he would be ready some day. For that reason she also didn't have any problem at telling him about a boy she liked. Diane told Maurice about him, as she had told about him to all her friends. She expected him to be happy for her, but she only found negativity. Maurice asked her whether she was sure he was a good boy. Diane found his negativity unnerving, but she guessed he only worried about her and that it was natural. However, when, the next time she went to his home, he started telling her about the boy's life, all her alarms went off. That was not normal. She confronted him, and asked Maurice whether he had been spying on that boy, or on her. At that point Maurice went pale, and next burning red.

Diane couldn't believe it. He had been spying on her, that was the reason they shared so much. She stormed out of his house after telling him to never talk to her again. And Maurice was alone once more.

A Story A Day. Story 264 of 365: Window.

"There is a new reply on your post..." that was the title of the email Diane received that afternoon. She didn't open it at first, because she usually receiver half a dozen of those every day. A couple of hours later, as she was checking all of her emails, she opened it. It was a reply to her request of fans of her favorite band in her city and, apparently, there was at least one. Music was her favorite topic of conversation, but her friends didn't like the same music she did, so she could only talk about it online. She promptly replied to "throughmywindow" and they started talking through the forum private messenger.

She was surprised at how well had they connected, it was as if he could read her mind. They had lots of things in common, apparently. For Diane, he was a mix between an older brother and a best friend. She was eager to meet him, but also a but also a bit afraid, what if he wasn't what she thought he was? However, the more they talked, the more she was convinced about their need to meet. She braved up and asked him whether he wanted to speak face to face. "throughmywindow" took unusually long to reply, she started thinking that maybe he had grown tired of her. When he finally replied telling her that, of course, he wanted to meet her, but that he was not able to leave the house, she sighed in relief. He then explained her that he was on a wheelchair and that his health was not too good, Diane told him not to worry, that she would go to his house.

And so she did, she knocked nervously on the door failing to recognize it as the same house where she had seen the boy through the window. A middle-aged woman opened, asking whether she was Maurice's friend. When Diane answered, she hugged her and told her she was glad Maurice had a friend, he had had so little luck in his life. She lead Diane upstairs and knocked on a door, some noise came from inside and the older woman led the girl in. As soon as she saw him, she recognized him, and he smiled back, a crocked smile lacking half his teeth, but a smile, nonetheless.

A Story A Day. Story 263 of 365: Homebound.

Maurice had been born with a terrible condition that had left him on a wheelchair, additionally he was severely disfigured. His condition had never allowed him to leave his house, he was too frail, too sick. The lack of human contact made him become strange. He would obsessively look through the window, in his mind everyone on the street would have a secret story.

As Maurice grew older he started looking more and more at girls. Girls walking around with other girls, girls running down the street, girls with their boyfriends. He started to obsessively follow them, in a figurate sense. Maurice had his favorites, and he had given them names and charted down their schedules of passing in front of his window. One day, one if the girls saw him staring and waved at him. She was already one of his favorites, but from that day on she became the only one. He started opening the window to be able to eavesdrop what she was talking about. That way he found out where was she studying, and after that, and some hours of cyberstalking her, Maurice knew everything about Diane's life.

Soon he would spend his days between stalking her on his computer and stalking her through the window. But it was not enough, he had to find a way to talk to her, a way to make her realize he existed. He looked into all her personal pages, through all the forums she was involved in. And he saw the light, she was a fan of a relatively obscure music band, and she was asking whether there were any other fans in the city, so they could meet. It was Maurice's opportunity. He posted a reply and waited.

A Story A Day. Story 262 of 365: Fall.

Autumn equinox was always a special moment in the forest. It was still full of life, the leafs on the trees were still green. But there was this feeling of death approaching. However, it was not ominous. Nature knew that death was part of the cycle, that it was needed for there to be life. Plants accepted it, animals accepted it, and Aesc had gone there to accept it.

He had stage four brain cancer and apparently few months to live. The doctors had been clear, he wouldn't make it to see the end of the year. He didn't have any family left, and all his friends were far away. He had left his home country seeking adventure, and he would find death. However, Aesc was strangely okay with it. He had assumed his own mortality, the shortness of life, and he had decided to die in the nature.

He settled his camp on the Autumn equinox, with the intention to see nature die slowly. And it did, the leaves turned yellow, and red, and brown, and fell from the trees. As they were failing so was his health. There was a synchrony between the two things. The less lively the forest was, the more feeble he was. Aesc was at peace, he was one with nature, and that was all that mattered. He knew he would die when all the leaves had fallen, and his body would rot into earth to become part of the new life that would start in spring.

How mountain biking made a feminist.

I have been thinking about writing this post for a long time, however, due to the long string of uninterrupted "A Story A Day" stories, I was doubtful. I hadn't written anything personal that hadn't become "novelated" to say so, how was I supposed to write something that wasn't fiction? Yet, taking profit of quite a long bus ride (from Galway to Derry), and taking into account how women who identify themselves as feminists are threatened on a daily basis, I decided to write this. 

