Three Short Stories 2q426h

Three Short Stories

Juan Pablo Benítez

Published by Juan Pablo Benítez, 2021.

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

THREE SHORT STORIES

First edition. February 4, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 Juan Pablo Benítez.

ISBN: 978-1393285502

Written by Juan Pablo Benítez.

Also by Juan Pablo Benítez

Arami Maki Arami Maki y el reino de Tarflos Arami Maki y el secreto de Vestido Mágico.

Standalone Veinte por treinta El país de las panaderías The Country of Bakeries Tres cuentos breves Arami Maki y el secreto de Vestido Mágico Three Short Stories Twenty by Thirty

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Juan Pablo Benítez

Dedication

THE COUNTRY OF BAKERIES

THE MAN AND THE MISER

THE FOREIGN STEVEDORE

END

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Further Reading: Twenty by Thirty

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THE COUNTRY OF BAKERIES

Asingular morning was unfolding on the slopes of the majestic massif, which stood gallantly above what appeared to be a luxurious stole of glitter and sequins. This was a consequence of the reflection of the sun's rays, which bathed the entire valley and the city around the Titan volcano; whose inactivity had allowed, over many centuries, to strengthen urban growth. In reality, it was a city of singular importance that had flourished; giving rise to an important center of commerce, but even more of political power. In the surroundings of the city, there was a vast expanse of lush forests, dominated by “austral” trees. These were tall trees, and with an incredible capacity for adaptability to different levels of soil moisture. They had a penetrating aroma and their extensive roots moved up and down the ground, as if they were hinting at the intention of these giants to walk out. In its interior, inhabited a countless number of wild animals, among which the “hidejo” stood out. This was a variety of squirrel, with elongated ears and chubbier and rounder cheeks. In addition, it was a marsupial that carried a small pouch in front of its belly, which it used to carry its babies or even to carry some of the seeds it collected during the day. At night, the stillness and silence of the forest was often interrupted by the sound of a few crickets that, when it rained, tuned their harmony with the croaking of an immense variety of toads; an appreciable phenomenon in the streams, which descended harmoniously from the summit of the Titan. A faint line of flickering lights, produced by the fireflies, was outlining the margin of the streams of crystalline water, where the shadows of the immense australos were reflected. Especially on full moon nights, when their opalescent light encouraged nocturnal beetles to spiral up into the sky, as if they were looking for their mother, who returned from time to time to greet them. The rainy periods were constant throughout the year, which marked nine months of spring with moderate rain and certain sunny days, making a clear weather forecast almost impossible. This generated abundant vegetation, and a certain humidity that encouraged the exuberance of amphibians and insects. In the remaining three months, the intensity of the rains decreased and strong

winds suddenly arrived, although the sky remained somewhat misty. It was during this time that plants and trees surprisingly shed their leaves by secreting a special honey in their stalks. The phenomenon especially attracted a great variety of birds, which, eager to take it, had to remove the leaves, producing a sort of forced autumn. This temporary behavior of the plants accelerated their growth and flowering; thus, with the onset of the rainy season, the spring returned in an incredible way. At the foot of an immense australo, where that forest began its dense greenery, Tiago was sitting on a pile of fallen leaves, while observing the city that was insistently agitated under the inclement sun. Concentrating and straining his mind to the limit, he closed his eyes: simultaneously with the tips of his fingers he rested his hands on his temples. He felt a feverish heat running through his body, and a feeling of frustration flooded him, while he thought, “I don't understand, this is a disgrace, my vision goes blank.” However, his effort was not so fruitless, since, at that moment, he ed that he had to return home at once, to accompany his father to run some errands in the greengrocers' quarter. At his sixteen years, he had already heard —on countless occasions— the unhappy story that had marked his country forever. A merciless drought had spread throughout the region, threatening to destroy everything; and when all hope was lost, suddenly, a mysterious sorcerer arrived in those days, offering to deliver them from the apocalyptic plague. However, once he did so, he did not receive the agreed payment and, as revenge for this betrayal, he decided to steal the dreams and ideas of its inhabitants. What they ed most about that day was that a strong wind was blowing, and a strange blue luminosity streaked through the skies. As he arrived, and agitated by the race, he saw his father watching him impatiently as he approached, “Tiago Jatiban, when are you going to be on time? Let's hurry, we're late.” Tiago just looked away, snorted and followed his father. The greengrocers' quarter stood out, its exclusive trade, with the sweet aroma of

