quarta-feira, 22 de junho de 2011
THE MAN BAT MAN
In a decrepit library where there are several mangos tree around it, in which hardly ever comes someone to study, in spite of the pleasant place for reading. as it hasn’t any persons, it attracks another kind of animal: bats. They are attracked by the sweet smell of the fruits competing with a single reader. Memor, a middle age man who reading is his favorite pastime.
At the time of the year, the old library is an attractive place only for night-owl creatures take over for the day, as the place is always closed, and they think they’re safe in dark rooms.
When the afternoon comes down, Memor, retired man, enjoys appreciating by reading a good book of choice modernist novels like Jorge Amado and others of them.
One day , when He was alone in his world of reading and pleasure, Memo felt a cold wind blowing his neck. It was a so intense cold that ran down his whole cord making him very nervous. And his heart beating very speedy. His hair, arm airs horrified showed his fear. But right before him there were an answer.
It was a bat that flew and had gone sit down on an wood of the home, right before his very eyes. Up there, it began to swing like a pendulum. As if Memor believed it wanted to hypnotize him to suck his precious purple liquid of human.
Memor watched the animal and he was fearing.
Before the animal decided to attack again, memo decided to attack before and He tried to hunt the defenceless animal.
He had only one leathern slipper and threw towards the small creature and He nearly hit it. However, the bat couldn’t understand anything about that surprise – attack.
It was as innocent as the man. Then as He came always to read.
It had always flown when the afternoon was over. But it was starting to rain and it getting dark too much early. It had awaked to exercise its body, afterward, to begin its routine of somnambulist.
And that´s why a tragedy was going to happen with it. It didn´t know what was going, but It was sure a thing, It would have to get away of furious man’s violent attacks. And then it flew from corner to corner, it flew the fastest it could to save its life.
But every time the man went wrong his attack he got angrier.and more furious He came back to put an end to defenceless night-owl animal. It found a rift in house top and it flew straight to get away the siege. But , by the time it was already reaching the exit it felt its left wing that staggering, hit in the wall and fell on the ground like a fluffy packet full of anything, now without strength unconscious, dead the winning man, happy by having executed his mission, held it by the hurt wing, poor and useless bat, still hot with its last moment of live, and put it inside a bottle with alcohol, to exposing to a lot of hundred of ignorant laymen the cruel scene, like a trophy of his mediocre victory.
When the enigmatic man recovered of the fear, took back his reading. He’s reading an early time’s realist novel, style Jorge Amado, in which, the scene is developed by the boyfriend being fondled by his darling. She was behind him passing her hand in his hair and grazing his nape with her ardent wishful lips. This time, reader and personage start to live a fictitious reality, in which, the proper reader seems to get involved much more and utterly by scene that’s read. It makes feel so concentrated in a pleasant and inebriating reading. Memor makes himself an alive character by acting, because He feels himself like real character, with the same sensations, with the same joys of the fondness. He utterly consumed by the reading and by the reality around him, He feels a hot sweat running down his breast and, at the same time, falling on the table, the book, the ground a scarlet liquid.
He’s benumbed by the fiction and by the reality, He tries to understand whether He’s been dreaming or sleeping. When He’s awoken truly off that snatch and apathy, He’s seen right before his very eyes, a bat flying happy and its mandibles were still bloody and tasting that human sweet scarlet liquid.
It was exactly the female of the bat which he’s had just to kill.
Bloody, now without a vision, he’s got before his eyes, more than one bat. And he had still the same gun which belonged to the first casualty, He tried to act but he didn’t have any good.
He got small all of a sudden. It was all what he got. And all of a sudden again he’s felt a mouse creeping on the table, and exceeding the proper blood He distressing the pages of that unhappy and wicked book which made it die.
When He jumped from the table, He thought he would fall on the ground; He felt to arise like a happy bird because he achieved freedom that all man wish to have one day.
However, He isn’t a bird. He isn’t a mouse. He isn’t a man. He is the own figure of man bat man. When He leaves the library He meets the same love, which got involved in the novel He read moments before. And everything very odd and confused for him. However He is sure the love in his heart makes to fell free as He cannot explain of so light forever. Well, He’s in motion, but He cannot distinguish sure whether he’s flying walking by or walking flying.
I was walking by the empty streets in Natal and having fun in the end of the afternoon in that wonderful day, because I Wanted to be in peace, to be calm, in silence in that day of grace, however, It was an afternoon of burning light, which invaded streets and avenues in that peaceful city. It was a holiday, independence of Brazil was celebrated. Our independence.
The whole avenue wound in the horizontal of the curves and in the vertical which happened illuminated ebony of the asphalt, when the sunlight reach it. There weren’t many cars. And, therefore, all was more silent than nowadays when everybody is working.
The king star graced the name that one day someone chose for it. And that also exalted without knowing the name of city that had its name or was said belonged to it. ‘city of the sun’. because of all, It shone like every other days of before. But everybody could see like a few few passer were happy. The happiness was stamped in their faces softly and clearly.
Out of the noisy cars, out of the people making tumult, birds can be heard: sparrow, kiskadee birds that got used to this mean to go on their kind. In spite that’s why was a day of grace. Holiday. For sure, Natal deserved that name in that day very much!
This is, for the light, for the peace, for the empty. The few people walking were free day by day situation and they seemed to broadcast happiness like all the birds, to streets, and specially, to day. Well, that day, was over and any sadness inside. Because It was day of our independence and It was holiday in our country.
And everything was an only happiness, a perennial satisfaction. I was sure that day lived and witnessed with the metropolis, literally our quieter, more beautiful, freer and more… day of independence.
But, for well of the veredict, in that endless joy, in that endless peace, paradoxically that day hide me, an also endless melancholy.
The afternoon was over, the warm and only night came. And the paradox established itself to deny the peace the afternoon had. Lighted stakes imitated the moon light to afford me the same peace. Switched off utterly and everything turn into darkness and fear.
And, our wonderful independence ‘ paradox, now was a prision for me. When I saw a poor mongrel dog, sleeping in street. There wasn’t anything between it and the cold ground in that night. When It saw I closing it up, It followed me along the road. I wanted to prevent it. But it wasn’t possible. The dog needed food. It was so thin I was sorry. It followed me to my home. I got home; and because of darkness that still remained, I served it leaftovers that would go to the rubbish. And I tied up in the piazza. I put a little water in a vessel and I went to the bed with justice in that day of independence of Brazil.
Next morning, the upset servant, called me to tell me someone had left a child in our piazza. I ran to see her. And I had a sad surprise, the child was still tied up and She was crying a lot.