First things first, the title of this post is "How mountain biking made me a feminist", does it mean I was a mysoginist before? If you have answered to this question with a yes, I think you should turn off your computer and go out for a walk, fresh air is good for the brain. Of course, I believed in gender equality, however I wasn't as passionate as before. And, for those who think feminism is all about how female are better than men, it is not, it is about female empowerment, about how women have the same rights as men, about fair wadges, about not mocking women for doing things, about equality.

"Ok, yes, but what does mountain biking have to do in all this?" you might think. This is actually an excellent question. I took up mountain biking a little more than a year ago, because the summer was too warm and I couldn't go out running without dying from the heat. I had mountain biked before, when I was a teen with my family, however, after a fall I stopped and I thought I would never go back on the saddle (I also started using glasses and the small vision impairment made me feel scared on the bike). As I said I took up mountain biking and started enjoying it a lot, until I fell again and broke my left wrist. Yet, this time the hunger for riding stayed, and just before leaving for Mexico I was on the saddle again. When I came back from Mexico, if there was a thing I couldn't wait to do was getting back on my bike, it was a physical need. And during my outings with my father and my brother (and even alone), I realized something, there were barely any other women. 

Maybe you are lucky, and you live in a place where girls and women get on mountain bikes and cycle uphill or though the forest, and you don't understand why this shocked me. But after some days taking note of it, I saw a pattern, the few women I saw on a bike were mothers with their children that had gone for a stroll by the river. As soon as the terrain became more complicated, there were only men, young men, old men. Sometimes I crossed paths with groups of cyclists, from a sports club, and it was all men. Where were the women? One day, I saw it clear, there was a group of people having breakfast at a bar, there were at least twenty bikes leaning on a fence, there were both men and women, but only the men wore cycling outfits, and only them took the bikes and headed back home pedaling. Why no woman did? 

This question still haunts me. Aren't women interested in mountain biking? If so, why not? Do they think it is boring? Do they think they are not strong enough? Do they think it's not feminine or that it's a males sport? Are they afraid of joining a sports club? Of going alone for a ride? 

I think that women are as interested as men in being fit (or even more, thanks to the pressure of society for having a perfect body), however there is something preventing them to take up some sports, what exactly I don't know, what prevented me from taking up MTBiking was the fear of falling, but you need to overcome your fears in order to find what you love. This is my message to all the women who read this blog (if there's any), if you think you might like mountain biking, grab a bike and hit the trails, give it a shot. You are strong enough to do it. Just because most of MTBikers are men it doesn't mean there is no place for you. We are here to break boundaries. We are here to be free to do whatever we love, be it yoga or cycling. 

See you on the bike. 

A Story A Day. Story 261 of 365: Breakdown.

Leto had slept poorly that night, Rada had her awake until past midnight because of the high volume of the TV, and when the home had finally fallen silent, she couldn't stop thinking about the fight she had had with Castor. Her boyfriend insisted on them going to live together, but Leto felt she wasn't ready still, that it was too precipitate. They had been dating for a year, already, but Leto needed her time and personal space. Castor didn't seem to understand and told her she didn't love him as much as he did. That hurt Leto's feelings, and kept her awake during most of the night.

When the alarm rang, she wanted to throw the clock through the window, she hated her job, but she needed the money. Maybe that day would be one of the rare ones when nothing actually happened, and when she would not suffer any stress. Of course, it was not. As soon as she crossed the door there were three of her coworkers waiting for her, requesting her things. Probably, the sentence she heard the most that day was "Leto, could you...". Everyone seemed to need something from her, and everything had to be done at that exact moment. At one point she hid in the bathroom, wanting to punch everybody. When she got out, everyone seemed to be staring at her. She walked back to her place, sure people were whispering about her. She could hear them telling each other how a bad colleague she was, and how they should fire her. At one point the whispers turned shouts, people didn't care she could hear them, they wanted her to hear. Fed up, she ran away, crying.

Her house was empty, when she arrived teary eyed, but that was probably because Rada hated her, as her coworkers did, and as Castor did. She had to hide away somewhere no one could find her, somewhere she could not hear the hate words. She wrote Rada a note telling her she was hiding away and to not look for her, and set for the forest looking for the most hidden cave she could find.

A Story A Day. Story 260 of 365: Hidden.

After days of searching, the police had given up. They had looked everywhere and Leto wouldn't appear. Leto's roommate, Rada, had called them as soon as she saw the note her friend had left. Leto had been under lots of stress, the girl explained, however she had never suspected she would disappear like that. The police asked her all sorts of questions, and as soon as Castor, Leto's boyfriend, arrived, they asked him many more. After a week they were told by the police that there was nothing else to do.

Deep inside a forest, hiding inside a cave was Leto. She would speak to herself softly, as if she were with someone else, nursing herself to sleep. The stress had been too much for her and she snapped, not able to tell what was real anymore. That was how Salma found her.

Salma had gone hiking in the forest and a thunderstorm surprised her, so she ran for shelter into a nearby cave, hoping for it to be devoid of wildlife. That was hoe she met Leto. The lost girl didn't pay any attention to her new company. Instead, she kept muttering to herself. Salma approached her carefully, and slipped into conversation.

-Why are you hidden here?

