Joaquine: Short Stories and Poems

Your gift of sight penetrates my soul like a hidden knife in the darkness and with your judging green eyes make me feel naked and alive. Shamelessly I look at your emotionless face that has sleepless nights and worldly worries for makeup--- your yellow teeth and dry lips speak of the future. A future that you deliriously claim to be doomed: the quakes, the hurricanes, and the fires. In your brief visits from the sleep kingdom you wake up screaming “The Fires, the fires can’t forget those!” I hold you between my arms and I whisper prayers to the Father and the Son. Doctors and shamans have been unable to stop your shakes and blackouts. The Priests call it a blessing  the press can’t stop knocking our doors our families turned their backs on us. The world turns and turns. Your prophesies begin to come true--- the world burns, the grounds shake, and the skies cry in agony, sinners beat their chest and ask for forgiveness. There is no salvation for us.

The Crying                 The cries of the baby break the silence of the cold and dark night.  The wind closes and opens the wooden windows now and then. The fall leaves that have not been picked up making small mountains that the wind breaks and makes them again in a distant corner of the brown grass.  On the second floor of the house a shadow of a woman is reflected into the large wooden wall that has pieces of yellowish wallpaper hanging-out. An oil lamp is all that is illuminating the room.                 “When will all you stop crying? It is driving me crazy!” she says, holding one baby with one hand and the bucket of water with the other. She puts the baby on the metallic container and pours the warm water into it, while the other baby cries from across the room.  She pours some water with her hand over the baby face to wash him. Her long and sharp nail scratches the baby’s nose and blood begins to pour out. The baby cries out louder with tears running down from his eyes.

Chapter 4                  “Chained we stood at the edge of the world for we once were like gods. Over the edge we were thrown into the darkness. Hades welcomed us with its cold embrace. Into the darkness we emerged anew.” –Memories of a Fallen.                 Captain Rodrigo Robles stood straight before the Great Commander Buendia. With his fist to his chest and his chin up. The Imperial salute. The Commander returned the salute and the Captain smiled. The city burned behind them as more Fallen continued to pour out of the sewers but there was still time for formalities. “We have lost most of the Pink district, Sir.” The Captain said.                 The Church bells continued to sound around the city and the whole city was awake by now. “I know,” The Commander replied.  “Martin send more reinforcements to the cathedral and tell Joseph to stop screwing around and get those marines to the harbor.”                 Officer Martin saluted and left at once.

When Will This Journey End? Chapter 1.   The wind blew over the Silk Road. Slaves and Masters smiled as the fresh breeze cooled their sweaty head. A whip flashed through the air and hit a bull to pull the heavy load forward. The Road was almost finish and the inauguration was just over the next full moon. The final touches were being done and everything was getting ready for the big celebration. Everyone was nervous because it had been one of the greatest investments of the Eastern Kingdoms and the Middle Kingdoms that just a few generations fought in bloody wars and never ending disputes. This road was a sign of the peace that now reigned in the region. Of course, it was not something that was done overnight. Kings and Queens had to fight for the project to move forward. But, that story is for another time.

                Luke’s mother has always avoided talking about the brown traveling case that is under the bed. Whenever she cleans up under the bed, Luke always asks her what is inside the case but she just changes the subject and moves on.  She always keeps the little golden key that opens the case around her neck and never takes it off unless when she showers. Luke has made many attempts to get the key but he never gets it. Today, his aunt, Mary, and cousin, Laura, are visiting them. Laura is thirteen just like Luke is. She is a little taller than and she has always made fun of how short he is. “Hey you still the short one” Laura says putting her hand on top of Luke’s head and showing him that he just reaches where her nose is. “You know that guys grow a little slower and someday I will be taller than you!” he says and runs off to the living room. Her aunt and mom stay on the kitchen getting ready to go out and shop the presents for Christmas. Luke’s mother goes to the living

The Last Song                  The rain fell in the paved and trashed alley the black and blue trash bins welcomed the cleansing rain. It was another typical summer rain in the City. A black cat licked his pawns under the shelter of the pizzeria place hanging roof and the fat owner snored the afternoon away. His long and greasy hair hugged his rounded face. Inside the pizzeria flies and turned chairs ruled the dark place. In the kitchen the old brick oven laid wide open with flames licking out into the darkness now and then. The delivery driver sat in front of the old computer with the office door closed and his pants unbuttoned watching his favorite popup filled porn; big silicone lesbians with heroin marks still fresh around their bodies. There was no sound in that old computer but there was no need for our savvy driver. He just filled the blank moans with his imagination. It was better this way he thought. Besides the closed office there lies the most interesting person in this