The Humble Master

Not long before, Rupert had teased Luce for their neglected hobbies. "We are too lost in ourselves" he said only half jokingly, "our own greediness will kill us." She had died then dramatically in his arms, with a whole opera of sighs and gestures. He smiled at his own reminiscence, picturing with nostalgic colours her stretched arms and curved neck, lying playfully dead like a silent cinema star in her final scene?
Shit, it was still Tuesday!
He looked through the kitchen window, a steamy cup of tea in his hands. The snow covered all the garden. It would be hard for it, but old sayings held old truths. A snow year, a rich year. It would have been their first snow together, an unusual event so close to the sea, and he regretted not being able to share it full time with Luce. Even if Luce, cat-like as she was, would never have got her paws wet and cold.
God, he missed her!
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Pig and Pepper

The good family has lots of hatred and lots of love. But, pitifully, not in a balanced way. Christmas had come and gone and they still were out of F. Land. Lucy was resigned. Rupert was sad.
Once or twice she was lucky and could hide in the garden to whisper dark secrets and sad questions to a lonely flower. Lucy hoped Rupert would listen to another lonely flower in his newly rented garden on the border of F. Land. Lucy told the flower terrible tales about families who practiced excess. She wondered about the true nature of family. How, sometimes, it seemed they needed to hurt themselves only to prove they still cared about each other. To prove it still mattered. Someone said once, no-one with a family can really be free.
Lucy missed Rupert. A few miles away, a lonely flower seduced Rupert with its fragance.
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The Gift from Scaramouche

All the students were going to be sent home for Christmas Eve. The bed-rooms, the corridors, the grounds... all the school was bubbling with enthusiasm. Not only for the break, but for the end of term party. The second form had formed a band for the Yule Ball, but before that, the third grade had prepared a pantomime. Parents and friends had been invited too. Rupert went for Lucy.
It was really late when the parents left and it took a while for the school to quieten down at last. Whispers and laughs coming from the shared bed-rooms. A door silently opened. Careful feet going downstairs. The back window of the kitchen never closed well. Rupert was waiting.
"I'll come back the day after tomorrow" Lucy said between kisses, "they give me a pass just for Christmas Day."
"I'll be with my parents."
"How long?"
"A week."
Rupert kissed her. A really good kiss.
"Then we need a lot of memories to keep going until we see each other again."
"We have all night, Rupert."
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Bad Marks

Lucy stared angrily at the red D on the top right of her paper. Anger and fury raging through her body. But she knew that even though throwing something at the wall would calm her down, it would worsen her current situation. Mr. Carter had been adamant when he had summoned her after class. If she kept failing Masonry, it would mean more than detentions. If she kept falling Masonry, she would have to share her room and, at worst, her visits forbidden! Outrageous! Lucy almost growled in sheer rage. The craving to let the anger run freely through her fingers was overwhelming. With a real but soft growl, she sat at the desk.
She was trying really hard, Mr. Carter couldn't say a word about that. But her lighthouses kept falling as inexorably as her marks. They fell down scattering mishapen stones all around. It should't be so difficult! She moved to the window-seat, sighing at the peacefully white, snowy view.
Her stones weren't ever well-balanced.
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Memory tricks

El aventurero brinda y festeja. A veces hay caminos que vuelven a cruzarse. El cuerpo es traicionero. Posee su propia memoria, su particular adaptabilidad. Hay cuerpos en los que la carne se relaja, se amolda, se funde. Pero hay otros cuerpos en los que la tensión es fuego que quema, que hiere, que lucha. Hay cuerpos para abrazarse y cuerpos para perder el sentido. Sangre y huesos sin conciencia pero con memoria.
Existen leyendas de amantes fugitivos en playas de perlas, o de amantes contrariados enterrados uno frente a otro. Hechizos de amor y desamor. Fábulas y leyendas, cuentos imposibles. Princesas encantadas y príncipes encantadores. Embrujos. Maleficios. ¿El peor de todos? La maldición desequilibrada. Países separados por océanos y continentes la conocen. Ella siempre se vuelve loca. Él siempre muere. No es una historia agradable. Cuando el cuerpo y la mente no van en la misma dirección... bueno, el desequilibrio es evidente. Hay cuerpos que se llevan mejor que sus dueños. Hay dueños que se quieren más que sus cuerpos.
El aventurero folla sin piedad y ama con pasión. Ave de paso, nunca se queda. Tampoco pide acompáñame. Rompe la maldición a la manera alejandrina, sin deshacer el nudo.
Si la mente no está, los ratones juegan.
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