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Bachillerato de Bellas Artes U.N.L.P.

 

   

STORIES OF YOUNG PEOPLE

English Project: Class e-book of short stories, written by my 3rd year English

students

2014

Teacher: María Cecilia Carattoli

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you, my dear 3rd year students, for your effort and creativity in

writing these stories. Thank you again, for helping me become a better teacher every day.

You are my best teachers.

AGRADECIMIENTOS

Gracias, mis queridos alumnos de 3er año, por su esfuerzo y creatividad al escribir estas historias.

Gracias de nuevo, por ayudarme a ser una mejor profesora cada día. Ustedes son mis mejores maestros.

                 

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Contents  Sugar Skulls ………………………………….…………………………..Page 4 Written by Nicolás Romagnoli, Franco Villoldo, Jano Morales Lopez and Valentino Petrecco. Illustrated by Nicolás and Franco.Technique: tempera Tale of Revenge ………………………….…………………….………..Page 8 Written by Dante Villegas, Malena Abait, Wayra Ramirez, Alexis Torales Vega,Matías Cherry and Lino Salamanca Palmioli. It’s Just a Dream………………………………...………………………Page 11 Written by Valentina Perdoni The Unexpected Disappearance….……….………………..……….Page 13 Written by Azul Suarez, Diana Gomez Ramos, Indira Reeynoso, Sofía Cabrera and M. Victoria Lovera Fallen in Combat …………………….……..……………..……………Page 14 Written by Homero Glorioso Ceretti and Manuel Rojas        

         

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Sugar Skulls  My four grandparents are buried in the same cemetery. To be more precise, in the same grave, one above another. That's why on Day of the Dead we have a large family gathering to visit the grave of our ancestors, but also take time out to engage in recreational activities. He agreed that in November last year, I received a suggestion from a friend to go at that time to an old hacienda is now Morelos hotel. He was the manager and he assured me that my whole family would go nicely as fun, rest and good food in the region were secured. We arrived in the evening to the property which had extensive pools, play areas and gardens that strangely looked deserted. No employee came out to meet us until an elderly woman who greeted us appeared. It was identified as the smiling housekeeper told us that the facility would be for our use only because there were more guests. Immediately we settled in our rooms, which were in what was the largest house of the Hacienda Beltran. Later, Mrs. touched door to door to notify that dinner was served, so we made an appointment in the rustic dining room, where we taste a rich and fresh jerky Yecapixtla Tlacoyos bean fillings. After dinner, the lady invited us out to the garden to light a campfire and when we were all around the pyre, they related the story of the old Porfirian Morelos haciendas, many of them, as we were, it specializing in the production of sugar. Just when I commented that the state had about 40 sugar estates, suddenly an old man's voice was heard saying: "37 to be exact." Startled, we all turned around to the place where the voice came, and saw a man wrapped in a serape, crouched, cutting the grass with scissors. He sat up and said, "Good evening, I'm Jerome, the gardener, but everyone calls me Don Jero. The man came to light the campfire and we saw his battered face and starving body. He said then: "Yes, folks, it had 37 estates, they were held by 18 wealthy families."

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As if we were all under a hypnotic trance, listening to the old man continued, "sugar and its derivatives, such as cane alcohol and liquor, were very profitable products. But all that said lamentación- progress ended when the rebels overthrew in 1910 to Don Porfirio ". His story was interrupted when the main gate was opened and we saw the lights of a car. It was my friend who was going to monitor our stay. I stepped forward to greet him and tell him about the mysterious gardener who, when we turn to the fire was gone. The face of my friend broke down and said, "he did it again". To my surprise, he confessed: "there is no gardener, he is a ghost, Don Jeronimo Beltran, the owner of the Hacienda, who violently died a century ago, along with his wife, to defend the property of the Zapatista forces."