fresh fruit that invaded the air, crossing from side to side the agitated pores of the ers-by, who rotated and integrated into the landscape. This one had multicolored facades and canvas awnings hanging gracefully over long shelves, with an endless variety of geometric shapes, textures, and flavors: sometimes acid, sometimes slight or intense. Tiago and his father approached, without haste, to one of those stores; where a very kind woman, with a voluminous and round belly, was sat and orally advertising, with energy and words of affection, the benefits of her products. “Good morning,” Tiago's father greeted. “How are you doing, my pretty ‘little gentleman’, how can I help you?” replied the saleswoman. While this was going on, Tiago watched with interest the monotonous and scarce variety of successive offers on the street; and sighing, he thought, “What kind of magic, so powerful, can stall the development of a nation?” As he said goodbye, the saleswoman took an apple and gave it to Tiago, “Young man, don't sigh so much, and better pray to God that a new stranger soon arrives.” That society had found an alternative formula to advance, and thus to compensate for the extirpated creativity; this was exploiting the invaluable resource brought by foreigners, who used to arrive with some new business or idea. Miracle that, in a few months, generated a feverish phenomenon, and impelled with uncontainable force the total transformation of the neighborhood; in such a way that, the name of this one, even was changed, making allusion to the trade that already all were practicing. This resulted in each neighborhood being limited to an exclusive activity; thus, some were dedicated only to shoemaking, others to clothing manufacturing, carpentry, mechanics and so on. It was said that the first trade that applied to this particular formula, foreign– dependent, was the elaboration of bread, so, for that reason this was the most

populated neighborhood; having it granted to all that region the honorary title of The Country of Bakeries; for honor and glory of its citizens; since it reflected the capacity of organization and coordination in the communitarian work of that society. Lethargic from fatigue and lying on his bed, Tiago thought —looking through the window, into the mystical darkness of that night— and ed, almost as usual: the scents, the colors and the people of that world in which he had landed that day. Something was different at that moment; a premonitory feeling was confused with the words of the saleswoman, which wandered through his head, without any direction, until he fell asleep. Above a large valley, he saw an immense expanse of fruit crops of all kinds, and in the middle stood a young man —wearing a straw hat— who shouted with pulmonary force, “It's harvest time!” In turn, a large group of people began to pick and place everything in huge baskets, which were on the ground. While Tiago, impressed, contemplated this bonanza, suddenly, a group of men lifted them up and, climbing a long and wide staircase, went to where was a large cauldron, into which they threw the entire harvest. Then, they took a large bag of sugar and added it; Tiago also could see spices, rocking spoons and bubbles that burst with the hot air emanated from the strange mixture that was being formed. Then, he felt a penetrating vibration in his spirit of discoverer and wanted to get closer to help in that novel process, but the heat emanated from the candle was such that Tiago couldn’t stand it any longer and woke up. From that night on, nothing was the same. What seemed inconceivable had happened. It was a spark that discharged courage without measure. It was an idea. Tiago tried to find a logical cause for all this; but no, it was impossible, at least for the moment. In any case, this incomparable experience had reached, with overflowing force, to the depths of his being. It was like a sensation that, indeed, intermingled freedom with joy, and enthusiasm to the limit with hope. A wave of creativity had been unleashed during the nights, when in those

incredible dreams he would discover new formulas, combinations and products. As it was the day when he visited the garment district and, he began to dream of machines that wove garments with candy threads of many colors; which were used to dress figures made of chocolate, which danced and played on a track of fabric very similar to silk. Likewise, when he went to the neighborhood of the bakeries, he dreamed that the wheat flour dough formed figures of famous people, and even little animals like rabbits, which were filled with honeys and sweets of various flavors. It was also spectacular when, in a placid dream, he observed how the wheels of the bicycles turned to the side ninety degrees, and became propellers that allowed them to fly. The neighborhood of the bicycle manufacturers —known as the “bicyclers”— as well as all the others inspired him. It was something that could really change the fate of that town forever. The mental aridity of the people of that nation made it impossible to emerge that spark that ignites a forest of inspiration, which takes the form of a magic wand, and turns the impossible into the possible. This generalized epidemic, in turn, produced many doubts in Tiago, “What will they think of me, he is crazy, a liar, he must have a pact with the evil sorcerer.” That tension pestered him and, at times, was completely unmanageable, “How do I explain it to my parents and friends?” No, of course it was not going to be necessary; because they would simply never find out. So, he decided to write down all the ideas that came from his dreams in a notebook, whose cover was lined with fine black leather. He went to the forest —where he always played at trying to create and dream— and then to an immense australo, which had been taken over by a small colony of hidejos that lived in one of its two main openings. In the other cavity, Tiago placed the prized booklet, which was in an old wooden box with a faint smell of wax, and he sat quietly thinking, “Truly, this is a great hiding place.” In this way, after two years, Tiago ended up filling it with an immense menu of dreams; which illuminated his eyes every time he reviewed them, seeking to

