Reflections of the past // Reflejos del pasado

in The Ink Well4 months ago


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In the streets of a large and noisy city, there was always a man wandering around lost and with no apparent destination, always struggling to survive another day, without the slightest notion of time, or who he was in the past. His appearance was unrecognisable and incomprehensible to those who had known him in his heyday. His rather long hair was full of grey hair and a lot of dirt, which came from those places where he continually spent the night, taking refuge in any corner where he could hide or in the rubbish to find something to eat. This man's beard was already so long that it hid many of the features of his face. His clothes were very torn and worn out, and their colours were already impossible to distinguish because of the dirt on them. His shoes, now non-existent, were only a reflection of what the man had once been.

It was rush hour in the city, and vehicles were moving faster than a land tortoise. Victor was a man who in his youth had been a professional player, but fate forced him to end his career prematurely, and after many years away from that world, he had managed to become the youth coach of the city team. His son Carlos, every afternoon, would join the team coached by his father, after finishing school. Both were on their way home in the family car that Victor had bought just a couple of years ago, when his financial situation improved considerably after signing the coaching contract with the team.

-Son, are you watching that man? -Victor asked his son Carlos.

-What man is he, dad? -Carlos answered his father with another question, as if he didn't know who Victor was referring to.

-The one lying near the rubbish bins. -Victor replied, as he pointed out the man's location to his son.

-The homeless man? -asked Carlos, very surprised, not understanding why his father was mentioning that man.

-Yes son, that's the man I'm referring to. -Victor answered.

-What about the father? -Carlos asked again, as he looked sideways in the direction of the man.

-That homeless man you see over there, a few years ago he was an important businessman in this city. He made very bad decisions and the consequences are these -Victor replied, as he started the vehicle, overtook a little and then slowed down again because of the lack of mobility in the queue—. That man got involved in the world of illegal gambling along with some players from the Club. —he added.

-And what happened dad? -asked Carlos intrigued.

-Sometimes things don't turn out the way you want them to and there are some very bad people in that world. -Victor answered, as he sounded the horn of the vehicle, so that the others would move forward.

Victor was a man who had always been a good father and tried to teach his son Carlos good values. Sometimes he would tell him stories of great leaders and universal heroes, but sometimes he would just choose to narrate some real life events, always hoping that his son would ask the right questions.

-Why would someone successful do something like that? -Carlos asked, as he frowned and tried to picture the situation, but he had never heard any stories about the man before.

Carlos, for his part, was a very intelligent young man and a great student, in addition to being a good athlete and competitor, who always showed a great interest in learning new things. His capacity for analysis at such a young age allowed him to interpret and learn as quickly as a dry sponge absorbs water.

-Son, there are people who always want more and end up giving in to blind ambition, without measuring the consequences. -Victor replied.

-But what did this man do to reach such an extreme? -asked Carlos again.

-He bet all his money and assets that our team would win the league. -said Victor.

-But when the team failed to win, he refused to pay. In the end he couldn't escape the debt. He was left broke, with nothing. He couldn't bear it. -he added.

Carlos listened to his father's story with interest.

-After that he lost his mind, his relatives tried to help him, but every time they did, he escaped back into the street and in the end they gave up, leaving him to his fate. -said Victor.

-That's very sad, Dad. -said Carlos in a sad voice.

-Sometimes the lust for power and more money leads people to make very bad decisions in life, son. -said Victor, as he finally managed to get out of the traffic jam and turn at the next junction to continue on his way home.

-And what happened to the players involved, Dad? -Carlos finally asked, wanting to know a little more about the story.

-They were found out and fired. They were never again contracted to play professionally with any other team. -Victor answered.

-Why did you tell me that, Dad? -asked Carlos, inquiring into his father's motivations.

-Because I was very young when I made that mistake and I wanted you to know about it, so that you will never make the same mistakes as your father, my son. -Victor answered, thus revealing to his son the secret he didn't know about his father's life.

Carlos looked at his father tenderly, while his eyes watered and were on the verge of tears. He didn't ask or say anything else, he only meditated the last few minutes before arriving home, he had understood that the fate of that homeless man could also have been his father's. He thought deeply about the story he had just been told. He thought deeply about the story he had just been told. It had seemed a bit tragic, exaggerated and extremist, but he had learned a lesson in life that he would never forget, and above all he felt proud of the trust that his father had placed in him... When Carlos got home, he hugged his father Victor.


