Skip to main content

La Luz Es Como El Agua | Light Is Like Water | Part 1

     I wrote this short story many years ago, while I was in college and started taking Spanish language lessons in a idiom school. I wrote it as an assigment for my classes, originally in Spanish. 

It's been credited to another (real?) author on the internet, with the date of 78, but it's decades younger than that. 

No, I didn't ghostwrote this. My service offerings as ghostwriter is recent and much due to the situation I'm currently in, which seems like one obvious consequence of having my intellectual property used without permission. I only did two ghostwriting services in the past, as a kid. One of those resulted in a shared guard of the prize, modest for an adult, but a real treasure for two kids at that time.

This story inspired in my childhood; since young age, I was interested in science and technology, hence my many screenplays in sci-fi, and was fortunate enough to get a correct explanation, thus being able to write this story. 

It will be published in parts, due to the whims of a mean typist.


Read it in English

La Luz Es Como El Agua


     En Navidad los niños volvieron a pedir un bote de remos.

    - De acuerdo - dijo el papá, lo compraremos cuando volvamos a Cartagena.

    Totó, de nueve años, y Joel, de siete, estaban más decididos de lo que sus padres creían.

    - No - dijeron a coro -. Nos hace falta ahora y aquí.

    - Para empezar - dijo la madre -, aquí no hay más aguas navegables que la que sale de la ducha.

    Tanto ella como el esposo tenían razon. En la casa de Cartagena de Indias había un patio con un muelle sobre la bahía, y un refugio para dos yates grandes. En cambio aquí en Madrid vivían apretados en el piso quinto del número 47 del Pasco de la Castellana. Pero al final, ni él ni ella pudieron negarse, porque les habían prometido un bote de reinos con su sextante y su brújula si se ganaban el laurel del tercer año de primaria, y se lo habían ganado. Así qui el papá compró todo sin decirle nada a sua esposa, que era la más reacia a pagar deudas de juego. Era un precioso bote de aluminio con un hilo dorado en la línea de flotación.

    - El bote está en el garage - reveló el papá en el almuerzo -. El problema es que no hay cómo subirlo ni por el ascensor ni por la escalera, y en el garage no hay más espacio diponible.

    Sin embargo, la tarde del sábado siguiente los niños invitaron a sus condiscípulos para subir el bote por las escaleras, y lograron llevarlo hasta el cuarto de servicio.

    - Felicitaciones - les dijo el papá ¿ahora qué?

    - Ahora nada - dijeron los niños-. Lo único que queríamos era tener el bote en el cuarto, y ya está.

    La noche del miércoles, como todos los miércoles, los padres se fueron al cine. Los niños, dueños y señores de la casa, cerraron puertas y ventanas, y rompieron la bombilla encendida de una lámpara de la sala. Un chorro de luz dora y fresca como el agua empezó a salir de la bombilla rota, y lo dejaron correr hasta qui el nivel llego a cuatro pies. Entonces cortaron la cadena, sacaron el bote, y navegaron a placer por entre las islas de la casa.


Light is like water


     At Christmas the children asked for a rowboat again.

    - Okay - said the dad, we will buy it when we return to Cartagena.

    Totó, nine years old, and Joel, seven, were more determined than their parents believed.

    - No - they said in chorus -. We need now and here.

    - To begin with - said the mother -, there is no navigable water here other than the one that comes out of the shower.

    Both she and her husband were right. In the house in Cartagena de Indias there was a patio with a dock over the bay, and a shelter for two large yachts. However, here in Madrid they lived overcrowded on the fifth floor of number 47 in Pasco de la Castellana. But in the end neither he nor she could refuse, because they had been promised a ship of kingdoms with its sextant and compass if they got the third-grade laurel, and they had earned it. So the father bought everything without telling his wife, who was the most reluctant to pay the gambling debts. It was a beautiful aluminum boat with a golden thread on the waterline.

    - The boat is in the garage - the father revealed at lunch -. The problem is that there is no way to get it up either by the elevator or by the stairs, and there is no more space available in the garage.

    However, the following Saturday afternoon the children invited their classmates to carry the boat up the stairs, and they managed to get it to the utility room.

    - Congratulations - their dad told them, what now?

    - Nothing now - said the children -. The only thing we wanted was to have the boat in the room, and that's it.

    On Wednesday night, like every Wednesday, the parents went to the movies. The children, owners and lords of the house, closed the doors and windows, and broke the light bulb of a lamp in the living room. A stream of light, golden and cool as water, began to come out of the broken bulb, and they let it flow until the level reached four feet. Then they cut the chain, took out the boat, and sailed at will among the islands of the house.


 Read part 2 | Read part 3

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Woman in the Mirror

      I wrote this poem as a child, after a certain incident, and, like many of my poems attributed to other poets, this one has been commonly attributed to Cecília Meireles, maybe because she had a book on poems for children published. This isn't a nursery rhyme, though.      I finally translated everything into English (I grew up bilingual). Of course, this is not an exact translation, but rather an unprecedented adaption, as happens with poetry. You can read both versions bellow. Mullher ao Espellho Read it in English Hoje, que seja esta ou aquela Pouco me importa Quero apenas parecer bela Pois seja qual for, estou morta. Já fui loura, já fui morena Já fui Margarida e Beatriz Já fui Maria e Madalena Só não pude ser como quis. Que mal faz esta cor fingida Do meu cabelo, do meu rosto Se tudo é tinta; o mundo, a vida O contentamento, o desgosto. Karen Stärke Woman in the Mirror Today, being a zero or someone I no longer care As long as I'm the pretty o...

A poem right for your personality type and Myers-Briggs true story

     While I was writing new episodes for a famous and yet uncredited TV comedy series , I came up with the plot in which one of the characters, an actor, is having trouble with getting into a character's skin and his best friend, originally a writer, that recently started seeing a psychoanalist, suggests he tries a psychology type test called Myers-Briggs - whose name, and its own creators' were invented - for composing the character.      I took inspiration from an already existing personality type test, that classifies the types into fleumatic, choleric, etc.  As I had tried it before and had trouble fitting within one of the types, I though that, in such cases, a better system would be a more comples one, with combinations of two or more determining personality traits. I set up for four, concluding that any such classification system is an abstration, and the more types, more precise it is.      As I digged into it, relying on my rud...

You Are Tired (I think), And So Am I

     As it happened with many of my poems, short stories , novels ,  songs, screenplays , etc , this one has also been widespread on the internet credited  to someone already dead when I was born.    I've been creating poems (and other stuff) since childhood, when I thought they were made to be declaimed, not written. But I wrote this  one in my adult life, and, due to the ambiguity of the sound of 'Jacynth Song' in Portuguese language,  though not enough to give up on this dreamly mysterious verse, which wasn't the first mention to this intriguing term,  I signed it under the sugestive name of   E. E. Cummings , soon creating another good poem under the same name.      Like in 'Eternal Shine of a Spotless Mind' , I kept referring my own work even when I forgot about it, thus later I've created an illustration based on this very same poem. You Are Tired (I think), And So Am I You are tired, (I think) And so am I ...