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With great detail, he recounted the fatal outcome of Don Jero, but asked me not to say anything because he needed the job and the appearances were driving vacationers and staff. I returned to my room startled, basting the strange events since our arrival; but also with the dilemma of telling the improbable story to my family or remain silent with the expectation that no more supernatural events continue to occur. Hardly settled to sleep, but at dawn, I was awakened by a noise. I looked out the window and into the darkness of the night I saw Don Jero, back, sweeping the leaves of the garden; then he turned, slowly began to move towards me and as he approached I could distinguish his face disfigured and bloody ending plague on the glass to say, "get out of here." Suddenly I closed the curtains and, terrified, I knew we had to leave that place as soon as possible.  

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Tale of Revenge

It's been 12 years since that fateful day. One day when my wife was killed by the cold hands of Jack Doopler’s blood, a gangster who has dominated the city of Luxembourg with smuggling of weapons, drugs and women. The person I killed five days ago. My name is John Smith, I used to be a private detective who specializes in finding thieves and thugs who would work for Jack Doopler; every time I caught one, I questioned him for getting information so we could catch Doopler and bring him to justice. Or so they thought. What they really wanted was to kill Jack, since he was the one who took away my beloved wife’s life in front of my eyes; five days ago I killed Jack Doopler with my own hands, as he did with my wife. Day 1: Calmy in my flat i was torturing one of the Doopler’s henchmen when I heard someone knocking on my door; with my hands bloody and full of saliva and mucus I opened the door and saw a woman; she was a beautiful blonde with blue eyes with a smile capable of i conquering any man, his face a horrible feeling of sadness and regret, which I did not notice because I was mesmerized by the majesty of her slender body, her turbant breasts, her undulating hips, her firm legs and her beautiful blond hair falling over her face which she picked as an innocent girl. Awkwardly I asked her - Who are you and what do you want? - To which she replied - Wanna know how to get back at Doopler? -. I quickly closed the door in her face and went to wash my hands; when I finished I let her come in without caring about a half-dead man in my room. As soon as she sat down I asked who she was and what she knew of Doopler, have to which she replied that she was his wife. I must admit for a moment I hesitated whether to kill her or not, but then she confessed she recently found out what her husband had done and committed heinous acts to the city and its people, so she asked me to help her face her husband and bring him to justice. Day 2: It’s 02:25 pm, 22 hours have passed since the last time I saw Doopler’s wife, Christine Douglas; during our evening I told my story with Jack and she confessed hers to me. Before leaving she gave me some papers and bank accounts she had stolen from her husband's desk, including locations in all black markets, drug factories, bars and strip clubs where he

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deposited and saved part of their finances and transactions, also several vessels and containers in which there were shipments with weapons. The night fell and i confirmed that the information Christine provided me was not false, now it only takes a little time and my thirst for vengeance will be reached. Days 3 and 4: With Christine’s information I have been able to get shipments of Doopler’s weapons; I have removed all his money and destroyed his drug cartels throughout the city, so now i only need take to care of him in person. In recent days I have heard that the great Jack Doopler is desperate and has been abandoned by most of his subordinates, the police are after him and he can barely survive by hiding in his old drug factories. Then I started to get around when someone knocked on my door, it was Christine; I opened the door and I saw her. Desperate and with a face full of tears, kneeling on the ground begging for mercy before me, she asked me not to kill her husband. At first I did not understand why the person who had given me the information I used to achieve my revenge accumulated within me for 12 years ; suddenly prevented me from the same vengeance. Then I went crazy and hit her. Screaming, crying and blooded by my heating her, she began to beg for mercy for her husband and herself, trying in vain to convince me not to kill him, that she regretted what she did to her husband and the evil that she caused him now because Jack Doopler was ill and helpless. Then ecstatic and excited because I would finally achieve my revenge, I killed her. I killed Christine Douglas. Without realizing I broke her neck, and then I hit her against the glass that was next door. I lay on the floor and I saw my reflection in a small piece of glass, and thought about what I had become, I became Jack Doopler. After leaving my home, I went to the Doopler’s factory to finally fulfill my revenge. When I arrived at the factory, I saw two of his guards. So I had to be cautious; I moved slowly and when the guards were distracted, i shot and killed them within seconds. Only two minutes were enough for me to find a Doopler devastated. Without hesitation I shot him in the leg, he woke up with a cry and opened his eyes, he could see me and realized that I had shot him. Scared he asked me who I was and why I shot him. Laughing I answered that I was that detective years before he had left without a family, who sought vengeance and would

