Imagen de Pexels en Pixabay
This is my entry for The Ink Well Prompt #110: footsteps. This week's challenge is to avoid information dumping.
Marta crawled to the seashore spitting salt water from her lungs. She could barely make it, she was tired and her arms weighed a ton. On the beach, there was a man reading a newspaper sitting comfortably under an umbrella.
Marta waited a moment, but nothing happened. She coughed a couple of times loudly, but still, no one came to her aid.
"Jesus!" shouted Marta angrily.
She got up, and staggering, walked toward the stranger.
"Didn't you hear me calling for help?" asked Martha.
The man at the girl's protests stopped reading his newspaper and glanced at her under his sunglasses.
"I guess it's a bit much, but are you all right?" asked the stranger with a friendly smile.
Marta turned red with anger.
"For what it's worth, I'm not a lifeguard," snapped back the stranger.
Marta couldn't believe how cynical the man was. She turned around and walked as far as she could, sputtering. Suddenly she stopped, she had barely made it out alive; all her life she had been a submissive girl and after the experience, she had lived through, she was definitely not going to leave things like that. It was time to give up decorum and express her feelings.
In her mind, she had already concocted a series of expletives with which she would curse the stranger's entire generation.
As she turned back she noticed something unusual, the sand glistened with the sun's reflections, golden and untouched. Her footsteps had disappeared; she looked back and there were no fresh footprints either. How was it possible that she had left no tracks in the sand?
The stranger folded his newspaper and stood up.
"I see you've already figured it out. It takes most people a while."
Martha didn't understand what the man had said.
"It's unfortunate, but don't worry, I'm here to make the transition a little more enjoyable."
She noticed also that there wasn't a drop of water on her clothes.
She was afraid to ask the question, for God's sake, I had never stolen, killed, or done evil to anyone, everyone always considered her a prude, where were the angels, the cherubs? I was sure that I would not go to hell.
"Are you looking for St. Peter?" asked the stranger amused by Martha's expression.
Was he able to read my mind?, wondered Marta.
"Come on, M! We know you were not a faithful devotee of your religion. You hardly went to church two or three times a year. And you hated the whispering of the chattering old ladies who always called you the eternal spinster."
¿M? It had been many years since anyone had called her that. Suddenly, she began to feel something familiar in the stranger.
Marta remembered her lonely life very well. Her small apartment, her single job at city hall. Maybe it wasn't an exciting life, but she didn't regret it.
"Better alone than in bad company, isn't it?" the stranger added, hiding a smile.
Leaving Martha no time to defend herself, the stranger continued.
"The answer you don't want to hear is Yes. Unfortunately, no one noticed that you fell overboard from the beautiful cruise ship you always wanted to spend your vacation on after 10 years of continuous work."
Marta remembered that it was not what she expected, despite her savings she had barely gotten a regular room and not the luxury suite.
"Situations are not special, it's us who make them special. It's our attitude," the stranger exclaimed.
Martha pondered that last sentence for a moment.
"Come," the stranger surprised her by extending his hand.
Marta hesitated for a second, but the boy's sweet expression convinced her. And he wasn't as old as he looked.
When Marta took his hand, the scene changed, she was no longer on the lonely beach. She was on something like a university campus; buildings everywhere, people wandering around with books, a tangle of concrete paths between the green areas, and young people gathered together taking notes.
The stranger smiled, but it was no longer the man he had seen on the beach.
"George!" shouted Marta.
"Sis!"
They both hugged each other tightly for a long moment.
"I've missed you so much," said Marta sobbing.
"I know," replied George
"I know you have a lot of questions," George paused, "but we have all eternity to answer them.""
Martha didn't know what to say
"Relax, you'll never be alone again little sister," he said sweetly.
"Come on! There are many other people anxious to see you," shouted George cheerfully.
Finally, the two of them entered the tangle of paths.
See you next time...
Esta es mi entrada para The Ink Well Fiction Prompt #110: pasos/huellas. El reto de esta semana consiste en evitar el volcado de información.
Marta se arrastró hasta la orilla del mar escupiendo agua salada de sus pulmones. A duras penas pudo lograrlo, estaba cansada y sus brazos pesaban una tonelada. En la playa había un hombre leyendo un periódico cómodamente sentado bajo una sombrilla.
Marta esperó un momento, pero nada sucedió. Tosió un par de veces con fuerzas, aun así nadie vino en su ayuda.
“¡Con un demonio!”, gritó marta enfurecida
Se levantó, y tambaleándose, caminó hacia el extraño.
“¿Acaso no me escuchó pidiendo ayuda?”, preguntó Marta
El hombre ante las protestas de la chica, dejó de leer su periódico y le echó una mirada bajo sus lentes de sol.
