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(Esta es una publicación bilingüe, puedes ver la versión en castellano al final del post)
Hello community, it is the first time I participate here. I hope you like my tale. Good luck to all.
The photo shows us a circus fire-breather.
The circus artist who appears to spit fire is known by the name of fire-eater, fire-thrower or fire-spitter and what he actually does is expel a flammable liquid from his mouth that, upon contact with the fire, will turn into a flame, giving the impression that the candle has come out of him. Reading about it I learned that it seems that this act of “magic” is originally from India.
For my part, I imagine that after years working with those chemicals it will have some adverse effect on your tongue, your taste buds or something like that.
My grandfather did a “magic” trick in which he took a handkerchief soaked in absolute alcohol, he held a lit match to it and the handkerchief would burn for a moment and then it would remain normal, without any burn.
What I did was soak the handkerchief in water before putting it in the alcohol. The water prevented the handkerchief from burning, apart from the fact that the fire was extremely fleeting, which took time for the alcohol to burn. I took this element for the short story with which I participate in this week's contest.
The Circus Artist has adequately prepared for his act. He prefers to perform at night and outdoor performances.
Seeing the admiration in the eyes of the little ones fills his spirits and gives him more satisfaction than the salary that arrives punctually fortnight after fortnight.
That morning, while buying some items in a small store, he heard a small voice behind him, with an anguished tone the words were:
- Be careful, mom, that's the man who breathes fire.
He turns around and sees a girl of about six years old looking at his voice, in her eyes he can read admiration and fear. He smiles at her and, putting his hand in his jacket pocket, asks his mother: - Can I give your girl some candy?
The mother nods and Leo takes out three candies, one for the girl, one for the mother and one for himself. - Here, baby, and don't be afraid. I only spit fire in the circus.
The mother, with a sad look and dressed entirely in black, smiles lightly and takes the candy in silence. - My dad lit a handkerchief that didn't burn... but he didn't spit fire like you. He told me he was the Lord of Fire, but they put him in a box and took him away.
- They only took his body, Dina, dad is still alive. One day we will meet him again.
Leo sees the young woman's eyes filled with tears and feels extremely uncomfortable, not knowing what to say. She notices it and comments:
-Don't worry. Anyway, words are just that… words. And...many times they hide from us when we need them most and they appear days later and now, for what? - And why don't you spit fire here?
- Because it could burn things.
- My mother ran out of gas, that's why we came to buy bread, because she has no way to cook. Can you spit fire at home so that mom can make lunch?
- Dina!
The scolding tone was useless, Dina had no idea she had said anything inconvenient. She did not consider herself scolded and Carla thought “Another frustrated scolding.”
Leo invited them to lunch at a nearby restaurant and after some struggle between Carla's refusals and Dina's enthusiasm, they ended up sharing bittersweet memories over their plates of spaghetti carbonara, with a tres leches cake for dessert and a glass huge amount of guava juice.
That night there was a performance again and this time Carla and Dina repeated their trip to the circus but with courtesy passes.
Dina boasted that she was a friend of the man “who spits fire but can't cook with it but the spaghetti was tasty.”
The next day the circus was leaving, a relationship, not even a friendly one, could not be crystallized, but this passage remained as a pleasant memory in the minds of the three.
- Dina!
If you have not yet participated in this contest organized by @freewritehouse, I invite you to have a special date with imagination every week
You can read the contest rules by clicking here
La foto nos muestra a un escupefuego circense. Con el nombre de tragafuegos, lanzafuego o escupefuego se conoce al artista de circo que aparenta escupir fuego y lo que hace en realidad es expulsar por su boca un líquido inflamable que al contacto con el fuego se convertirá en una llamarada dando la impresión de que la candela ha salido de él. Leyendo al respecto me enteré que parece ser que este acto de “magia” es originario de la India.
Por mi parte imagino que después de años trabajando con esos químicos algún efecto adverso tendrá en su lengua, en sus papilas gustativas o algo así.
Mi abuelo hacía un truco de “magia” en el cual tomaba un pañuelo empapado de alcohol absoluto, le acercaba un fósforo (cerillo) encendido y el pañuelo ardía por un momento y luego quedaba normal, sin quemadura alguna. Lo que hacía era empapar el pañuelo en agua antes de introducirlo en el alcohol. El agua impedía que el pañuelo se quemara, aparte de que el fuego era sumamente fugaz, lo que tardaba el alcohol en quemarse. Tomé este elemento para la breve narración con la cual participo en el concurso de esta semana.