  • Illustrative image generated with Bing.com.

  • Original story written in Spanish and translated for The Ink Well, with DeepL.com (Free version).


Click here to read in Spanish

Reflejos del pasado

En las calles de una gran y ruidosa ciudad, siempre solía observarse a un hombre deambulando perdido y sin destino aparente, luchando siempre por sobrevivir un día más, sin tener ni la mínima noción del tiempo, ni tampoco quién fue en el pasado. Su aspecto era irreconocible e incomprensible a la vista de aquellos que lo habían conocido en su época de auge. Su cabello bastante largo se encontraba lleno de canas y mucha suciedad, que provenía de esos lugares donde continuamente pasaba la noche, refugiándose en cualquier rincón donde pudiera esconderse o entre la basura para encontrar algo de comer. La barba de este hombre ya era tan larga, que ocultaba muchas de las facciones de su rostro. Sus ropas se encontraban muy rotas y desgastadas, y ya sus colores eran imposibles de distinguir por el mugre que había en ellas. Sus zapatos ya inexistentes, eran solo el reflejo de lo que en otra época ese hombre fue.

Era la hora pico del tránsito en la ciudad, y los vehículos avanzaban menos que una tortuga terrestre. Victor era un hombre que en su juventud había sido un jugador profesional, a quien el destino le obligó a culminar su carrera antes de tiempo, y después de muchos años alejado de ese mundo, había logrado fungir como entrenador de categorías menores en el equipo de la ciudad. Su hijo Carlos, todas las tardes, se sumaba a entrenar junto al equipo que dirigía su padre, después de terminar las clases del colegio. Ambos se dirigían camino a casa, en el vehículo familiar que Victor había adquirido apenas un par de años atrás, cuando su situación económica mejoró notablemente después de firmar el contrato de entrenador en aquel equipo.

—¿Hijo, observas a ese hombre? —preguntó Victor a su hijo Carlos.

—¿Qué hombre es papá? —Contestó Carlos a su padre con otra pregunta, en señal de desconocer a quien hacía referencia Victor.

—El que está acostado cerca de los contenedores de basura. —replicó Victor, mientras señalaba a su hijo la ubicación de aquel hombre.

—¿El indigente? —preguntó Carlos muy sorprendido, sin entender porque su padre le hacía mención de ese hombre.

—Si hijo, a ese hombre me refiero—contestó Victor.

—¿Qué hay con el papá? —preguntó Carlos nuevamente, mientras observaba de reojo en dirección a ese hombre.

—Ese indigente que ves allí, hace algunos años era un importante empresario de esta ciudad. Tomó muy malas decisiones y las consecuencias son estas. —contestó Victor, mientras ponía en marcha al vehículo, adelantaba un poco y luego volvía a frenar por la poca movilidad en la cola—. Ese hombre se involucró en el mundo de las apuestas ilegales junto a algunos jugadores del Club —añadió.

—¿Y que paso papá? —preguntó Carlos intrigado.

—A veces las cosas no resultan como se quieren y en ese mundo hay personas muy malas. —contestó Victor, mientras hacia la sonar la bocina del vehículo, para que los otros avanzaran.

Victor, era un hombre que siempre había sido un buen padre y trataba de enseñarle buenos valores a su hijo Carlos. A veces le contaba historias de grandes líderes y héroes universales, pero otras veces solo elegía narrar algunos hechos de la vida real, siempre esperando que su hijo hiciera las preguntas correctas.

—¿Por qué alguien exitoso haría algo así? —preguntó Carlos, mientras fruncía el ceño y trataba de hacerse imágenes sobre la situación, pero nunca antes había escuchado historia alguna sobre ese hombre.

Por su parte Carlos, era un joven muy inteligente y un gran estudiante, además de ser un buen atleta y competidor, que siempre demostraba una gran interés por aprender cosas nuevas. Su capacidad de análisis a tan corta edad, le permitía interpretar y obtener aprendizajes de una forma tan rápida, al igual que una esponja seca absorbe al agua.

—Hijo, hay personas que siempre quieren más y terminan cediendo ante una ambición ciega, sin medir las consecuencias. —contestó Victor.

—¿Pero qué fue lo que hizo ese hombre para llegar a ese extremo? —preguntó nuevamente Carlos.