decipher the clues of that beautiful puzzle of creativity. In spite of this, the treasure was at greater risk than Tiago had imagined, since the sorcerer's objective had been to let the region be destroyed and sink into oblivion, little by little. Therefore, after so many years, his surprise was great when he learned that it had managed to survive at the expense of the unexpected and creative outsiders. Then, angry and indignant, he decided to return to finish what was left unfinished. The news flew like a sheet of paper in a tornado; word spread from door to door; anguished people came and went, commenting, arguing and, some of them, even shouting, “The sorcerer is coming back, this is the end!, how are we going to defend ourselves?” Tiago, who was with his father in the bakeries' neighborhood when they received the news, felt an inner cold that was rapidly gaining strength. His hands were immobile; his restless eyes flew as if searching for something around him and — in a sudden eruption of words— he exclaimed aloud, “My notes!” after which, without further explanation, he hurried off into the woods. When he got there, he hastily approached the tree, and thrust his arm into the hiding-place; he moved his hand about, as if it were a hungry animal in search of saving sustenance; he checked again and again, until, with horror, he discovered that the box was gone. He paused for a moment and thought, “if perhaps, it was the wrong tree or he may be dropped the book around there.” Turning around himself, he cast a glance trying to scan everything, and kept walking to continue his search elsewhere; but suddenly he heard behind him a singular voice. He stopped abruptly; he turned around slowly, while taking a breath, and astonished, he saw a group of hidejos approaching him. From among them, it came out one that seemed to be older than the rest, and looked at him for a while; at the same time, it carefully thrust its front paw into the pouch on his belly, to incredibly pull out his notebook. Calmly, the hidejo approached and handed it to him. Tiago was speechless, and he barely managed to connect some questions, when he noticed that the edge of the notebook projected a faint light. That being so, he decided to open it and saw that a message appeared, “Nature and the universe will always find a way to

keep emanating their strength, through the ideas and dreams of men, from which they feed to then continue to grow.” Immediately, a succession of images began to unfold, describing, as if it were a science fiction movie, the inspirations of the world. It was then, when the hidejo approached with a stern face and sentenced, “You have been chosen to be the guardian of this” “You can speak!” Tiago was perplexed, and finding no words, he chose better to listen, to look for answers. “Now, I see that we were not wrong the fatal night we hid you, so that you would not be handed over to the sorcerer,” continued the hidejo. There was a brief silence. Tiago opened his eyes, and his face showed a clear sign of disbelief. “Yes,” confirmed the hidejo, “You were the payment that the sorcerer was going to receive, because he wanted more than anything else an apprentice to inherit his powers. He chose you, because you were the strongest child born that day.” “Why is all this happening now?” Tiago demanded. “We had to keep silent until the day the wizard returned, when would be your time,” replied the hidejo with astonishing calm. “What should I do?” asked Tiago very thoughtfully. “The answer lies in what is contained in that booklet. You always looked for it, since you were a child, take care of it and use it to defeat the sorcerer,” then, the hidejos turned around and, jumping up and down, disappeared into the undergrowth, as if after the fall of a great curtain. For a moment, Tiago was immersed in his thoughts, trying to organize the package of surprises he had just received. Night had arrived like a hurried visitor, and an unusual wind for the time was beginning to whip through the grove. The pitiful sound of the branches banging against each other was confusing with distant screams of fright coming from the city.

Totally unaware of the time that had ed, Tiago had been contemplating the illuminated city from the tree that had accompanied him during his childhood; until he, following his instinct, bowed his head and stared at the booklet for a moment, and then he frowned and exclaimed, “I must do something!” He got up and went to the central square of the city, where there was great agitation and nervousness. On arriving there, he saw the sorcerer standing on the edge of a hotel terrace. His grotesque appearance resembled more of a blackish lump, in which it was difficult to trace accurately his non-humanoid features. He had taken out a large leather bag, and held near his mouth something similar to a golden horn, with which he blew, letting out a piercing and sharp sound; at the same time, with a harsh voice he sent out threats and curses, “May all creativity, may all ideas and dreams be swept away and expelled from this place!” At that moment, a strong wind began to blow, carrying an endless number of luminous and choppy threads, which, little by little, came out of the ingenious heads of the people, towards the mysterious leather bag that was at the feet of the sorcerer. Tiago, seeing this, suddenly ed the words revealed in the notebook, “Of course, the universe feeds on the ideas and dreams of men, to keep growing,” and then, he added, “perhaps, the whole universe will not fit in that bag.” At that moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder; it was his father, “Where were you? You had me worried sick!” Tiago stared at him and smiled nervously, “Dad, I know everything; I know what happened the day I was born.” His anguished father rushed to embrace him and said, “You are not to blame for this. I love you!” Tiago, with the same effusiveness, replied, “Thank you, I love you too Dad,” and looking him into the eyes, Tiago added, “I must do something to end this sorcerer forever. I can't explain it to you now, but you must trust me.” His father, sensing his son's mysterious fate, nodded with resignation.

