Joaquine: Short Stories and Poems

A Bond The night will come and the seas will announce His arrival The Skies will part the coming ages He comes He comes Bringer of truth The Mender He Comes. -           Sor Juana, Tower of the Sun. The Imperial Eagle spread her wings as the wind carries her in the cold embrace of the early morning hunt. Majestically the Mountains of Mist spread below her with their flat peaks on the other side the Tower of the Sun spreads up to the sky with its twisted stairs and shut windows.  The Eagle scanned with sharp eyes and moved on to the real hunt.  The Mountains hid the real treasures where man did not hunt. A white rabbit came out of its hiding hole as the sun rays caressed the slopes of the mountain. The silent killer circled and stalked as the rabbit tried to escape. It was too late. Off the ground the rabbit went limp and the world continued its stream of life. The farmers farmed their lands and the bakers made their bread. The city of Mist at the foothills o

                Rain pours down in the old church. A tall man touches the old rusty door handles and opens the door. The door clicks and he sees a river of candles illuminating the dark church. He hears whispers coming out of the shadows. The smell of incense and burning wax penetrate his nose making his head a little dizzy.  He walks. His boots splashing against the wooden floor makes some people turn around and stare at him with candles in their hands. He makes his way to the altar leaving trails of mud and water behind. When he arrives at the altar he sees a priest kneeled down and facing the altar, shaking the container that has incense in it and it is creating a curtain of smoke that rises all the way to the ceiling that has paints of Popes and Saints. The priest is wearing a long white robe with a large red painted cross across his back. The man’s mind keeps replaying the images of his master’s son being murder; rusty nails, blood everywhere and screams of women and m

Chapter 1 A Meeting                 Fear and passion intertwined at the moment his lips were about to meet her soft and carnal lips; he stopped for a moment with his eyes wide open and his heart beating so fast that his blood run wild throughout his body and his arms quickly embraced the girl and he got missed into the point of no return. After that his world became an interstellar war with the heat that her body transpired and the fast beating heart of hers was music to his ears.  He well knew that it was the first and last time he would experience that moment with her. Even thought he had just met her not even two hours ago, but yet he adventured to share this intimate moment with her, even if it could mean his death. He savored her aroma and slowly began to consume her energy making her zombie like, until she was under his control. He smiles and puts his teeth around her neck and the blood begins to flow freely and so do her memories. Images of her and her father playing o

The evaporating aroma of roasted coffee spread between her red lips. The enhanced eyelashes accentuated her contacted blue eyes. Her long and curly hair hung on her bare shoulders. It was real and undisturbed. A modern Helen of Troy many claimed. She with her air of a Goddess prowled the streets with her high heels and polished nails. She ruled from her queen-sized throne. Fierce and wild she took men and women to the realm of ecstasy. Her arched back and small breasts covered in the melting of the bodies. She was a good school girl, a nun, a Mom. Anything her victims wanted. She was a fair queen. Dishearten queens tried to assault her realm. She knocked them out with her iron fist that broke noses. She was the only queen this realm needed. She was once mortal. That had a loving mother that made cookies during the long and dark winter nights. During the day she built snow castles and made snow angels with her faithful companion Mr. Spot.

Chapter I Picture Source: George Diebold's “Black Sand Beach” is featured in the current Black + White exposition at Heather Gaudio Fine Art in New Canaan, Conn. A new day spreads over the horizon, the sound of gun shots already echo along the hallow mountains of the Black Shore Island. “Load…Lock… Fire! ” Ayden, the master of arms, shouts in a commanding voice and the girls empty their magazines from their long rifles and bullets fly for a second and meet their targets with extreme precision, the pigs fall to the ground as the bullets meet their heads, and a few of their terrified squeals die off as bullets bring them down.  Masaki feels her fingers frozen when she finishes her last target. The morning is cold and she has been up since 04:30 this morning, when Ayden sounded the trumpets and everyone woke up in unison with their sleepy eyes and their warm cotton pajamas.  But, now it was freezing to the bone and she is hungry, she wishes she could jump where the dead pigs

Heart Shadows                 Lucy was her name at least that was what she was called in that dirty Brothel between Bryant and 21 st.  San Francisco, California .  She came from Fresno, California five years ago during the infernal summer of ’03. Other than that, not many people know what her previous life was like. Of course, I know since it is my job to know stuff about people. I know she graduated from a Visalia High School as an honor student in the spring of ’01. She came from a rich family, owners of many farms and restaurants.                   But, as in every family there is always a black sheep. And Lucy, or rather Esther Pausini that is her real name, is the black sheep of the Pausini family. After her father died in the summer of ’01, her world went down the tubes. She began doing drugs and began hanging out with the wrong people.  This I was told by my contact, that I should talk more about later on.   She was kicked out of her house during that winter, and all he

Santa Maria Hot and water-sucking wind greets the inmates  day in and day out. Colossal concrete                 watch them omnisciently Trapped they cringe to the shadows, of their former selves. e towers,  Shells of forgotten Hotels loom on the quadrant of death. Where Vertical death hangs, from head to toe. That is if they are lucky on their escape; otherwise wild dogs and half humans devour them alive.                 Deviance was their mistress; beautiful with her blue eyes and innocent smile, she promised never to tell, never to tell… She lurks poisonously in their nightmares, and hallucinations. The desolated and empty beach lures the unwise and foolish. It traps them; in the man-made traps and hungry dragons. The unrelenting Sun cracks open their skins, and their old wounds. The putrefied urine walls sink into their pores, there is no escape. Agony is stuff of novices; broken faces cracked lips suck the old cactus. Unspeakable rules