Despair Avenue
A.P. Hernández
Translated by Maria Julia Munoz Serrano
“Despair Avenue”
Written By A.P. Hernández
Copyright © 2017 A.P. Hernández
All rights reserved
Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.
www.babelcube.com
Translated by Maria Julia Munoz Serrano
“Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
DESPAIR | AVENUE
Index
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DESPAIR
AVENUE
A.P. Hernández
About the author
A.P. Hernández (Murcia, 1989) is a teacher of Primary Education, Master in Research and Innovation in Education and Doctor, mention cum laude, for his Doctoral Thesis Evaluation of the competence in linguistic communication through the stories in Primary Education.
He has been awarded an Accésit in the Prize of Literary Creation Nemira and has been Finalist in the International Contest of Fantastic Novel and Dagon Terror.
At present he combines his teaching role with writing.
Twitter: @ap_hernandez_
Web site: http://aphernandez.weebly.com
Index
CHAPTER 1
-Autumn Leaves-
CHAPTER 2
-Four conclusions-
CHAPTER 3
-Her name is Cecilia-
CHAPTER 4
-Hope Street-
CHAPTER 5
- An eternity ago-
CHAPTER 6
-Desperate Avenue -
CHAPTER 7
-At Fifth floor –
CHAPTER 8
-Closer-
CHAPTER 9
-Behind-
CHAPTER 10
-Back View-
CHAPTER 11
-Iron against Iron-
CHAPTER 12
-Letter C-
CHAPTER 13
-Final Chapter-
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER 1
-Autumn Leaves-
I do not know how it happened.
As you will understand, it is a subject in which I have thought a lot, but to this day, I continue without understanding the causes or reasons that gave rise to such a fateful outcome.
It was an autumn afternoon and I was walking at eight o'clock in the afternoon with my dog Luna, a three-year-old German shepherd. I remember the first shadows of the sunset beginning to project through the trees of the municipal park, and of course I also remember the wilted leaves that covered it like a huge brown carpet. Luna trotted beside me, panting, swinging her tail from left to right with rhythmic movements. We were heading back home.
There will always persist in my mind the sound of dead leaves crunching under my feet and that wisp of warm air that caressed my face like invisible hands.
I walked a few steps and simply fell to the ground without life. I watched as Luna licked my hand and, shortly after, my face. I heard the scream of a woman when saw my body and I watched the congregation of people who clustered around Luna and me. Finally, I saw an ambulance arrived at the municipal park, how the doctors asked the crowd to pull away and how the doctor broke my checked sweater, sounded my heart and tried to revive me with the defibrillator.
All in vain.
I realized that I was dead and that there was no turning back when the doctors wrote down the time of death on a sheet and then put my body in a yellow bag that zipped. Luna was taken by a policeman, perhaps with the intention of giving it to a relative.
The agent had to drag her. She did not want to leave. My dog began barking in the direction of the ambulance, not understanding what was happening.
Shortly after, the people dispersed and, after half an hour, the park was empty. I stood motionless by the place where I had died, clothed in the shadows of the night.
-What happened? "- It was the first thing I asked myself- . And what am I supposed to be now? A kind of ghost?
I raised my hands and looked at the bushes through my skin. I bent down and tried to take a leaf off the ground, but I could not. My hands sank into the humus without touching anything.
-And what do I do now?
Perhaps in search of answers, I began to walk, accompanied by a horrible silence. I no longer heard the rustle of the leaves beneath my feet.
CHAPTER 2
-Four conclusions-
During the coming days I had time to think.
I will not narrate here how my funeral was, nor the autopsy that the coroner did to my old carcass, determining that what had caused my death was an stroke.
-A cerebrovascular disease that no doctor detected, showed no symptoms at all, and apparently had been with me for many years.
One morning, wandering nowhere, I felt the sudden need to visit my wife and daughter. I had divorced Natalia for years and wanted to see my little girl
-¿"How old is Lorena?" 27? 28?
I did not even know it. I deliberately moved to the outskirts of a remote city with the intention of not seeing them again, with the absurd pretension of getting rid of everything they were and meant for me.
"But I could not ... And perhaps in the distance their presence has been more evident.
In fact, not a single day has passed since I moved without thinking about them.
Natalia, after an empty and languid marriage, went with another man. Lorena at the age of majority, also disappeared. There was no longer any reason to visit me, to spend an endless weekend with me plagued by false smiles and forced conversations.
It was a long journey that was far to reach the town, but I did not care. I sensed that time was just what I had left.
During my crossing, I began to familiarize myself with my new spiritual state, drawing some conclusions. The first and most obvious was that I could not touch anything, because my body crossed the matter. However, if the object in question was very light, I could exert some influence on it and move it. I came to such determination when, walking on a sidewalk, I came across a plastic bag. I kicked it and, to my surprise, it moved. "Though it might have been because of a draft."
