CH1 - PastA Chapter by Fernando Dardón A chapter that describes the relationship between the main character, Gabriel, and his father. I did not realize, I did not realize what was
really happening. Everything seemed like a dream that became real. But it is
hard when we awake from our fantasies and even more when that fantasy actually
happened. It feels like the limbo, I wish I had stayed in it. Some dreams are so real that can be confused
with the actual reality. As when newly awakened and called into question if
what you just dreamed was actually a dream or a past experience. Chapter 1 - Past --------------------- 1 -------------------------- - Look, look at that beautiful butterfly! Is
a monarch butterfly. - I told my dad that time, of many, we were in the huge
garden of my grandmother's house. My dad's family was not the wealthiest in the
world, but did received a good inheritance from my father's parents, I mean my
grandparents Suramee and Stuard. And among those assets was that huge two-story
house, with six bedrooms, two bathrooms, two living rooms, and incredible old
kitchen but very well preserved. And what child considered the most important
and fun of all, the half size football field garden. - Predy, predy! Can I? touchi? - I responded
with my speaking difficulty. Difficulty that was very unusual at the age of
four. Some say that men, if they learn to speak fast, they don't learn to walk
so fast, and if they learn to walk fast they don’t do the same with speaking.
Maybe that's why I could not speak too well, but it's amazing how I can
remember things from my childhood so clearly, I guess God endowed me with good
memory and I'm very grateful to that, but sometimes is not the world's most
pleasant gift. But I enjoy and have always enjoyed the good times of my life. -No, you better not touch it. Let it fly
free. Just admire her beauty and marvel at the wonderful things of this world
my love. I liked the tone of his voice, a very friendly
yet persuasive. He was the most pleasant person and the friendliest I ever met,
and the number of his enemies can be barely counted with the fingers of one
hand because of his charisma. Anyway, my mom was very lucky to marry a man of
his stature, a man who is almost not found in these times. And I would not be
exaggerating if I say that it is easier to find a needle in a haystack. - Como daddy como! - I moved my hands,
gesturing him to follow me, and started running toward the big apple tree that
was in the center of the garden. I sat on a wooden board, attached to its ends
by ropes hanging from a tree branch. - swi, swi-ing! - And as I could, I began to
rock with my little feet. My dad caught me and began pushing ahead. After a
while, I shouted: - Going to jump! My dad just fell a few feet and prepared to
catch me, I let go of the swing and flew through the air to fall into his arms.
A spectacular maneuver, one that my mom never liked. That's why we always did
that when she was not at home. His smile was my worship, it graced my life
and gave me happiness. We spent so many times together, laughing and sharing so
many moments, my father was my best friend. But now, standing in front of a tombstone
letting roses above it is very difficult, especially when the departure of that
person still hurts. It's been ten years, but there is something in me that
still does not understand that he is dead, my dear father. "Here lies the man whose enemies were
counted with the fingers of your hand - June 3, 2042" That's what the
epitaph says. It may not be a very creative one, but it is something that
identified him so much. The last time I talked to him was at
his house, the same big house where I spent my childhood years. We were
watching the sunset, each one sitting in a rocking chair near the pool. - How many sunsets we have seen son?- he
said with a strange looking on his face. His eyes reflected something but could
not figure out what they were trying to say. -I do not know dad, I always had the habit of
doing this since I have ten years. Although I remember that there were three
hundred days since that moment, until I stopped counting when I was fifteen. -Too bad you did not take count, I would have
been interested to know how big that number was up to today. - He sighed, as
for relief from something and continued. - I have something to show you son.