At that instant, Tiago, squeezing his right hand, closed it. He took a brief breath and stared at the notebook that he had taken out of his pocket, and then he opened it with his left hand. Immediately, it rose to a great height and began to rotate, projecting a strong light that, similar to a huge blue wave, made the windows of the buildings vibrate. In the meantime, it moved towards the sorcerer, until it suddenly descended getting into the leather bag that began to expand without stopping. “This is too big!” the sorcerer, in turn, exclaimed in horror and, with a terrible scream, he disintegrated, producing at once an explosion of celestial soul, which flooded the whole valley. The sun began to show, once again, the secrets of that city; however, this time, it was revealing to its innermost depths. The warm color that the whole region had taken on reflected what happened in the hearts of those who lived there. In the midst of the din, and some casual smile thrown by a possible great love, their ruler thanked Tiago for having saved them, and asked him, “How shall we be able to repay you, for having delivered us from such a terrible menace?” Tiago, very calm, looked at all those present and, pointing to them with his right hand, he said, “Thank the dreams that are yours; nevertheless, I believe there is something you could do for me: I want you to let me be who I really am.” And so it was that, in that immense city, Tiago's business, which like one more cell in that beehive, was the only one that sold something different from the rest; that certainly inflated, like miraculous yeast, the adventurous dreams of the people; and for that reason they always looked for him, because he sold ideas, in The Country of Bakeries. END

THE MAN AND THE MISER

“H elp! Grr!” I want to be free, but I can't. My condition does not allow me. I am a dog, and I don't say that to reproach myself, no; I am a small golden animal, with fragile legs and swaying ears, with a narrow snout and ensiform fangs as big as a lentil grain. My terrible memory manages to retain only the most recent events, the last few days; however, there is something I never forget, it is a smell, the only one that survives and becomes a beautiful memory, the most sublime and welcoming: It is the owner of my illusions, a beautiful woman who welcomes me in her sweet lap without the slightest hesitation. Her kisses, caresses and patience have penetrated deep into my small being, so much so that I see her wherever I go. I coordinate my steps with hers and I try to live in her shadow. In my opinion, until recently, I did not need anything else to have a perfect life, because I always had a gentle hand on my back, a nap in the afternoon sun, the daily walk with its familiar smells and an exclusive piece of meat for me alone; but now I am suffering the consequences of the most bloody torture. Grr! Please, somebody help me! My torment is becoming insane. I must it that I did not expect it, since during the morning the relationship with my caregivers was perfect. I that bright sunbeams announcing, early in the morning, the time for my usual walk, the family with who I live was caressing me and I allowed it. Later, I growled at another dog, but it wasn't too serious, not enough to ruin this day. I finished as much food as they offered me, and I didn't stain the floor. My every action was in accordance with my protector's teachings; however, I made a mistake. Grr! Ah, fatal moment of distraction, how could I have been so careless? I dared to think that I could aspire to rule and cease to be ruled. Being a connoisseur of human weaknesses, phew, I ventured to ask for a last bite, which had to be special, like the delicate dessert of a royal banquet. Fatal mistake! I stood up on two legs, turned on them and leapt towards the table of humans who applauded and encouraged me to continue with such a feat. “Here you go!” I heard, and a generous hand extended me some yolk and bread.

It took them so long to offer me the delicacy but in two movements of my jaw I swallowed it completely. Immediately, I received another piece, with which I was equally delighted, but I must it that later something went wrong. For what I will say next, I don't want you to think that I am ungrateful, a dog that doesn't understand good treatment; I only ask you to let me clarify the cause of my suffering. Oh, what a pain. At that precise moment I was a victim of my weakness, since I decided to accept a third bite. Oh, my calculation was a disaster, as, I did not count on the irreconcilable force of my canine instinct that blocked my appetite, for my small stomach that was crying out for relief, and I was no longer willing to tolerate the infamous abuse. It was just a piece of bread, small and round, that I could save for the afternoon. It seemed harmless and enigmatic; so I decided to look for a hiding place, but where, where? Using my front paws I tried to dig everywhere, and only found misfortune: I couldn't bury it, I scraped the canvas of my cave, the sponge of my bed, the kitchen tile, the living room floorboard, but the bread looked the same: clear, obvious and vulnerable to any threat. I stared at the food that seemed to mock me, and anguish began to spread all over my face. As if that wasn't enough, the white, porous dough had grown before my senses. It was no longer just any crumb, as it had become a trophy, the recognition of my skills; and I was more and more convinced that I did not want to share it with anyone, with anyone. Grr! It still seems absurd to me to be denied the option of hiding a treasure, ha ha ha! My mistress is happy with her food safe in the fridge or tucked away in some corner of the house, like the chocolates she doesn't share with me; which, without anyone suspecting it, lie behind a shelf in the living room, so she rejoices and welcomes her visitors who take a seat in front of her small fortune. Why shouldn't I have the right to create a reserve, to increase my treasure and enjoy the tranquility. Oh!, that pain again. Uncertainty overflows my spirit, and rightly so. My suspicions are not unfounded, since the giant —my protector's partner— was watching me a few