-Everyone hates me, they think I'm lousy, they wish I were dead. I can hear them saying so. Every time I turn around I hear them planning to hurt me, and when I look back at them they act as if nothing had happened. But I know! They hate me!

Leto grew wild and started hitting herself, Salma tried to stop her, but it was clear she couldn't. She desisted of taking her out of the cave. Salma distanced herself from Leto and saw her slowly fall asleep. She looked younger then. She needed help, that was clear. Salma went out of the cave and dialed the emergency services. She stayed until they took Leto away. It was heartbreaking to see her desperately shout how they all wanted to kill her. What could make a person have such terrible hallucinations? How could anybody live with them?

A Story A Day. Story 259 of 365: Blind.

Shopping for clothes was a difficult task for Lucia, as she had been born blind. She loved the different textures of the fabrics, but she could not see them. When she was a child she would walk into her mother's closet and touch all the clothes she had. She knew how to differentiate silk and fake silk, she would spend hours caressing wool, velvet, satin, leather. Every time they went to a shop they would spend hours in it, as Lucia insisted on her mother to describe each and every piece of clothing. Her mother described her the cut, as she ran her hands through it. Lucia was specially fascinated by colors and patterns, she had never sen them, and it was unlikely she would ever do, but inside her head she imagined everything. She had memorized which colors went well with which others like a mantra.

As the result of her obsession, her style was always impeccable, to the point that people were surprised to learn she was the one who picked her own clothes. To Lucia that was a victory, a way to show the world that disability wouldn't stop her.

A Story A Day. Story 258 of 365: Festival.

We met at a summer festival. I had gone there with some friends, because a band we had always wanted to see was playing. We didn't really care about the rest of the line-up, so we spent most of the time during concerts drinking beer apart from the dancing crowd. Eventually, if we considered the band to be good enough, we would get closer to the stage.

I was queueing to get some cold beer, and she appeared just next to me. I still remember her as if she were here, she had long dark hair that stumbled in waves down her waist, she had adorned her hair with pink, white, and blue flowers. Her eyes were hazelnut, surrounded by very long and very think eyelashes. Her nose was straight, covered with little freckles. Her lips were naturally pink, and her teeth shinned like pearls behind them. She was wearing a flowery summer dress that accentuated both her slim and tall frame and her tanned skin. She told me her name was Aoide, but I never knew if it was her real name. She asked me a lot of questions while queueing, but she hardly ever replied to mine. Eventually, she would smile and ask me something different, the only things I could get out of her was that she had kind of come alone, but I couldn't get any explanation on what it meant, and that she was from Greek origin. I was really interested in Greece, so I asked her more, she told me she was from a very remote area, and that the world was her home at that moment.

She came with me to sit with my friends and discuss music, it was clear that she was well informed. She spent the whole day with us, seemingly tireless. When the sun set she was still full of energy. She insisted on going to the nearby forest, and since all the others were too tired, I went alone with her.

The forest was thick, and almost no one had adventured into it. We walked for some time and heard the flowing water of a river. I had never known there was one there, in fact everyone I spoke to afterwards swore that there wasn't one. We followed the sound and arrived to a meadow where the moon shone. Aoide's skin seemed to reflect all of the moonlight and looked silvery. Without a word she undressed and dove into the river. The water in contact with her skin sparkled, and for some reason her hair remained dry and the flowers didn't fall off. Now that I think about it, they did look fresh throughout the day. Looking at her I knew I had to get next to her. I didn't care if it was deep or not, or how strong the current was, the only thing that mattered was her. The whole situation was unworldly, the silence of the night, the light of the moon, and her. Aoide approached and kissed me. I don't remember anything from that point on. I woke up on the shore alone, but dressed, and I worked my way back to the tent where my friends were sleeping. Aoide had disappeared. I asked around, but no one seemed to have seen her. And, when I told my friends what had happened, they told me I had been drugged. Yet, I knew it had been real, and I knew it had sparked the need to write songs that I had. Aoide is the reason why I sing and I tour the world, hoping I will find her again.

A Story A Day. Story 257 of 365: Beach.

During days like that she liked to go to the beach. There was no one because it was windy and the waves were wild. Yet, she would spend hours sitting staring at them. It was hypnotic. She enjoyed, specially, summer days when the beach was empty for some hours, people hiding away from the rain and the wind. It was like being in a desert, the immensity of the sea and the beach all to herself. Most of the days she went there, there weren't even birds, as if they were too scared of the strong wind gusts. But she prevailed. As soon as the sun came out, however, she would leave, the magic lost. After all, she was looking for a connection with the earth, a connection she could not make with other people around.

A Story A Day. Story 256 of 365: Buried.

The love of her life was gone and she wasn't even able to say goodbye. Mara's heart was broken, shattered in one thousand pieces. It broke when she heard the news, Stan had died in the mountains. She had begged him not to go, she was scared, so scared of what could happen to him, but he never listened. In the end his body lay broken at the bottom of an ice crack, and she stayed away from him, wanting to hold him for the last time. However, that was not the worst, the worst was not being able to mourn him, having to pretend she hadn't lost part of her heart, having to pretend there was nothing between them.