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not have mercy. With tears, he began to apologize but I rejected them and without words I shot him in the head. Day 5: It was 00:01 am when I called the police, confessing that I was the one who had killed Jack Doopler, who had illegally broken into the factory where he was hiding and attacked him causing his death. This is how I, John Smith, a former detective of 38 years old I took revenge on the person who killed my wife, killing him and myself. THE END.

 

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It’s Just a Dream

A dark room, a floodlight illuminates me, lost in the midst of this place, I start to run, light follows me but it lights nothing. I ran all night or all day, I can not distinguish it, all I know is that I'm tired and I have to rest, thinking this a sweet simmer began to emerge from my feet stretching far enough as to lay me on it. Lying, caressing the soft green grass, look it was light and a silver figure

covers part of it, it is a woman, but... is it floating? No, it is not, in a type of metal bar covered by fabrics that hang and rub my almost naked body. It sways like a hammock, it flies in it and it makes me begin to raise me

with his grace. She grabs the bar with her delicate hands and drops, holding in her arms while her white dress flies and takes extraordinary and magnificent figures. It has come off, she lets go of the bar and revolves in the air like a kite's summer dancing and... It vanished, disappeared, I exalt and I start to look for it while her gown falls, but falling I see a white dove flies in space and I feel relaxed again. The Trapeze is still there, still, I want to get onto it and try to jump, did it and did not make it. Suddenly, the grasses begin to grow forming a ladder towards the starred space along with the trapezius and I gently start to rise up it to climb to the bar. After repeated tricks and stunts that emanated magic, my adrenaline-filled

soul managed to dare to jump to the void, I start to balance, stronglier and stronglier and then I jumped and holding me with my hands in the bar not to fall, I balance more and more until I finally let go and fly forward by turning in the air, naked, leaving all my being free with no less importance and then, when I was about to fall, someone grabs my hands, it was a trapeze artist on another bar by holding his legs, smiles but does not speak, he thinks, I know it, see it in his eyes, but can not read them, he has a pretty bright multi-coloured pair of pants and then, without warning, his betrayal was shocking, I loose, I fell to the empty space up to touch the grass again and I faint. When I finally managed to wake up I'm in a room completely red, it has a balcony but it is closed without letting me see the exterior, if one exists. At each corner a clown watches me, at the first corner a clown high with a big smile and a blue helium balloon, it is tall and burly, but it seems harmless, on the other hand, clown number two looks sinister and terrifying, his suits

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worn and dirty did not help, and in his right hand he holds a mechanical robot the size of a pear, clown number three is small, it is a child, but he is sad and has a tear drawn on his face and he is dressed in white, his sweet blue jumping bronco and finally, clown number four does not let see his face, a very extravagant hat covers it and in his left hand takes a very colorful lollipop of the size of my head. All gradually begin to approach, to reach me, the burly clown gives me its blue globe, sinister clown turns on his robot and it makes it walk towards me, the young boy clown jumping towards me gives me his jumping bronco, the clown in the extravagant hat gives me his lollipop, all give me an offering, and I receive them warmly a little bewildered I climb up to the bronco, attach the balloon to my wrist so it always flies together with me, taking the robot I put it in my jacket pocket close to my chest so you see what I see, then I take the lollipop and try it with grace and I thank them all, they open the door of the room and finally I go outside. I lay in an extraordinary landscape, mountains and a large Blue Lake show off in the sunny day, the trees on the sides dance with the wind and the birds sing. Jumping in the apparatus of the sweet child by the Meadow next to the shade of the trees and the reflection of its leaves and its colours on my face, nothing could be more perfect until, without realizing it, a small insect begins to stand in my view, its wings were transparent butin the light it radiated violet, blue, green, yellow colours and so on, I started to leave the path and from a second to the other I fell into a bottomless pit, dark and damp, unable to hold to any root or anything similar, I fell and fell for hours and I turn round to see if it had a bottom and I see a light at the end, a light that radiated hopeless reality and in the end I can touch it. What happened? I remember nothing, just my dream, whose is this House? Broken everywhere, glass, tablets and pills, bottles of alcohol, I think... This is Joy’s house, Yes, the party, who is this girl? My head aches, what has happened with the clown? And the landscapes? And the trapeze artist? I think that it was a damned dream.