minutes ago. His pupils said it all, Hungry! Yes, that's a bad counselor and even more so when the last morsel is yours. Help me! You, irresponsible and greedy! Because of your meanness you have driven me to take extreme measures. While they looked like monsters desperately swallowing the few stocks, I had the foresight to turn the leftovers into a treasure. Now, they want to take it away from me, you wicked! Especially the men who are envious of me, because they cannot compete with the astral nature that inspires my beauty, and the grace of my movements that harmonize perfectly with my small body. How little can they know about the power of tenderness, if they only ire the grotesque of violence and power? Ah!, the twinge that obstructs my vision has returned. My belly and head bother me, also some tick that resists to be found. At times, it is unbearable. I want to bite. Grr! And something prevents it for a while, until I calm down. Suddenly, someone picks me up and showers me with kisses and caresses. My heart begins to beat in confusion. What should I do? Attack treacherously and become a scoundrel or let myself be seduced by the soft pleasure of a caress? Little by little, the fury is left behind and a warm feeling takes over my sense of smell. Finally, I the care I received: security and affection are the valerian of my indignation. But before I know it, I'm back on the ground again, so much tension! Again, the betrayal. I am more and more nervous, and I feel that I am going mad, although I believe that my greed is greater, because it is impossible for me to share with those who feed me. I have come to a terrible crossroads —what to choose?, to starve and give up the heavenly crumb or to face betrayal and fight?—Fight, yes, to the death, but with honor. Space shrinks, the wall shows its icy fist ready to crush me; then, I rage and writhe in the foam of my vengeance. I have no notion of that which men know as time, I don't care anyway, because everything has come to a standstill. Only a colossal foot prevails and treses my territory, igniting the organic alarms that activate and push my eyes to hate.

Then, I scream so loudly that I seem more like an old trumpet than an uncontainable beast. In the face of shame I resort to the deplorable, and shake my fangs at those who were my allies. I feel myself transforming; my body becomes confused with the irregular surface of the mud. My anguish and suffering are an avalanche that covers me completely. I try to breathe, but a thick layer of sediments prevents me from doing so. Hope is exhausted, and my body continues to strain even more. I try to see, but I can't; I only look and find threats looming over my piece of bread and my love. Now that I am immobile I lose hope that someone will save me, I feel that even my fur has petrified and decomposed; my strength abandons me; I don't want to suffer another second. How much impotence, I am pure instinct, and that claims my right to fight, to keep on living. Do I grunt? Yes, that will make me feel better, grr! I am determined to die fighting. I hear the ringing of the same questions, why, how, when?, but there is no answer and no time to find it. I only know that my guts, again and again, repeat it to me: distrust, distrust, because you live in a minefield of closed doors and trembling objects. Suddenly, one voice. The giant calls me. It's that big miser, worthy representative of man's arrogance. Surely he wants to strip me of the only true thing I still have, because his contempt, which transcends matter, has become a moth of my spirit. So I will not go, I refuse to obey, and I keep still. I feel someone lurking, so, without hesitation, I charge in, trying to bite and smash at will. I think that, at last, the time has come for battle. At first I am consumed by an insane pleasure that elevates me to the throne of the dominant; however, little by little, it turns into an intense burning of the body. The gentle hands lift me up again, and a discharge of soothing magic kicks in just as before. Its power allows me to regain consciousness for a moment, and I think, “How reprehensible was my attitude a few seconds ago”, then, I cry and let out a whimper. Could it be that I must cry to appease my despair? Could it be that I am crazy or could it be that I am a miser? Maybe both. On the ground I am vulnerable as Castor and in arms I become the immortal Pollux. Here I go again, back to earth, where there is no sanity. Oh! Sure, I didn't realize