Mara knew, when she started the relationship, that an affair with a married man was never an easy thing, but that was harder than hiding, harder than lying. She had to deny her real feelings, she had to hide to cry. And she had to see how his widow was the one who received all the condolences. The same woman who pushed him towards the mountains with her craziness, the woman he didn't love anymore. Mara had to see her go around town, pretending she missed Stan, when she was the one who couldn't live without him.

Mara wished she was buried with him in the crack, because her heart already was.

A Story A Day. Story 255 of 365: Intricate.

There was something in Zahra that made men notice her. She was not particularly beautiful, but she had a confident smile and the walk of an independent woman. That made some men approach, they liked how she looked, and they thought she would look even nicer in their bed, naked over the sheets. Five minutes of conversation were usually enough to make them run away. As soon as Zahra commented how she was the CEO of her own company at barely twenty-six, and how she was a graduate in one of the most prestigious schools in the country, the prospective suitor of the day would grow pale and leave.

Zahra was able to handle those men, she knew what they were after, and she knew what she wanted. Sometimes, rarely, one would be able to cope with the fact that she was an independent and smart woman. The few times it happened, she had actually gone on a date with the guy. Dates always meant small talk, and getting to know each other. It also meant that Zahra disclosed her passion for yoga, and how she was a published poet. Her friends considered that a second test, if a man could also handle that, he was worth a try. Few were, most were baffled at how much was she able to do.

Still, some did, the few relationships Zahra had had were that kind of men. Men who were not afraid of a strong woman, men who were looking for a partner in life. However, there was something else they needed to cope with. Despite the appearances, Zahra was a really introvert person, who had trouble expressing her feelings. Therefore, even though she was in love with her boyfriend of the moment, the guy would feel abandoned, and would think of her as cold. At this point all of them would give up, thinking she was not as interested in them as they were.

And Zahra always ended up alone, wondering whether it was actually worth to try dating anymore. Wondering whether any man would actually understand her.

A Story A Day. Story 254 of 365: Cage.

I am trapped inside this wooden cage, unable to escape. Énna is outside, telling me to calm down, that I will not be able to get out, but he is not the one who is trapped. I got in through a hole and now I don't seem to be able to get out. There is no other way out, the only way out is up, and I don't fit anymore. I'm panicking. I want to feel the free air on my face again. I don't think about anything, only about getting out. Énna is still outside, he has brought me some food.

-Aderyn, Aderyn, eat some, calm down.

-How do you want me to calm down?- I yell at him.

I can hear the giants outside the cage, but I don't understand what they say. I see one of them looking at me, it is huge. Why won't it open the cage?

I got inside the cage at midday and the sun has already set. I am tired, and all my body hurts. Énna is still outside keeping me company. He has brought more food, but I can't eat anything. He insists, I need strength to get out, he says. I fall asleep without noticing, and the rays of sunshine passing through the slits wake me up. I try to get out again, but only because Énna insists. Deep down I know I will die inside the cage, I know I won't be able to spread my wings next to him ever again.

A Story A Day. Story 253 of 365: Incertitude.

All the doubts, Ariana had, vanished. She was glad she had agreed to met Andy, she had fun. And she liked him, she really did. Her stomach was still tied to knots, that feeling of having butterflies in it, as some people would say. She knew she liked him because she was unable to eat anything, to focus. Ariana had not felt like that in a long time. She needed to keep talking to that guy, he was definitely worth it. She went to sleep, happy and satisfied.

The following day, however, she started thinking about all the things she had done. She had screwed up, she hardly ever asked him anything, she talked too much about herself. She couldn't almost believe all the wrong things she had done, she hated being so socially awkward. After that, on every text he sent, she saw him going further away, wanting to keep distance, because she was crazy. Or at least, that was what she thought. She wished she had said other things, she had asked more. She wished she had kissed him. She had been on the verge of doing so, but she felt it was too early, and she was too uncomfortable with the idea of doing so. Ariana was completely sure she had lost him, blaming herself for being completely unable to keep a man, not even for a second date.

A Story A Day. Story 252 of 365: Reservation.

There she was, Andy had spent the whole day wondering whether she would show up or not. But she had. He was nervous, more nervous than he had ever been. He really liked Ariana, and wondered whether she liked him back as much.

They went to have a drink and talked about thousands of things. She seemed a bit uncomfortable, or maybe restless, but Andy wondered how did he look like too. Sometimes, Ariana seemed to stop listening to him, her stare lost. Was he boring her? He was screwing everything up, he knew. Yet, she laughed and smiled, and she was also charming as hell. And talkative, very talkative. Little did he know that she had the tendency of overtalking when she was nervous. The afternoon passed fast and he had to leave. The farewell was awkward. He knew it was too early to kiss her, but a part of him wanted to. Ariana was clearly uncomfortable.

Andy left the place thinking that maybe she didn't like him, after all. However, minutes later she sent him a message thanking him for the evening. He was confused, what did all of it mean?

A Story A Day. Story 251 of 365: Uncertainty.

