Serial Lyrically, from Puerto Rico by Carlos Esteban Cana 
Antonio Aguado Charneco is one of the great Puerto Rican writers. His work is vast. Huge. Novels, essays, and stories. Everything has been building quietly over the years. Unlike other writers who have the academy as a showcase to disclose his work (with all the modus operandi involved), Tony has had the presence of some writer friends that we have evaluated the excellence of his writing. Amilcar Cintron and myself, therefore, we encouraged him to bring forth issues to the enormous flow that represents his unpublished work. And though always reluctant to answer our requests, after a health setback Aguado Charneco listened.
During the month of December 2010 will be published periodically Collection Which brings together dozens of Homer, initially, unpublished short stories Charneco Aguado. In this major publishing event several writers have joined the courtyard on a project that aims to be a service culture. Yolanda Arroyo Pizarro, Angelo Falcón Negron, Eleanor E. Quirorges (who got from his exile literary), Rose Otto Velez and social psychologist Viera Edison Calderon are the authors who presented the first five books. Narcocuentos, Eroticuentos, Pasiocuentos, Ludicuentos and Mejicuentos are the titles that will run during the Christmas of 2010. Two books in the collection, Soseiva Sotal on the threshold of hell shady and halite are available 2011.
Therefore, in points, from Puerto Rico, comes another breakthrough of the dozens of Homer by Antonio Aguado Charneco. This is the story A tender crunch, first published in his book Path Shady (1995) and included in the anthology Breath of the underworld. A TENDER
GNASHING I have not returned. Or get lost on the way back. Did not get the relief they went to look. Everything else is like this ... ghost towns, swallowed by sand seas, resembling wave crests of the dunes.
Here only the steeple of the church is free of sand accumulation and its ropes got inside. Found in these writings, he would have preferred not to have read. From what they say I can be in danger, the reread:
"A rare form as quickly distanced himself from the village towards the cemetery. In the waning moon sky looked like a sickle knife very grinding, its dim light just perching on the stones and the silver-haired revoltiijo which, like wildfire, seemed to float in a straight line from the village to the cemetery. Suddenly the dough with silver strands fell to ground and landed on the edge of an open grave, although the stone had a name engraved ... the tomb was empty. Soon spread a gloomy whistles as lost souls, on the desolate and thought reviewed the past ...
all started with a dry wind, which came from the south, blowing day and night. Then came the total absence of clouds, which lasted forever, y. .. never rained again.
Rivers round boulders began to show their beds, carpeting, and the funds dry creeks and streams were broken into irregular geometrical shapes, such as mud tiles y. .. miscarry all the crops, of course.
The excessive heat was sucking the green fields and brown the ground moisture, trees and shrubs were left naked, burnt foliage by a sun that gave the impression, left early and then refused to be ... delaying the evening.
Water from the dam down perceptibly. From the bottom of the artificial lake were resurfacing the silhouettes of flooded structures. The first to emerge was the cross of the old church, which was lengthened to show their base. After the capital was evident in the bell tower and the average area of \u200b\u200bthe dome.
One morning we heard a plaintive ring, a bell tone doubling in mourning. All people knew they were the bells of the church but, by superstitious fear, not reached the religious grounds, and instead moved without exchanging words, up the cliff above the small lake. There
showed puzzled by the rapid depletion of the water, that revealed the Gothic facade, marred by the accumulation of silt, the silt clouding the atrium. After exchanging comments, very softly, the congregation went scattering.
on rural community was fanning a breath of hell. The hot air seeping sirocco buzzing, pulling branches and wood groans; orchestrating the ominous tolling of bells, funeral notes, a relentless march mourning.
An oppressive atmosphere energy draining, straining too much who ventured outside the shelter of the shade. During the day only dust devils roamed the deserted streets, the people only came out at dusk, a single well water tank, whose level dropped rapidly. All became night owls, as no work could be carried out during the stifling hours of sunlight. It was from the shadows to perform various tasks, it was at night when the starving animals butchered barely remained brooding in the dark, charred grasslands.
Someone commented that the sun felt bigger and closer. The following day they tried to pry the hearing were affected, and no one dared challenge the shining star.
Time was very routine. During the day or even blinds or curtains parted, avoiding the blinding glare, not breathing in air that hurt throats and lungs. Deifying cult, to the shady, insidiously began to organize.