that someone hurt me; I must retreat for a moment and regain energy. The war will have to wait, since I think I am losing my senses, and I begin to long for the smell of fresh grass and my comrades in the park. The voice rings a second time. No, I will not go. I must be adamant like a mythological rebel; however, I tremble and I cannot avoid it because I am alone. I remain static for a moment, thinking that it could be another reason, like the afternoon walk. Of course! I almost forgot. It's time, maybe they already understood that I am willing to defend what belongs to me. Will the price I have to pay be too high? I contemplate the crumb, wich I love and hate at the same time. It has trapped and enslaved me, and that angers me. Therefore, I think I am going to kill her, and thus, forever she will be mine. Treacherous and deceitful; she has ruined my greatness as a dog. Grr! She won’t escape; I am going to swallow it without remorse. At the same time, I’m called for the third time and I understand: It is the white flag. There is no doubt: Victory; now I will have to forgive to receive the tributes of the defeated one. Thus, I go exhausted and I cover myself with the tenderness of my minuscule footprints; but, soon after, I understand that it is a vile trick, because I only receive a couple of caresses. And, immediately, when seeing that I am mocked, I start to return to my hiding place and I find nothing, everything is over. Grr! My head down searchs for clues and culprits of the perfidious robbery, until I meet the loving gaze of my protector, who embraces me. Then, I want to cry again, I see everything clear. She is happy because she has eaten my delicacy, my sweet love. What a vileness! I have been robbed of the right to kill my beloved, and I have not been able to free myself from this dreadful suffering. Maybe tomorrow I'll be luckier, with my new love. END

THE FOREIGN STEVEDORE

Thick drops of water slid over the threatening edge of the axe, which, at the king's command, the executioner had left leaning against the edge of a grimy log. The night seemed to have frozen over, and as a multitude of dreadful clouds roared away and sent a torrential downpour several miles from that spot, near the dark ground, it laid the bruised body of a boy with magnetic eyes as large and black as the water of a bottomless lagoon. His bewildered expression searched for answers, and turned desperately towards the eyes of the sovereign who stood energetically before him. “All right,” said the monarch, as he thoughtfully took his chin, “Prepare him for execution.” Two soldiers approached the young prisoner and lifted him carelessly; they took him by the back of the neck and pushed him towards a large stone that reached up to their waists. Then, the ruler addressed the public that was crowded to witness this “spectacle.” “This punishment goes to anyone who dares to endanger my family: like this foreigner, who has been found guilty of murdering my daughter, Princess Anne.” At these words the crowd began to cry out for justice, “Cut off his head, glory to our king!” Without waiting, one of the guards delivered a furious blow to the prisoner's abdomen, making him bend and fall to his knees; then they took his head and, with caution, placed it on the stone as one does with a fruit that can be rolled. Suddenly, the prisoner was heard to implore, “Please, your highness! Let me speak and explain that I carried out your orders to the full. Perhaps, because I am a longshoreman, don't I deserve the right to defend myself?” There was absolute silence among the authorities and a roll of drums began. “Oh, great sir,” continued the young man, “I beg your pardon! but I could not betray the promise I had one day made to you, to save your daughter.”

The executioner took the axe and lifted it carefully, as if to check its balance, and he took up his position for the execution; however, the stevedore continued his defense with haste. “Some are those who bite the grass, and others, the traitors, are those who take the flowers; if there is a traitor here it is the captain who espoused your daughter; but, not me your honor.” The sound of the drums ceased and the sentenced man closed his eyes expecting the worst. Time seemed like a snail hiding in its shell for not letting the outcome be seen. However, there was no blow or fright, only a portion of mud that hit the face of the boy, who decided to slowly open one eye to understand what had happened. The edge of the blade had stopped just a few centimeters from his neck, since suddenly the monarch, with his raised hand, had ordered to stop the execution. “Listen to me well, stranger,” said then the sovereign, “For having rescued my daughter from the ruins of the earthquake before in a short time, I will grant you the opportunity to defend yourself from there, under the axe. You may speak; your time is running out.” The boy tried to straighten up; however, a hand stopped him and pushed him to stay in the same position, then he understood that he would have a trial, but under the imminent stalking of death itself. Immediately, he tilted his head on the stone, and with pulmonary force began to shout, “I am innocent! You must know that in the country where I come from, all trades have the same value; and the hierarchy is earned by study, the improvement of techniques and the faithful use of those merits to help noble and important causes. For that reason, a few weeks ago, I arrived in this region, trying to find an opportunity that would allow me to earn the recognition of my people as a great stevedore. So, I rescued Princess Anne. Is that a crime? ” The captain, husband of the princess, who was standing nearby, felt indignant and offended with what was happening before his eyes, so he addressed the monarch. “Your highness, I request that you allow me to defend my honor and that of your daughter Ana, who was also my beloved wife, from lies of this stranger.”