The alarm clock numbers changed again "4:31". The first time Ariana had looked at it that night, it had marked "3:56". She had tried to fall asleep again, but she only tossed and turned until the sheets came out and she had to get out of bed to redo it.

Ariana was nervous, and she knew it. It had taken her hours to fall asleep, and she had slept terribly. And for a very silly reason, but also a very important one, she was seeing Andy that day. She had liked him for a very long time, but she never dared to ask him to go out. It was true, they talked a lot, but it was only talking. Andy had been the one who asked her out, telling her he thought they needed some time alone. Ariana accepted immediately, but as the date approached, doubts sprang. Would she be able to handle it? She was sure she would screw up so badly, he would never want to see her again. She should have said no. All those thoughts had sprinted through her mind for days, and they were bouncing around during that early morning.

Giving up, she finally left the bed and headed to the kitchen. She was so nervous that she knew she wouldn't be able to have breakfast, but she needed to do something, anyway.

Ariana's day passed slowly, as she kept glancing towards the clock all the time. She almost picked up the phone twice to cancel the date. Yet, she really wanted to see him. Finally, the time came. Ariana was shaking, wondering whether he would show up or not. Her fears were swept out when she was him standing where they had agreed, smiling at her.

A Story A Day. Story 250 of 365: Waves.

Llyr was a sailor and always had been, as his father had, and the father of his father, and as far back in time as anyone could remember. His father had put him on a boat when he was barely seven, ignoring his son's petitions of staying on dry land. Llyr remembered crying of fear, and being beaten about it. Counting down the hours to go back to port, and the wish of wanting to kiss the floor under his feet.

Despite not being made to be a sailor, his father persisted, forcing him on the ships, telling him it was family business. And, everyday, Llyr hated his life. The vision of the sea outside the windows of his parents' house made him nauseous. Yet, being a sailor was the only thing he knew how to do, even if he was the only sailor who was afraid of the water. In fact, he kept going into the sea well into old age, wishing he had been strong enough to challenge this father, wishing he had been brave enough to choose his own destiny.

A Story A Day. Story 249 of 365: Creep.

He was not a remarkable man, his features were plain, even his name was forgettable. The only thing people realized about him was his silentness, and how he never smiled. He was quiet as a shadow, and as storyless as one. No one knew who he was or what he worked on. No one knew whether he had friends or family, if he had ever been loved. No one knew where would he go next, as he went from place to place without a word. If he stayed in one place for long enough, people would start forgetting he was even there. His expressionless plain face would become part of the background, blending in as if it had always been there. Occasionally, some people would catch a glimpse of his smile, but not long enough to be sure whether their eyes were tricking them. However, these people would see him, more and more often, lurking at them. It was a smile that sent chills down their spine. A smile of death, as he was the Reaper after all.

A Story A Day. Story 248 of 365: Letters.

Taylor and Ashley had been pen pals since elementary school, when they were given as an assignment to have a pen pal. Most of their classmates had only kept contact with the other person for a year. But they had persisted into almost adulthood. Taylor was American, and Ashley was English, and at first they would mainly discuss about the things that were different in their respective countries. As they grew old, they became best friends, talking about everything they didn't dare to tell anyone. They gave each other relationship advice, and, with time, Taylor realized that it was not only friendship, it was love.

Taylor finished high-school and decided to take a gap year around Europe and think about the future. It was the perfect opportunity to visit England, but what would Ashley think? They had been pen pals for a long time, but seeing each other face to face was different. Also, there was that feeling Taylor had that it could be something more.

On the plane, the only thing Taylor could think of was whether it was a mistake. However, all doubts flew away when Ashley was at the airport, waiting. As they hugged, Taylor's words slipped out of his mouth.

-I love you, Ashley.

His friend looked into his eyes and told him:

-I'm sorry, man, but for me you're only a friend.

A Story A Day. Story 247 of 365: Abductions.

Stonecastle was a small calm town by the Cyan River. Centuries ago it had been a vibrant city, as the castle that gave it its name attested. However, with years it had lost its splendor, the castle had become ruins, and the people in town lived a quiet life.

It all changed, unexpectedly, one day. The young daughter of one of the town families disappeared without trace, no one knew where she had gone or where to find her, the police looked into it, but were completely clueless. One week after the first disappearance, another girl was abducted, also the youngest daughter. Panic spread, parents forbade their children to go outside unaccompanied, people would stay in their houses after sunset. Yet, it didn't stop the disappearances.

Girls would be taken from their own homes whenever they were left alone. Nothing would stop it, not closed doors, not alarms. And, soon, disappearances started in front of other people. Witnesses said that something invisible would come and take the girls as they screamed away.

The Berger sisters were terrified, the youngest one was the only younger daughter left in town, and it was only matter of time she was taken too. The wait was what made it worse. When the day finally came, they were still not ready. They were all together having lunch, when Beth, the youngest, started screaming. Something was dragging her. Her sisters tried to hold her, but the invisible monster was strong, and that was when Lara took a desperate decision.

-Take me instead of her!

The thing's pressure on Beth alleviated immediately, and Lara was taken away. After Lara's disappearance, the abductions stopped, and no one was ever able to find the bones that were piling up in one of the castle's dungeons.