El Artista circense se ha preparado adecuadamente para su acto. Prefiere presentarse en la función nocturna y al aire libre. Ver la admiración en los ojos de los más pequeños le llena el ánimo y le da mas satisfacción que el sueldo que le llega puntualmente quincena tras quincena.
Esa mañana, comprando algunos artículos en una pequeña tienda escucha una vocecilla tras sí, con tono de angustia las palabras fueron: -Cuidado, mamá, ese es el señor que escupe fuego.
Voltea y ve a una niña de unos seis años que le mira a su voz, en su mirada puede leer admiración y temor. Le sonríe e introduciendo la mano en el bolsillo de su chaqueta pregunta a la madre: -¿Puedo obsequiar un caramelo a su niña?
La madre asiente y Leo saca tres caramelos, uno para la niña, una para la madre y uno para sí mismo. -Toma, nena, y no tengas miedo. Sólo escupo fuego en el circo.
La madre, de triste mirada y vestida totalmente de negro esboza una leve sonrisa y toma el caramelo en silencio. -Mi papá encendía un pañuelo que no se quemaba… pero no escupía fuego como usted. Él me decía que era el señor del fuego, pero lo metieron en una caja y se lo llevaron. -Sólo se llevaron su cuerpo, Dina, papá sigue vivo. Un día nos reuniremos nuevamente con él.
Leo ve los ojos arrasados en lágrimas de la joven y se siente sumamente incómodo sin saber qué decir. Ella lo nota y comenta: -No se preocupe. De todas formas las palabras son solo eso… palabras. Y…muchas veces se nos esconden cuando más las necesitamos y aparecen días después y ya ¿Para qué? -- ¿Y usted por qué no escupe fuego aquí? -Porque podría quemar las cosas. -A mi mamá se le terminó la bombona, por eso vinimos a comprar pan, porque no tiene cómo cocinar ¿Usted puede escupir fuego en casa para que mamá haga el almuerzo? -- ¡Dina!
El tono de regaño fue inútil, Dina no tenía ni idea de que hubiera dicho algo inconveniente. No se consideró regañada y Carla pensó “Otro regaño frustrado” Leo las invitó a almorzar a un restaurancillo cercano y después de cierto forcejeo entre las negativas de Carla y el entusiasmo de Dina, terminaron compartiendo recuerdos agridulces frente a sus platos de espaguetis a la carbonara, con una torta tres leches de postre y un vaso inmenso de jugo de guayaba.
Esa noche hubo función de nuevo y esta vez Carla y Dina repitieron su ida al circo pero con pases de cortesía. Dina presumía de ser amiga del señor “que escupe fuego pero no puede cocinar con eso pero los espaguetis estaban sabrosos”
Al día siguiente se iba el circo, no se pudo cristalizar una relación ni siquiera amistosa, pero este pasaje quedó como un recuerdo grato en la mente de los tres.
Puedes leer las bases del concurso clicando [acá](https://ecency.com/hive-161155/@freewritehouse/a-picture-is-worth-a-thousand-words-si001h?raw)
Muchas gracias por visitar mi blog y leer mi post. Espero que esta sea una semana llena de cosas buenas para ti y tu familia. Dios te bendiga.
Thank you very much for visiting my blog and reading my post. I hope this be a week full of good things for you and your family. God bless you,
Your visit to my blog is very important to me,
I hope you liked the result of my writing work and leave with the intention of returning.
Tu visita a mi blog es muy importante para mí. Espero que te haya gustado el resultado de mi trabajo literario y te vayas con la intención de regresar.
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Well done on the first entry ... that was a bittersweet yet lovely story.
Thanks for the support. I'm glad you liked it and I'm thrilled that you found it lovely. Blessings.
Great story but why a friendship wasn't in it? Fun is what we all need.
Oh, well, I think it is a good questiopn. A friendship did not appear because they had to separate as soon as they met. If he had been able to stay in the town, they would have been able to visit each other, go out together, get to know each other better, share many things and become good friends.
Thanks for your visit and support.
Thanks for explaining
You are ever welcome.