The ruler looked at the petitioner like a hunter, and nodded slowly, giving way to the new actor of this improvised trial. “Listen well,” the official continued, addressing the audience, “This man is the murderer of Ana, my wife; because he tried to kidnap her, and in his mistake he let her fall from the top of a tower. Her body has been lost, but we all know that the proof of this crime is the rope that was found, which belonged to this criminal, since his name was engraved on it.” The prisoner burst out laughing, and immediately replied, “I prefer not to waste my time on the absurd, so I will continue with the truth. Ah, I so far that day, the day of that devastating earthquake, in which few buildings were left standing. When the king was in despair, I offered to rescue the princess; but this acc viewed me with suspicion because he coveted the crown, and not the sweet love of a woman filled with qualities.” The young man took a deep breath, trying to settle himself better on the rock, and he continued somewhat hoarsely, “Your eminence explained to us that his daughter had been imprisoned under the rubble of the summer castle tower; moreover, as he had been informed by a messenger pigeon, the few survivors were wounded and the road was blocked, due to a bridge that had collapsed, so we had to look for another way.” “Yes, I ,” the officer sharply interrupted, “Wasn't it at that moment when you rejected his majesty's help; when he offered you a horse, a shield and a sword to the rescue party?” “You speak wrongly to suggest the absurd. I so clearly, I gave my word to his eminence that I would bring back his daughter in four hours. Time was pressing and I had to optimize my knowledge, that is, to use my best weapon, which is my rope.” “Ha, ha, ha, ha,” laughed the acc in unison with several of those present and then took the floor. “Listen well, liar; no one believes what you say, because we all know that you used your dirty magic to get there before the rest and get the princess out of the ruins.” The young man tried to take a deep breath, but his mouth felt dry, and he

struggled to move his knees a little. Several distant lightning bolts flashed, and the clouds blocked any hope of light. “You're wrong again like a fool,” replied the prisoner. “When it comes to rescue, the rope can be the most powerful weapon. I was able to get there first because, according to the circumstances, I used my best qualities. I did not want to offend your highness by refusing what he offered me; but to climb a rock you don't need a horse nor to move a rock you need a sword. Yes, it is true that I have a superior agility to yours and my rope is magic, but I want to make it clear that the captain didn’t use what he needed, but what his pride dictated.” “Stranger, if your motives were noble as you say, why, a few months later, did you try to kidnap my Ana who was already living in my castle? It is clear that you are the traitor, because you were only interested in the crown; when you saw that the king, despite the fact that you had rescued his daughter from the ruins, denied you the hand of the princess and gave her to me, you did not hesitate to take her out of my castle because you had no other choice, since I am the son of an important family, a nobleman who could offer her security and comfort, because here, being a stevedore means nothing.” “Sorry for not speaking faster, but the wet stone has frozen my jaw a bit,” the prisoner continued indifferently with his explanation, “As I was saying, to rescue the princess, I crossed the ravines and forests with the speed of a hurricane and climbed great crags as if they were a speed track. My rope rose and twisted wherever I directed it, it seemed that there was nothing to prevent me from advancing; so, after an hour I entered the castle and without stopping I walked to the tower. Removing the stones didn’t give me too much work either; since, although it may seem strange to you, it was enough to tie my rope to any rock and it lost its weight completely, thus turning the removal of debris into something similar to a fluttering of fragile balloons.” “Stranger,” interjected the captain, “Why are you explaining to us the fulfillment of your mission? If that doesn't justify what you did some time later, when you broke into my castle and took my wife.” “Yes, it is important, because it attests to my determination to accomplish the task entrusted to me by your highness. As soon as I rescued the princess, she told me her unhappy story, what had led her to take refuge in that tower of the summer castle. She told me that she did not wish to marry the captain, because

she did not love him, because he was a bad man and a life of suffering awaited her with him; however, she could not tell me more, since at that moment her eminence arrived with the soldiers.” “This is the height of insolence!” exclaimed the interpellant, “Besides, you behave like a coward, since you speak ill of my wife and her noble heart. Oh, great regent, I think enough has been said. Give the order for this criminal to be executed.” “The prisoner has a few last words left,” said the king very coldly. At that moment the executioner took the heavy axe and lifted it to rest on his shoulder, as he stood beside the prisoner. Then the stranger took a couple of deep breaths and continued, “After that day the princess got married and in spite of what she confessed to me, I set out to return to my home, thinking that my task was finished; until on the way a peasant told me that your majesty, after having repaired the summer castle, had given it to the bride and groom as a wedding present, as that place had always had a special value for Princess Anne; however, as soon as it was occupied by the couple, the jealous captain, without hesitation, decided to lock his wife in the same tower where she had been trapped after the earthquake.” “That's a lie, a damned lie!” exclaimed the soldier shaking his tense fists; nevertheless, he immediately tried to calm down, thinking that the treacherous man would soon be dead. The roll of drums was heard again and there was a faint murmur among the attendees, since few seemed to be convinced of the condemnation. The executioner held the axe firmly back and waited for the signal. “Just a few last words,” said the accused, “I want to make it clear that in my country there is a group of judges responsible for ing the complete fulfillment of the mission entrusted to one, that is to say, the veracity of the facts one tells; otherwise, recognition is denied to the applicant as a worthy representative of his trade; in my case, my tradition would be denied to me and I would be stripped of my trade as a stevedore.” The static sovereign did not give the order, letting the boy continue after a brief