Come, join me-.he said, and stood up from his seat. We entered through the back door of the house
and crossed the hallway leading to the laundry but turned to the right before
getting there. Then we climbed the stairs to the second level and headed
straight to the attic. Its shape was a bit strange, as the roof of
the house was an old architecture of early century, one of two waters. We only
used one of those rooms, the other was a bedroom for visits. If it wasn't
because of my grandmother, this place would be a mess and my grandfather was
not the most organized person in this world. My dad told me that every day he
had to deal with the protests of my grandmother, who asked him to pick up his
clothes, after bathing. Are ends bad? Really, I'm not sure, because the strong
character of my grandmother seemed to give stability to things in the family
rather than to destabilize them. There was a large and sturdy colonial style
wardrobe beside one of the vertical walls. I always told my grandmother to put
it in the living room, because it seemed to me an excellent and eccentric
ornament, but my grandmother did not think so. The good thing was that the dry
environment of the room kept it in good condition, no moisture that could rot
the wood in that room. - Come! - Said impatiently- help me move
these boxes, because they are very heavy. We both lift a heavy box measuring
approximately one meter wide, I had no idea what could contain inside. Then we
pull the archive that was holding the box we just moved and opened one of its
drawers. There was dust everywhere, even the room was considerately clean. It
was that box, it had so long in that place that gathered dust where it couldn’t
be cleaned easily. My dad dug from the carefully arranged
objects in that drawer and pulled out a blue velvet bag. It was strange the
extreme care had to take out the object that kept that bag, a notebook made of
recycled paper. I think and think, several times I think how is it could exist
a man like my father? - I have this notebook before I entered the university. It
is very special to me, not so much for being something material but because
what is written in it - More mysterious words from my father. -At first it was just a kind of game, but as
I got older and began being serious about it - his words did not stop ringing unknown
in my ears, what he meant by "game" and "serious"? -These are my dreams, all since I have
memory, or at least since I have the ability to write a simple story. One day
it occurred to me to write what I dreamed, it seemed nice and entertaining. I
started pointing them in small pieces of paper, but later transcribed them to this
booklet. They have something unique, I don’t know what it is, I never knew. I
thought, that maybe you could understand what I was dreaming, but this is just
a hunch- this intrigued me a bit. Who would write his dreams for so many years
in a row? What discipline to remember to point out everything! -Of course, I didn’t wrote out all the dreams
I had in my life, otherwise this book would be looking like an antique paper
made encyclopedia. I just wrote the most important. And also they didn’t use to
happen regularly. However, this is not the only one. My father took some items
from the drawer, before taking another four notebooks, also wrapped in blue
velvet bags. Did the color and fabric meant something too, or was pure
aesthetics? - Why do you give me this? -. I answered. - I do so, because I think there's something
more than just stories. These stories are too real to be just dreams. - Okay father, you never know, you're right.-
I said and took the booklets firmly with both hands. --------------------- 2 -------------------------- That night the booklets went right to the drawer
of my bedside table, there I keep all the things I need to be on hand. But this
afternoon I have one of them here with me, just as your last will said, "But
I need you to do me a favor, open it only when you visit my grave a second
time." The first time I visited his grave was when
he died, of course. But it was strange, because there have been thirteen times
I come here. It was until this morning, I found the book in the same drawer
where I kept it for thirteen years. It was there since I bought my house. I
picked up some envelopes I needed for my work and that peculiar velvet bag
appeared. I think that what he meant was the moment when I take this booklet in
my hands for the second time. I had those notebooks in my hands the day of his funeral,
as if it was something from him that was still alive, that’s why I embraced
them. "You’ll take nothing child, anything, no
matter how much you want. That's why, I tell you, if it is a material object
leave it to someone else who needs it more than you because that gratitude and
good will is what you'll take to the sky and offer to God." That was the
last thing he told me that afternoon. The tomb was on par with an immense and
ancient cedar, not in vane "The Cedars" was the name of the cemetery.