I also understood that trying to move objects, even if they were something as insignificant as a thread, drained my strength to the point of being exhausted.
The second aspect I determined was that I was invisible. I understood it as I walked down a busy street. No one noticed me, and if someone looked in the direction of my eyes, he really focused on something that was behind me. People were blowing through me like air.
All this being said, my new state incited me on certain occasions to go through the door, window or, directly, the wall of a house and snoop around where others believed to have privacy.
As I say, I was tempted, but I did not. My education and ethics did not allow it. I did not want to see a married couple dwell in bed or hear the private conversations of others.
The third conclusion I reached was the one concerning the faces. As the days passed, the faces of the people with whom I passed were blurred. Now, as I walk down the street, I can hardly distinguish the features of passers-by ... Just a pair of eyes and a shadow where the nose and mouth were supposed to be.
-"I have to get to downtown soon,"- I said to myself , speeding. -If I do not, maybe I can not even recognize my daughter ...
Finally, I made it clear that certain animals were warning of my presence. To the surprise of many movie writers, I will say that dogs have no sixth sense for this. How many dogs have pierced me without notici
ng me!
However, with birds and cats, things change. During my walk to the inner city I stopped and sat (or tried) on the bench in a small garden. In doing so, and although there was no one else, the sparrows who pecked bread crumbs at my side, took flight. I know it's not a test, but it's something.
Also, when a cat crosses with me (and does not need to be a black cat), it usually look up and look at me. Unlike people, cats do not cross my eyes to look at whatever is behind. They look at me directly.
CHAPTER 3
-Her name is Cecilia-
My newly acquired state did not cease to amaze me, but what happened that day would be a turning point.
It was a morning like any other and when walking, I felt like every step was closer to my ex-wife and daughter. I experienced a mixture of feelings difficult to describe: a little anxiety, a pinch of impatience, and especially a great deal of terror.
I was terrified to meet Natalia and Lorena again, scared the mere fact of being by their side ... even knowing that they would not see me.
The last time I saw Natalia was wearing a spring dress that revealed her slender white legs. I also remember that her straight black hair was collected in a long ponytail, which gave her a youthful look. As for my daughter, the last memory I have of her is framed in a peculiar scene: Lorena was backing with her newly acquired three-door Opel Corsa, with her left hand held a cigarette and, with her right, turned the steering wheel vehicle. After a barely perceptible head movement, she stepped on the accelerator and disappeared down the road.
- And that was many years ago ...
I wondered how much things must have changed, what would Natalia look like now, and especially my daughter's. Lorena was no longer a child, perhaps she would already have a boyfriend, or even be married.
In all that I thought when I heard that voice.
-...I dated with her...
In the parks and gardens you hear a lot of conversations, so I did not pay attention to what he was saying. I did not bother to look at the sender of such a message, convinced that he would be addressing a well-known recipient or, perhaps, talking to himself.
-...she is blonde...
That park was crowded, something normal since it was Sunday and the bad weather began to remit. The rays of the sun glided through the clouds and caressed all those who walked there. There were even those who, with towels, lay on the grass to play cards, read a book, or simply sunbathe.
- ... waiting for my wife...
My rest was coming to an end. I was about to resume my journey when, urged on by curiosity, I looked to the right.
The one who spoke was an old man. An octogenarian wearing an elegant suit, a classic black bow tie, and a cane on whose hilt an eagle's face was carved.
-I am waiting my wife –he said-. I’m waiting my wife.
I looked around, but in spite of the crowd there was no one else with whom the man could speak. At the bank, it was just him and me, which is why I figured he should talk to himself
-Have you seen my wife? –he asked-. Her name is Cecilia, she’s blonde, I dated with her an hour ago.
I looked more closely at the old man. His gaze was lost somewhere between the ground and his cane.
-I’m waiting my wife. I’m waiting muy wife. Have you seen my wife? Her name is Cecilia, she’s...
Horrified, I noticed a detail. This man had his hands covered with blood; The liquid slid down his staff into a puddle under his feet.
-...blonde, I dated with her an hour ago. I’m waiting my wife. I’m waiting muy wife. Have you seen ...?
I suddenly realized that the old man was dead. Blood gushed out of his wrists, impossible for any mortal
-No one can lose so much blood and stay alive .
Carefully, I got up, ready to leave as soon as possible .
-¿... my wife? Her name is Cecilia, she’s...
Before I left, I looked at the man one last time. He repeated the same words, the same phrases, over and over again, as if trapped in an endless spiral.
The puddle of blood that formed was implausible and began to cover his immaculate leather shoes
I turned and, as I did, I crashed (yes, yes ... ¡CRASHED!) with a woman. Her face was white as porcelain and she wore a white dress covered in blood. Her golden hair hung heavy on her shoulders, as if a no-current draft of air.