A Story A Day. Story 246 of 365: Appearances.

There is the notion that beauty is a blessing, specially for girls. Society tells girls they need to be beautiful, or that they are beautiful regardless of the standards. The ultimate goal of a girl should be to be beautiful. But as Isobel knew well, beauty was a curse. She was already used at people staring at her on the street, and at guys catcalling her, she was so beautiful she could have been a model. Her aspirations were different, however. She was an astrophysics passionate since she was a child. Isobel had always been the first of her class, also in university, and as soon as she finished her degree she decided to start a career in research. That was when her beauty proved to be a curse.

She had sent her curriculum applying for a PhD position at several research laboratories, and she was immediately contacted for an interview with the best. Astrophysics was still mainly a masculine field, specially in high positions, so all the interviewers were old males. Most of the interviews were a frustrating experience, as no one believed that a girl like Isobel could have such a curriculum. They never said it, but she was too beautiful to be so smart. Luckily, one of the professors she interviewed with was able to see past her beauty, and she obtained a research position. Isobel was hard working and happy with her job, it was everything she had ever asked for.

It didn't last long. Some people jealous of her success, suggested she had only obtained the place because of her good looks. It didn't matter she proved herself capable, people still insisted she didn't deserve it. When she presented her work at meetings, it was received by condescending questions. No one believed it was actually her work. And worse, she started doubting about herself, wondering if people were right and she was unworthy of the place. She ended up convinced she needed to change her appearance to seem less attractive.

First, she chipped off her flowing golden locks, but it didn't work, as, apparently, she looked better with short hair. Next, she dyed it in a dark color, thinking that maybe that would make people take her more seriously. However, the dark color made her blue eyes stand more. She stopped wearing make up, and put on dark contact lenses, to no avail. She was desperate, what would make people take her seriously? She was completely obsessed about the need to become ugly, so she took the ultimate step.

When Isobel went back to the lab after her holidays no one recognized her, the plastic surgery had certainly paid off.

A Story A Day. Story 245 of 365: Anxiety.

Erin had always been a very responsible person. Since she was a kid people would trust her to keep things in check. She was mature before her time. She lived up to the role, telling herself that if people trusted her with responsibilities it was because they knew she could handle them. However, no one knew that, inside that righteous personality, there was an insecure and anxious person.

She would usually suck it up, and pretend nothing happened, but there were times she couldn't handle the situation. The worst times it ended up in an anxiety attack. Erin remembered breaking into tears at work when the stress overcame her, failing to breath properly, making it worse. Sometimes she would spend weeks on the verge of an anxiety attack, always thinking she would end up mad. And as the stress increased, so did the anxiety, making her feel anxious in more and more situations. Making her want to hide in a place where none of the noise could get in.

A Story A Day. Story 244 of 365: Disappear.

The day I met Dawn I didn't suspect she would change my life in such a way. We met at French class, she was a bubbly newcomer who wanted to learn the language as fast as she could to go on adventures in the countryside. I had been trying to learn the language for ages, being an English teacher I thought I didn't need it much, but I wanted to learn, nonetheless. I have to confess that the easiness with which she picket up the language hurt my pride. But I don't want to talk about my inability to learn, because that is not what is important.

As I was saying, Dawn was extremely outgoing, she was barely twenty-three, but she had already seen half of the world. We got along well, but we never saw each other after class. However, one day, we were the only students, and the teacher decided to make us practice our speaking skills. We talked, in a very basic French, about our lives and our dreams But as we didn't have the level for the conversation, we couldn't dig into what the the other person was saying. For that reason, Dawn proposed to go have a coffee after class, she liked me, she said. During coffee she asked me questions non-stop. I had mentioned I had always wanted to write books for children, and she was very excited about the idea, she insisted I should be doing it, and that I needed to believe in myself. After that day, almost every week, we would go out for coffee, only the two of us. Her insistence paid off and I started writing, I would bring the tales and show them to her. I owe her my writing career, in fact.

One day, she stopped coming to class. No one knew where had she gone, and on one could contact her in any way. She had disappeared, vanished into thin air. And I have never been able to thank her for helping me overcome the fear to chase my dreams.

A Story A Day. Story 243 of 365: Pearl (XII).

As soon as James and Helen arrived back home, he locked himself up into his office. They hadn't spoken a word since they had left the Gundvaldson's house. In there they had been cheerful and talkative, and after Margaret explained her story, they had explained theirs. It was not as exciting and exotic, but it was a love story nonetheless. Helen insisted on their hosts to join them for dinner the following weekend. It was the right thing to do after their hospitality. Yet, as she arrived home, she wasn't sure it had been a good idea.

Whilst Helen was lost in her thoughts in their bedroom, James had rescued the note Margaret had left him five years before. Life had treated her well, she had found love, she had had adventures. She deserved it, that was for sure, so why was he feeling so annoyed? Maybe it was because it looked as if she had forgotten him, she had moved on. He also had, although a part of him would always love her, a part larger than he dared to admit. He sat down on his desk and started scribbling thoughts, it had always helped him put them in order. That day it was futile, the unexpected return of Margaret had turned his world upside down. He found himself staring at the paper, hours after they had arrived home. It was late at night and Helen would be already asleep. He got inside the bed, slowly, failing to see that his wife had cried herself to sleep.