I was sitting at the base of the tree, watching the cold afternoon. Climate
change was drastic that evening, being in the middle of summer, it wasn’t
common to use a sweatshirt. But the instability of the atmosphere in the
industrialized areas of the planet significantly affected the atmosphere of the
country, although it is one of the few where it still is almost pure. I opened the booklet, after having accommodate well between two roots coming out of the
ground. I flipped through a few pages to dwell on one titled "The Dawn": Today I woke up and the sun shone strongly through the window, but it was
nothing like the sunshine in my dream. All started as now, awakening. I did the
usual, put on my sandals, go to the kitchen with a slow walking for a drink of
water and then to take a shower. When I got to the kitchen, I turned on the television to watch the news,
which were already beginning when the room was barely visible. Suddenly I
noticed that the sun was rising too fast. I went to the window and put aside the
curtain with my hand, watching the horizon. The moon already hide out, well,
what was left of it. Then it could be moons brightness. It had to be something
else. Just then, began a newsflash, today Revolutionary Union announced that, in
protest at the lack of that precious liquid that has become fundamental the
last few years, will throw nuclear bombs in random locations. The military and
intelligence from many countries and the United Nations had already begun to
take action on the matter, but so far hadn't tracked any base or headquarter, they
were somehow protected from radars, satellites and any technology capable of
tracking. That did not bother me so much, such a small country in which I live couldn't
be the center of attention. Although the current government was concerned about
the broad water sources that the country had, as it were exhausted or seen in
conflict distributors in other countries, the conflict also would start here. I turned on the computer to check my email, looking don't know what. The
scoreboard lit up immediately and through a voice command I indicated to show
me the inbox. Then there was a glimmer that snuck its light through the
curtains and the computer suddenly went off. I tried pressing the power button,
but the machine did not respond, so I had to disarm its protective cover and
lift the motherboard circuit to check the battery and had absolutely nothing
wrong. I turned to look around at the kitchen and noticed that the
refrigerator, microwave oven and touch screen controlling various functions of
the house also were off. I thought maybe the power of the house was cut off somehow, and in order
to prove my theory tried to manually turn on the room lights, but these ones
did turn on. What happened then? I returned to my room for my phone, but when I
held it in my hands also was off. It seemed that all electronics in the house were, somehow, completely
off. Although its energy sources work perfectly well. I went back to the window, trying to find answers to what I saw and the
flashes continued, becoming more intense. With the passing of the minutes, a
very loud alarm filled the air, it was the national security alarm and that
meant that something was wrong or was about to happen, something really bad. The thunderous detonations did vibrate the window glass and crystal
ornaments placed on furniture beside me fell, shattering into hundreds of
fragments. Everything turned completely red and on the background I could see how
a column of smoke, mushroom-shaped, rose. Then a white light filled the whole
sky, blinding my eyes. Instinctively, I put my hands on the glass, it was warm and beginning to
get hot so I ran immediately to the door under the stairs leading to the
basement interior. When I stood in front of it, the damn electronic lock wasn't
triggering, I felt like the atmosphere gradually felt warmer. I started kicking
the lock with all the strength I could and it opened just in time. The door
opened noisily and I fell rolling down the stairs, because of the strength and
momentum that my kick carried out. I stopped immediately, fire or whatever it
had been already felt in my back, I opened the side door and slammed it. The story suddenly ended, as if it simply any
detail could no longer be remember. I closed the book and enjoy the scenery a
few seconds, a combination of cedars, graves and all kinds of flowers. The
horizon began to blur, limited by the borders of the city, with a dome that
kept open during the day and got itself expanded during the night under to
cover it all. It was time to go home. I got up and walked to the headstone, which
was about two feet away from me, and being in front of it I knelt down. " I have to leave father, I'll come back next
week, if my work allows me. Otherwise, I might be here next month. I hope you
do not mind that" I said, patting on the tombstone, as if such action would be
in his back." But first, I wanted to show you something" .Continued. I took out from my pocket a small aluminum
box and opened it. "Look, what I have here. And when opening the box again I appreciated
its content. "This is a butterfly a week ago came to the
garden of the house to give his last breath. My mother was the one who found it.