pause. “How could I break the promise I had made to your eminence?” The boy continued in a louder and more energetic tone, “I had promised to rescue your daughter from death in that tower, a short death caused by an earthquake, after which she would be ed, for leaving behind her a happy life; and then, oh, disaster! In the same ill-fated tower her husband was condemning her to a worse death, where she would be extinguished in oblivion, after a long torture of confinement. Which is worse, to die being rescued by your Father or to be delivered by him to the hyena's den?” The officer's face lit up like a torch in the fury of the moment, it seemed that his gaze, as if it were that of a vampire thirsty for revenge, would never withdraw from the neck of his victim. And so, unable to stand it any longer, he burst out furiously, “Liar, if you didn't kill her, then where is she?” “No, I won't tell you, because you would lock her up in that tower again.” That sentence aroused such a lack of control in the interpellant that he threw away all calculation and prudence, so that he rushed into a furious revelation, “You wretch! Yes, it is true that I locked her in the castle tower, but with the sole purpose of protecting her from perverts like you. Now, everyone can see that I was right, because with me she would still be alive.” Those words seemed like an echo that stole the breath of the whole town, which had fallen silent to the point of letting hear the mud shuddering beneath their feet. The condemned man, already resigned to the worst, summoned up the strength for one last sentence, “What an injustice! However, I will be ed by my people, because I fulfilled my mission. My family will inherit a noble profession, for I am a stevedore by vocation, I bind and lift, but not so much, I solve and help, what a great profession.” There, the boy stood with his eyes open, looking at what his memories, his family and his dreams showed him, as if that offered him a refuge from fatality. A few seconds were enough, and the axe fell. The audience held its breath and remained in a deep silence that seemed to

become eternal; until the moment when a strong agitation began to take possession of the place, when observing that the weapon had hit the ground and had not carried out its task. For an instant, no one seemed to understand what had happened, until two soldiers lifted the prisoner who was still alive. Then the Ruler rose from his chair and said, “Bring this brave man to me,” while he looked at the boy with gratitude. The captain was paralyzed, and had no reaction whatsoever to what had happened, as he could only look the unbelievable event. “I must thank you, noble stranger,” the king continued, “Because, with your humble profession you have done more for my family than my whole army; go in peace, and forgive me for what happened, as I had to take this to the last moment, to check who was telling the truth. Then, he returned to see his son-in-law with his eyes sharp as a razor and sentenced, “Arrest him! because, though he did not know it, this was also his trial.” “Mercy your majesty, I am not guilty!” pleaded the desperate officer, “Do you believe in a criminal more than a man you trust? Where is the proof of his innocence?” “Captain, your word, as a relative, would have been important to me and would have weighed more than that of a foreign stevedore, if it weren’t for one piece of evidence. And now, I am going to reveal before everybody this masquerade, which was devised on the very evening of the kidnapping, because my daughter is not dead and, to tell the truth, she is safe in my palace.” At that moment, after a crossing of glances, the monarch gave a clear answer to the questions that the prisoner had been raising in despair: it was the very cause of that terrible moment that had served to evidence the crime committed by the high officer, by confining Princess Anne to seclusion and extinction. The captain paled as if he had been left without a soul, and with fright he staggered, while almost silently he repeated what the king said, in an attempt to understand his stupidity, “The stranger did manage to get the princess out alive;

but then, faithful to his oath, he handed her over to me and reminded me that his promise was to save my daughter from death in that tower.”

END

Ithank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, I ask you to take a moment to leave your comment and rating in the store where you purchased it. Thank you! Juan Pablo Benítez https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100012346383002 https://twitter.com/juanpabenitezes

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Did you love Three Short Stories? Then you should read Twenty by Thirty by Juan Pablo Benítez!

In the middle of a city there is a mysterious park, from where the solutions to your financial problems could emerge; but be careful, discovering it could imply great challenges and responsibilities. In that place, an enterprising girl will suddenly meet a strange character, who will offer her an adventure like she could never have imagined. This great challenge will lead her to make decisions, and to seek the help of her sister and her best friend. Fortune and luck will cease to be a necessity and will become a way of learning that will go beyond the implausible, to become an experience in which human wisdom and weaknesses can be observed.