The following morning James woke up early and immersed himself in work, hoping he would forget his worries. When, after almost three hours, he saw it wouldn't work, he decided to pay a visit to Margaret. He never liked to go to places unannounced, but it was a matter of life or death, at least to him. Margaret received him inside her library, a magnificent room with titles in at least three languages. Maybe it was a nod to past times, or maybe she had been there when he had arrived. She looked like a proper lady, but she was distant.

-Margaret.- there was lust and love in his voice.

-James.- hers was a glacier.

-Margaret, I still love you. I couldn't stop thinking about how stupid I was for letting you go. We could still make it work.

-You are making a fool of yourself, James. I don't love you anymore. I married Hans because I had forgotten you, not because I wanted to forget you. When I left and you never came, I knew your love for me wasn't as strong as my love for you. If you had loved me enough you would have probably found a way. It is over.

-Margaret, you can't appear like this after so long and tell me it is over.

-But it is. And you have a wonderful wife who deserves love, and deserves someone who is true to her. Think if you can do it, because if you can't you're only going to hurt her more than you have already done.

A Story A Day. Story 242 of 365: Pearl (XI).

Helen was feeling the tension, and she was not liking it. She needed to do something to vanish the effect her husband's words had produced. She looked at Hans, but he seemed relaxed and confident, assured his wife only loved him. He wouldn't cooperate. Her only escape was to ask something to Margaret, she had seen how the other woman had cringed at James' unsaid words, she could be an ally.

-So, Margaret, what did you do afterwards? How did you meet Hans?- she didn't need to feign curiosity, she was sure it was an extraordinary story.

-When I realized James wouldn't come- she smiled at him - I decided I wanted to live my own adventure. I was free, I was young, and I had the whole world to explore. I decided to move to Paris, it was full of life and art, and anyone could become whatever they wanted. I started working as a secretary for a lunatic writer, Pierre. He would sleep all day and write all night while drinking bottle after bottle of wine. He had terrible handwriting so it was my work to translate it to something legible. His low production days left me with lots of free time, and I would go around the city, drawing. Paris is an infinite source of inspiration. One day, Pierre woke up just before noon and caught me working on one of my drawings. He was impressed and he insisted on having a friend of his look at them, he said I had more talent than most of the so-called painters in the city. I was reluctant, at first, what could a drunken writer know about paintings? But he was very insistent, and I finally conceded, that was how I met Hans.

-I didn't know you were an art merchant, Hans.- James commented, completely engrossed with the story.

-Oh, I am not, my friend Gunther is.- the Swedish explained.- I just happened to be there in the art gallery that day. It was a streak of luck, because, possibly, if I hadn't gone, I would have never met this lovely lady.

-Yes, you were lucky. As I was saying, Pierre convinced me to go to Gunther's art gallery. He took me there, proud as a peacock, eager to show the world the talent he had discovered. I trailed behind, carrying a folder with my drawings, still considering whether it was a good idea. I was terrified of the real critics. Pierre was biased, he wanted me to sleep with him and his boyfriend of the time, so he would say anything to flatter me. When we arrived, Gunther and Hans were talking while sharing a bottle of wine. Pierre immediately helped himself to a glass, and served one for me. I was too distracted, however, I had fallen in love.

-It was love at first sight! How romantic,...- Helen interrupted.

Margaret and Hans looked at each other and laughed.

-Not quite.- Margaret said.- I fell in love with Gunther. He looked so sophisticated, and he was probably the most handsome man I have ever met. He looked at my drawings and told me he was willing to sell some of them. I couldn't believe my ears. The following months passed between afternoons at the art gallery, and parties deep into the night. And every time I was more and more in love with Gunther. I had always been brave and straightforwards, but there was something that prevented me from being so with him. However, Hans was always there for me, he didn't know I loved Gunther, if he had he would have told me he was married. When I found out, I was disappointed, but glad I hadn't done anything terrible. From that point on, I spent much more time with Hans, he was considerate, he showed me parts of the city I had never been to, and we would speak for hours. We fell in love slowly, reaching milestones without hurrying. One day he told me ha had to go back to Sweden and I knew I had to go with him. We married a week before leaving, at a small Parisian church. Pierre was heartbroken, but he recovered fast enough, for what I heard. We moved to Sweden where I learnt that the sun can be up in the middle of the night, and winter can be interminable. I loved the country, but after some time I started missing the English countryside, and the wild sea at the seashore.

-She talked so much about England, I needed to come and see it with my own eyes. Also, she insisted it was a better place to form a family, she was scared of our future children freezing to death.- Hans joked in a deep voice.

A Story A Day. Story 241 of 365: Pearl (X).

After an hour, James still couldn't believe what his eyes had seen. He followed Margaret around with his stare. He saw her talking and laughing, dancing gracefully. The girl he had lost was a woman. James couldn't see it, but Helen looked at him concerned. She knew he wouldn't leave her, but the sudden appearance of Margaret, and idealized figure after those years of absence, would take its toll in the newlyweds relation.