-Help me –she begged me, taking her hands to her neck-. Help me, help me, help me, hel...
She had a great cut on her neck and her head hung impossibly on one of her shoulders, attached to her body by a thin strip of skin
-Help me, help me, hel...
I started running.
I left the park as fast as I could. As I ran, I realized that, like the octogenarian and the decapitated woman, I was trapped in a kind of threshold between the world of the living and the world of the dead.
For some reason, my spirit had not crossed into the other world ...
-"How long will the old man repeat that speech?" -I asked myself-. How much longer will the woman ask for help? And, most importantly, how long will I walk between the living and the dead?
I would rather not know it.
CHAPTER 4
-Hope Street-
My old house was located on a busy street in the city center of the city: Hope Street.
-"Rather Despair Street," -I said.- It would be a more appropriate name .
The building I once called home was one of the many duplexes in the development. All were identical copies: of orange facades, with a small patio, a garage large enough to store a car, a tiny hall, a living room to the right, a kitchen facing the entrance, a bathroom attached to the kitchen and stairs leading to the second floor which was provided with another bathroom, two bedrooms and an office.
Despite the stereotyped distribution, over the years I learned to customize those rooms. Between its four walls there were good and bad moments, memories that I will always carry with me.
When the house rose in front of me, I experienced, for the first time in many years, a sudden feeling of discomfort. I could not explain the cause of such a state of mind. It was simply something that seized me and seized my spirit. Despite the radiance of the morning, I felt like something oppressed my soul.
"What a strange feeling!"
Seized by curiosity (and also by the desire to get rid of that feeling) I went to my old house.
I went through the entrance door without difficulty and, without further ado, I found myself inside.
-Luna!- I exclaimed, smiling for the first time since my death. -You are here!
My little dog was lying on a huge bluish cushion under the door frame of the living room. I was glad to see that it was all right. She had a pile of stuffed food and another full of water.
-Nothing will happen to her, "- I said, relieved. -Over time she will become accustomed to her new owners.
I heard the sound of television coming from the living room, so I went to have a look. I walked slowly down the hall, looking around.
-Everything has changed.
All the pictures, portraits or photographs had disappeared. Now the walls were bare, devoid of any decoration.
"But where is Buobak?"
Before Lorena was born, Natalia and I took a trip to Africa. Buobak was the name with which we baptized the souvenir that we brought: a huge sculpture of wood carved by hand. The sculpture represented one of the typical African masks, with its elongate and narrow features.
-¡How weird! Why would Natalia be discharged from Buobak? She adored it !
I entered the living room and, what I saw, snatched my breath away.
The table where we sat so often had disappeared, as did all the chairs and the rocking chair where my ex-wife liked to sit and read. The furniture in the living room was composed only of the furniture on which rested the television and a sofa.
But that was not what gave me a heartbreak.
Natalia was there. She lay on the sofa, watching a program of the heart. She had
changed a lot, had lost several kilos, purple bags were drawing under her eyes and the skin of her face was tense and damaged. There was nothing left of that perfect, snowy skin that I kissed so many times.
However, I could hardly notice those details. All my attention was centered on that thing that embraced her.
I use the word thing because I can not think of another word to describe it. The thing was like nothing I'd ever seen before. It was black, amorphous, and clung to my ex-wife's neck with obstinate insidia. The only recognizable were his hands: black, with long fingers and sharp fingernails. The fingers (CLAWS!) were entwined around her walnut, making her breath difficult.
-But what...?
I could not finish.
The thing moved, and out of its blackness came two eyes. They looked at me and, in doing so (and even though I had no mouth), I knew it was smiling.
CHAPTER 5
- An eternity ago-
Locating my daughter turned out to be a lot more complex than I initially thought. To my surprise, Lorena no longer lived at home. Upon entering the room that had been her bedroom, I checked that all her belongings had disappeared (except for the head of the bed that was bolted to the wall).
The pink trunk that for so many years had rested at the foot of her bed, and where so many dresses and shirts had kept, was no longer, like the poster of her favorite rock band, the pine wood desk, Its college edge, the Great Memories mural, the copper velvet carpet, and so many other things I could not remember.
But what convinced me that she had moved, no doubt, was the gap I found on the shelf. Where they had rested innumerable plush toys before, now only a thin layer of dust remained.
Lorena always liked stuffed animals. It was a hobby that retained during her whole childhood, lasted until her adolescence and, finally, the adult stage of her life. The result of such a hobby was an exorbitant collection. Lorena kept them and looked after them from the most ridiculous (like Health Worm) to the largest and most glossy (as was the case with that giant teddy bear I won at the city fair after shooting six consecutive cans with a birdshot shotgun).
At that moment, and as if out of nowhere, I heard the shrieks of a seven-year-old Lorena jumping and clinging to my waist after winning the trophy at this very prized shooting post.
Despair Avenue Page 1