“Supongo que está de más pero ¿Te encuentras bien?", preguntó el extraño con una sonrisa amistosa.
Marta se puso roja de rabia.
“Si de algo sirve, no soy salvavidas”, replicó el extraño
Marta no podía creer lo cínico que era ese hombre. Se dio media vuelta y caminó lo más lejos posible echando chispas. De pronto se detuvo, apenas había logrado salir con vida; toda su vida había sido una sumisa y tras la experiencia vivida, definitivamente no iba a dejar las cosas así. Era hora de dejar el decoro y expresar sus sentimientos.
En su mente ya había confabulado una serie de improperios con los que maldeciría toda la generación del extraño.
Al devolverse notó algo inusual, la arena brillaba con los reflejos del sol, dorada e intacta. Sus huellas habían desaparecido; miró hacia atrás y tampoco había huellas frescas. ¿Cómo era posible que no dejara huellas en la arena?
El extraño dobló su periódico y se puso de pie.
“Veo que ya te has dado cuenta. La mayoría tarda en hacerlo”
Marta no comprendía lo que había dicho el hombre.
“Es lamentable, pero no te preocupes, estoy aquí para hacer la transición un poco más amena”
Notó también que no había ni una gota de agua sobre su ropa.
Temía hacer la pregunta, pero con un demonio, jamás había robado, matado o hecho maldad a ninguna persona, todos siempre la consideraban una mojigata ¿Dónde estaban los ángeles, los querubines? Estaba segura que al infierno no iría*.
“¿Buscas a San Pedro?”, preguntó el extraño divertido con la expresión de Marta
¿Acaso podía leer mi mente?, se preguntó Marta
“¡Vamos, M! Sabemos que no eras una devota fiel a tu religión. Apenas si ibas dos o tres veces al año a la iglesia. Y odiabas el cuchicheo de las viejas parlanchinas que siempre te llamaban la eterna solterona”
¿M? Hacía muchos años que nadie la llamaba así. De pronto, comenzó a sentir algo familiar en el extraño.
Marta recordaba muy bien su vida solitaria. Su pequeño apartamento, su monótono empleo en el ayuntamiento. Quizás no era una vida emocionante, pero no se arrepentía de ella.
“Mejor sola que mal acompañada, ¿no es así?”, agregó el extraño ocultando una sonrisa
Y sin dejar que Marta se defendiera, el extraño continuó
“La respuesta que no deseas escuchar es Sí. Desafortunadamente, nadie se dio cuenta que caíste por la borda del hermoso crucero en el que siempre quisiste pasar tus vacaciones después de 10 años de trabajo continuo”
Marta recordaba que no era lo que esperaba, pese a sus ahorros apenas había conseguido una habitación regular y no la suite de lujo.
“Las situaciones no son especiales, somos nosotros quienes las hacemos especiales. Es nuestra actitud”, exclamó el extraño.
Marta meditó por un momento esa última frase.
“Ven”, sorprendió el extraño extendiendo su mano
Marta dudó por un segundo, pero la expresión dulce del chico la convenció. Y no era tan viejo como parecía.
Cuando Marta tomó su mano, la escena cambió, ya no estaba en la playa solitaria. Se encontraba en algo parecido a un campus universitario; edificios por doquier, personas deambulando con libros, una enredadera de caminos de concreto entre las áreas verdes, jóvenes reunidos tomando notas.
El extraño sonrió, pero ya no era el hombre que había visto en la playa
“¡George!”, gritó Marta
“¡Hermanita!”
Ambos se abrazaron con fuerza durante un largo instante.
“Te he extrañado muchísimo”, dijo Marta sollozando
“Lo sé”, respondió George
“Sé que tienes muchas preguntas”, pausó George, “pero tenemos toda la eternidad para responderlas”
Marta no sabía que decir
“Relájate, jamás volverás a estar sola hermanita”, manifestó con dulzura
“¡Vamos! Hay muchas otras personas ansiosas por verte”, gritó George alegre
Finalmente, ambos se adentraron entre la enredadera de caminos.
Hasta la próxima.
Very entertaining! Poor Marta. Let's hope heaven lives up to her expectations. Sure if you can't even get a luxury suite on the beautiful cruise ship, aren't you better off dead:)
😄lol! Thanks for passing by
Hello @jadams2k18, we noticed that your sourcing does not link directly back to your image, please update this.
This take on the prompt has us spell bound from the get-go, mesmerizing us with descriptions that tell the story in action. Your choice of words here is brilliant, packing the discussion between Marta and the man under the umbrella with detail. Thank you for sharing your story with us, don't forget to engage with other members of the community as well!
That's weird! I always take the link they offer on Pixabay to thank the author of the image. Maybe it's their mistake, however, I will update the link to the direct URL.
Thanks again for noticing that and for reading my post.
So long :D
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