Before James and Helen left the party, Margaret took them aside.

-Come tomorrow for tea.- she said- I guess you will have questions.

With a knowing smile she kissed them goodnight and let the butler lead them outside.

That night neither Helen nor James slept. They didn't talk, each of them lost in their own thoughts. At the other house Margaret and Hand were having a glass of champagne in their, then empty, living room.

-I thought he was taller.- Hans commented.

-Dear, everyone seems short to you.- Margaret teased him.

-What are you going to tell him tomorrow?

-The truth, he deserves to know. He was an important part of my life. Also, I deserve to know why didn't he come.

-You still love him.- his accent made it to know whether it was an statement or a question.

-No, I don't. Or at least not in a romantic way. The girl in me loves the memory of him. But I have lived too much to still love him. And I love you now.

She sat on his lap playfully, and they started kissing. Margaret whispered something into his ear, and he took her in his arms and upstairs to their bedroom, as she laughed. They didn't sleep much, either, that night.

James and Helen arrived on time for tea, the following day. Margaret had had a table set under the porch in front of the garden. There was cake and tea, for Hans there was coffee, as he thought tea was barbaric. Margaret was wearing a long white dress, very appropriate for the heat of the summer. Helen complimented her for it.

-Thank you, after having suffered the Swedish winter, it is nice to have some heat. Please, sit down.

They all sat down while the maid served the cake and the tea. Margaret was very friendly to her.

-So?- she asked James as soon as the girl left. It was the library all over for him.

-Why did you leave?

-It was the only way. I gave it a lot of thought, believe me. But there was no way we could have worked out if we stayed. The high society would have never accepted our marriage. They would have ostracized us, and you would have ended regretting marrying me. No, the only way was to go away and start from scratch where no one knew us. Maybe I was naive, and I thought you would be willing to sacrifice the life you knew for the love you had. Or maybe you were just too coward. The end was the same, you never came and I ended up tired of waiting.

Margaret stopped, leaving James the opportunity to intervene.

-I know that, whatever I say now, it won't change the fact that I let you down. But you need to know what happened before judging, I owe you an explanation. I have to admit that I spent more time that I should have thinking about what to do. After all, you had disappeared leaving only that note behind. Heart and reason battled for a long time, and, finally, I made the decision to join you. I thought my happiness was at stake. However, as I was making to the door, my lady mother arrived, and with her the weight of my responsibilities. I couldn't leave because there was people who would be affected by my departure, I couldn't disappear and leave them stranded. If I didn't come it wasn't because I didn't love you. I loved you.

Although he never said the words, both Helen and Margaret could hear how he wanted to add "And I still do". The feeling hung in the silence that had fallen after James' last words.

A Story A Day. Story 240 of 365: Pearl (IX).

Fate made them meet again. Five years later, James was a newly married man. He had stubbornly waited for her to come back before giving up to his mother's wishes. His wife, Helen, was a tall brunette, intelligent and cultured, and that was what made him fall in love with her. Yet, he hadn't forgotten Margaret, he never would. He had told Helen about Margaret, and she had understood. The young wife appreciated that her husband didn't keep any secrets from her, after all, his past was what made him the man she loved.

The young couple had been invited to a welcome party a foreign businessman was throwing. He had recently moved to the region with his wife and was eager to make some social acquaintances. When James and Helen arrived to the party it was in full swing. People were scattered around the garden, and the sound of the orchestra was spreading into the surroundings. The house was magnificent, easily twice the size of their own. As they entered through the gates, admiring the stained windows, a maid took their coats and the butler guided them to the head of the household. He was an impressive tall blond man, his face covered with a thick beard, but he looked affable as he talked to Lady Waterford. The butler silently called for his attention, and he politely apologized to the old woman.

-Mister Gundvaldson, I am pleased to introduce you Miss and Mister Abbot.- the butler said before retiring.

-Call me Hans.- the foreigner said with an accent.

-I am James and this is my wife Helen.- James replied.

-Tell us, Hans, where exactly are you from?- Helen asked.

-Sweden, a city called Uppsala.

-That is far, how come you moved here?- she continued.

-Well, my wife is English, and she was missing her home soil, so we decided to change countries.

-This is real love. Moving to a foreign place to please your spouse, it is romantic.

-So, your wife is English, you said? When will we meet her?- James inquired.

-She was complimenting some guests, she should be back at any minute.

They kept talking, explaining Hans the essentials of the place. An old friend of James took him aside, and introduced him to a business partner while Helen stayed with Hans. She was a newcomer too, as she had been raised in the city. When James came back to her wife and their host, he saw that another woman had joined them, a woman with auburn curls. A woman who looked too familiar for it to be true. He approached, shaking.

-James, dear. Past time.- Helen told him.- Hans wife has already joined us. Margaret, this is my husband, James.

She looked at him with those green eyes, they hadn't changed a bit, but she had. She looked more mature, more confident, almost regal, yet there was still something that hinted her real nature.

-You are back.- he said.

-I am.

A flicker of recognition sparked in their respective spouses' eyes. Those were the ones they had heard of.