—Apostó todo su dinero y bienes a qué nuestro equipo ganaría la liga —dijo Victor—. Pero, cuando el equipo no pudo ganar, él se negó a pagar. Al final no pudo escapar a la deuda. Quedó en la ruina, sin nada. No pudo soportarlo. —añadió Victor.

Carlos, prestaba atención a la historia que le contaba su padre con interés.

—Después de eso perdió la razón, su familiares trataron de ayudarlo, pero cada que lo hacían, él volvía escapar a la calle y al final se rindieron dejándolo a su suerte. —contó Victor.

—Eso es muy triste papá. —dijo Carlos con voz triste.

—A veces las ansias de poder y más dinero, lleva a las personas a tomar muy malas decisiones en la vida hijo. —dijo Víctor, mientras finalmente lograba salir del atasco y doblar en el siguiente cruce, para continuar el camino a Casa.

—¿Y qué pasó con los jugadores involucrados papá?—preguntó finalmente Carlos queriendo saber un poco más en relación a la historia.

—Fueron descubiertos y despedidos. Nunca más obtuvieron contrató para jugar profesionalmente con ningún otro equipo. —respondió Victor.

—¿Por qué me has contado eso papá? —indagó Carlos en las motivaciones de su padre.

—Porque yo era muy joven cuando cometí ese error y quería que lo supieras, para que nunca cometas las mismas equivocaciones de tu papá, hijo mío—contestó Victor, revelando así a su hijo, aquel secreto que este desconocía sobre la vida de su papá.

Carlos miró a su padre tiernamente, mientras sus ojos se aguaron y estuvieron a punto de derramar lágrimas. No preguntó, ni dijo nada más, solo meditó los últimos minutos antes de llegar al hogar, había entendido que el destino de ese indigente también pudo haber sido el de su papá. Pensó profundamente sobre esa historia que le acababan de contar. Aquello le había parecido un poco trágico, exagerado y extremista, sin embargo obtuvo una lección de vida que nunca olvidaría, y sobre todo se sintió más orgulloso por la confianza que su papá había depositado en él… Al llegar a casa Carlos abrazó a su padre Víctor.


  • Imagen ilustrativa generada con Bing.com

  • Historia original escrita en español y traducida para The Ink Well, con DeepL.com (Versión gratuita).



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One writer to another--there is a quite simple, perhaps not elegant but workable way to make the break. You can put a visual clue between the paragraphs. Anything, a box, a line, a triangle. This is an unsophisticated fix, but it does work. Sometimes, more words slow the piece down. Your piece has a good pace. If you add words, try to be certain that they don't slow your piece down.

You have excellent instincts as a writer. I'm surprised you're new at this, because you are good. The best thing you have going for you is your insight and sensitivity. By all means, keep writing.🌷

Much appreciated 👍👍👍👍. I will take your advice into account. Thank you 😊

Hello @wlin,

I liked this story very much. You have a sensitive, reflective perspective. Your descriptions are rich in context. That is, details are not only visual, but also have a backstory. Ex: His shoes, now non-existent, were only a reflection of what the man had once been.

By the end of the first paragraph we are hungry to know about this man. You offer us a history in the form of the father who is driving by in traffic where vehicles were moving faster than a land tortoise. Not only is this description highly visual, and places us in the moment, but it also explains why the father is able to talk to his son at length even though he is driving.

As wonderful as I found your story, I feel obliged, as a fellow writer, to point out a critical flaw. If I were in a writing workshop with you (I have been in several) I would offer this observation: there is a rupture in POV transition between the narrator description of the homeless man, and the father's conversation in the car. It would be very helpful if you indicated between the paragraphs that there is a break. As it is, readers are lost for a minute and don't realize the father is talking (this reader was lost, anyway).

I think you are a talented writer and you certainly have something to say. This is my favorite kind of writer :)

I hope to read more from you.

Greetings dear @agmoore

Thank you very much for your excellent comment; It is very pleasing for me to know that you took the time to detail and consider my story as enjoyable; even more to suggest me how to improve it for the future.

To be very honest, I have always been a fan of well-written stories, those that make you imagine the narrative details that revolve around this one, but I am quite new to writing, and I don't quite understand the pause between paragraphs, but I do understand from your analysis, how a reader may have missed that connection between the description of the first man and his entrance on the scene, during the story narrated by the father to his son. I think there were a few lines missing to enrich the story.

I also know that I still have a lot to read, a lot to practice and learn, so I think I'm in the right place. That's the main reason why I joined @theinkwell.

Thank you 😊

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