A present for you

This is a present for all the people. This is a beatiful story written by the best female writter: María Martín Ventas, a classmate 2ºBachillerato "A"

The characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to reality is mere coincidence.

So, one cold morning I was walking down a wide street in the imaginary world of my imagination. A non-existing day like any other.

I passed by the national non-existing bank, where all old memories are stored. And I thought to myself: well, I’ll go and check on some memories from my childhood. So I entered the bank, and there was something strange. Because, you know, normally non-existing banks are quite busy, crowded with non-existing people going back and forth with boxes full of memories to store.

But that non-existing day was different. There was a complete stillness, no non-existing bankers were at sight. It was as if everybody had left. But then I heard a little noise, it sounded like the tick-tack of a clock. So I began searching for the origin of the noise. It was indeed a clock, one of those big wooden clocks with a pendulum. It was in the centre of the large entrance. I had never imagined something like that, so it was kind of shocking for me to find one.

Then, I noticed something I hadn’t when I went through the door: the bank seemed old, almost in ruins; and the tick-tack continued as a background sound. I looked at my hands, they were no more young and agile, they were full of wrinkles.

I panicked, it was as if my whole life had passed without me noticing it. I fell to the ground crying like the little girl I was no more. There, in my solitary mind, surrounded by darkness, it would have been very easy to give up and stay there pitying myself for what I had lost.

But I wasn’t a coward, so I pushed myself to stand up and ordered my legs to move to the exit. I was going to find where the rest of my memories were.

I crossed the wide street, with only one thought in my mind: I wasn’t going to rest until I found my lost life. The sound of the clock joining me in my search, because time passes even in non-existing worlds.

Congratulations María. Carlos Ruiz Zafon would be proud of you. This story is wonderful. Next week, I am going to the translation of the story and I ask you questions about the time and the fear.