   

    

 

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The Unexpected Disappearance

  This story begins with the disappearance of two children, of only eight and ten years old. Already three hours have happened from the incident. His father Juan drove to despair, these wretched hours turned into eternal and exasperating moments. This happened at 3:00 PM, when the children went out of the school and nobody knew of them. After half an hour their father called the police desperately, which would help to investigate on the case. The hours passed and everything was the same, nobody knew anything of them and in the scene of the crime there were not witnesses. The police were not finding other strategies of search; although they were confused and exhausted, they did not give up. After a few days the case was discovered and solved… https://www.dropbox.com/lightbox/home/bbaingles3: ending 1 https://www.dropbox.com/lightbox/home/bbaingles3: ending 2

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Fallen in Combat

Day one after the catastrophe: I’m in a bunker fifteen feet below the ground and walls of 2.5 feet. The

highly touted as the safest in the country, the one with the most unstable but “controllable” Reactor core, has suffered a “Nuclear meltdown” causing it to explode, destroying half of the city with the explosion and leaving the city highly contaminated. I am locked in here with I think, maybe 30 or forty people. We can’t get out, radiation levels are really high. Dallas, one of the survivors, is a reservist of the army, and he tells he can get us out of here, destroying one of the walls of the bunker with the emergency explosives. We voted, in two days we leave this place.

Day four after the catastrophe: Everything is going from bad to worse. The calculations of Dallas failed, and he destroyed the north corner of the bunker, burning almost all the provisions, three Hazmat suits, and killed two more, not counting Dallas. Now we have news: the explosion of the Nuclear Reactor in reality was a Russian attack. The country is in war and the help won’t come that faster like we think. Here is confusion. I'm doubting of the air seal. It activates after explosions, but I think, it’s not trustable. Day seven after the catastrophe: Some people commit suicide, there’s too much pressure, I try it too, but my strength fails me. The food and the water start to get scarce. I see some people in the gun shop; I know they are planning something, and probably they want all, water, food, weapons, etc. I have my personal gun, but I can’t kill all of them. I’m scared and my gun doesn’t help. I feel tension every time someone walks near another person. Yesterday they slashed someone when he was sleeping. Since then we don’t

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sleep. I hear the radio, the war continues, but the computer can’t detect more signals. Day 10 after the catastrophe: The tension explodes. I hear shootings. They are killing for a glass of water and three cans of food. I can kill one, but I think they kill five of my side. One of them was killed by stabbing, it was horrible. I see all from the computer of the communication room, where I was locked. He was there bleeding to death. I have to escape when no one can see me, steal a Hazmat suit and get the hell out of here. Day eleven after the catastrophe: The confrontation finished, some died and the generator stopped working. I must go to find that outfit. I think I can defend myself. It was horrible to see that, at the end they committed suicide and destroyed the generator. Here there’s no energy, therefore the radiation starts to leak, and I have doubts of my survival. Day fifteen after the catastrophe: There are no more hazmat suits, they slash me with the outfit and now it is useless. I lost too much blood, I don’t think I can make it. I check the computer before the auxiliary light goes out. The Russians are winning this war. I hear noises. They steal my gun and I’m helpless. I’m feel dizzy. I don’t have more tablets of iodine and I vomited 3 or 4 times. I’m going to die. Day sixteen after the catastrophe: I’m dying in the debris of this destroyed city, surrounded by the bodies of the scum of the human race, I will not last one hour more. I decided to blow up the entire bunker, it’s a preferable way to die. Hopefully this information will be received in Moscow. I declare myself fallen in combat.