Don't you think that's Wonderful!? Monarch butterflies are endangered, and this
one came to die to your garden. "Yeah right, as if he was going to
answer" I got up and saying goodbye to my dad with my hand went down the
hill at a moderate pace, walking along the path made of flat and long rocks. I got
to my air mobile and got in, found that everything was in order and put my
phone on the passenger seat and the aluminum box in the trunk of the board and
started the vehicle. As the vehicle levitated from, I activated the
lifting thrusters, but a message on the display board didn't let me take
flight. "No sky-driving allowed" was the
message, I had forgotten that within buildings or facilities was not allowed to
fly, at least in most places. I had to go along the streets of the cemetery, till
reaching the exit. The cemetery was built at the end of the old
route forty-seven, leading to the west of the city. Several minutes of travel,
since that route was extensive. Anyway, I had to keep an ongoing land because
the car battery was low, at least long enough for the highway solar panels
recharged my vehicle. As traveled along the highway, I watched the
corn crops and some other grains that were planted at the ends. The greenish brown of the plants ready
to harvest covered the ground, almost to the horizon. It was amazing to think
that so many crop apples served only to few thousand tanks of bio-fuel. When I turned to the other end, I saw a
police patrol. It seemed that they had arrested some grain traffickers. I could
see their two transport vehicles hidden under blankets. OmniFuel was a
multinational company dedicated to the production of high power bio-fuels,
which were used in various applications. Between them its usage on spacecrafts
and spaceships. Practices were also used in military and scientific
experiments. The low cost and high efficiency developed in recent decades was a
appealing niche for its marketing, but the exploitation of the soil by using
these grains for the production of such fuel has brought global problems. As a
kid, my father told me that these traffickers steal entire crops to then
distribute them as food rather material for fuel production. Regretting not being able to do anything
about it, I accelerated to till leaving behind the scene of injustice. Minutes
later, the battery meter indicated a seventy-five percent of charge, enough to
take flight. I activated the thrusters and quickly moved up into the sky, now I
could go home faster. Crossing the aerial streets, drawn by sensors
located throughout the tall slender buildings in the city, I could see the
cathedral. They were finishing their last touches of restoration and it looked
amazing. My father told me that in that church my grandparents got married and
he did too. He also told me that the church was highly demanded, it was a historical
landmark and an icon for the city. Then I flew over central park, crossing a
huge artificial lake and went down to start looking the street leading to my
home. When, at the end of the street, I saw the entrance of the house, I lowered
the speed, I was getting home soon. The vehicle approached to the gate, and as
I was close enough the automatic parking mode got the aerial mobile moving
inside the garage of the house. I took my bag and the bag where I had my
father's notebooks, got out of the car and, and before entering the house, I
pressed a button on my watch and the ground under the car opened, hiding it in
an underground chamber. When the door opened, I heard the sound of
the TV, the lights were off. I took off my coat and hung it on the rack in the
lobby. Then I stood in front of the electronic board of the house and a light
scanner passed over me. "Identity confirmed: Gabriel Dargo." - Has arrived!! Has arrived, the one who will
give me a kiss, serve a cup of coffee and then make dinner!!". Said Genee as
soon as she heard that the master computer in the house, with its robotic
female voice, confirmed my identity. -Yes of course, but you'll have to wait till
I upload some files to the network first, I said from the lobby and started
walking towards the room, where she was. The cozy warmth of firelight felt throughout
the room and lit with a warm glow the edges of the furniture. In a corner of
the sofa was my wife with a blanket over his legs and with a good reason,
indeed it was cold out there. - And how is my favorite designer? - I said,
after giving her a kiss on the forehead and stroked her hair. -Well, not very well, my legs hurt. It's
probably the cold. That's why you see me sheltered. Did you go to see your
father right? You came later today, it is more than seven o'clock. - Said - Yes, I'm sorry my love, I had to see him.
Also, did you know that today I read one of the stories of his notebooks? - - Really? I thought you'd forgotten those
things. Anything interesting you can tell me? - Answered a little
sarcastically, seemed like she was a little cranky. Well, it talked about one ordinary morning- - Oh, Really, and what else happened? -
Continued, still sarcastic. - Well, after narrated a kind of explosion,
and he could see everything. It was a dream darling, or so it seemed. What's
wrong? I noticed you a little abusive". I said -Ah ... sorry, I just ... ". but I shut her voice
my finger on her lips.
- Shh, shh, shh! Okay, do not worry. Surely
it was a tough day for you. Stay here, I'll bring your coffee and cook dinner
right away. - And left my wife comfortable on the couch where she was and went
to the kitchen. Now the problem was, I had no idea what to cook. © 2013 Fernando DardónAuthor's Note
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Added on March 23, 2013Last Updated on August 15, 2013 Author
Fernando DardónGuatemala City, Guatemala, GuatemalaAboutI'm an engeneering student who likes "non-engeneering stuff". That's why none of the people I am with undestands me. I've allways been very curious about things (the reason why I'm studing engeneering.. more..Writing
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