Al exhausted laying poultry flocks were consumed. Land went on to lose color and texture: first around the earth yellow and spongy, whitish and very light after. The wind raised great clouds of dust, stacking them around the buildings, every night had to shovel the dust to prevent it from suffocating the hole and swallow the town. Desertification was seated.
situation becoming more precarious still. Gradually draft animals were slaughtered for consumption, then the wood had to be carried on his back more and more weakened. Soapy water was thrown on the ground to flush out the worms and use them in soups.
The council of elders called emergency meeting, without much argument, ruled that it was necessary to leave the burning siege to seek help, before reaching full agreement ended the night and lift the horizon of an angry sun rose, Shooting with shafts whatever burning ray. Everyone rushed to hide their skin pigmentation and protect the eyes that excessive glare focus.
The next night, in a hurry, they drew lots among the best trained, the four selected provisioned with bottles of murky water and the flesh of a bird of prey repulsive dying the sky is falling. At the beginning of the next evening departed in opposite directions towards the main points of the compass.
While the people waited, speculating about the fate of the expedition, marched on the same in a stupor of inactivity. The contaminated dwarfed many nights with an enervating sloth, with an economy of movement, but not all ... Some adherents of the new religious sect kept in the shadows a feverish activity; others of them, gathered in the church, and left uncovered by the water evaporated, murmuring prayers in the shadows of the candles and singing the praises of light opaque selenite.
The water had to be transferred to stand in tanks because they had very muddy. Began to lose its way, to pots and kettles, household pets: cats and dogs, monkeys and lemurs, macaws, parrots and cockatoos. In apparent contradiction
the night grew cold, the sleepless Community task passed around the campfire. The darkness is illuminated and perfumed with the sizzle of the resin in the logs, from the ashes rose the pyres, giving magic elf and the environment, encouraging atmosphere for the revival of older art, and around the campfire storytellers proliferated.
The stories revolved relative to water, until it was reached mythic proportions. Adults and children listened absorbed the stories of abundant rains and floods, long or rivers, and the vast splendor of the Great Lakes. Many remembered with nostalgia, the last time you saw rain. Some told the legend of the flood and Noah, a builder of ships, another chronicle of a place where the lack of the precious and indispensable fluid was the cause of a very great famine, and sparked a frenzy that culminated in the most abominable aberration of the human race ... so often inhumane.
On several occasions one of the tellers of tales, captured the attention telling about the oceans: their improbable dimensions and depths of chimeric animals that lived and cannibalistic monsters lurking in them, so until another cuentador eclipsed the fables around a people who lived on a hard water area, called ice and snow, very few believed him, despite an old man said to remember a thunderstorm with a few drops calls solid hail.
A heat wave raged several deaths occurred, in particular was strongly felt the death of the head of the council. The dead were buried almost at ground level, as the dusty sands prevented some deep digging.
hunger was growing dwarf people. Even the seeds, once saved in hope, were used as food, it was rumored that even the placentas and umbilical cords were taking advantage ... Nothing could doubt those beings cadaveric skulls and faces, in which huge protruding eyes to look foolish.
evidence of the great need and despair was an incident ... happened when the old priest was struck by the clamor of children in the chapel; the group had chased and caught a lizard in front of the altar, tore him right there and began to devour their flesh while they still trembled. In the harsh glare of criticism of the cleric fled the youngsters, but still move the cheeks Fringed with blood. On the floor was the tail of the reptile, hypnotic in its spasmodic twist.
The venerable monk bowed slowly, as in genuflection, and gently took the tail with your fingertips, for a while looked at the sinuous movements, gently shook the grains of sand stuck to the scaly skin slowly turned a furtive look and, with suction of who swallows a wet noodle, ventured the oscillating appendage in his mouth. Then he walked away, head bent, begging and lamely, trying in vain to hide her chewing the tender crunch. Perhaps that was one of his worst moments ... maybe not.
The new sect was stagnant, and no longer seduce new recruits. The religious fervor was dying at the same rate as the population and did not flow into any direction, in that place, deserted by the divine hands, all the deities of old or Ogan, were just as apathetic to the tragedy that consumed.
Then, when all hope of survival was lost, the priestess of the Cult of the week announced a revelation ... Under the influence of the full moon had occurred an amazing discovery and led to the unbelievers into the basement of the church, there was a large supply of meat, some sliced \u200b\u200bsmoked, other cured in barrels of brine, the driest in the sun ... a whole cornucopia of jerky, beef jerky and jerky.
After finding the proselytes increased dramatically, as the dinner was an integral part of the ceremonies, instead of the symbolism of the wine and bread, or the lizard and its blood, was carried out allegory of meat broth and pieces thereof.
The clergyman of the old religion was alone with her liturgy. On several occasions some exdevoto It took a portion of the boom as newly discovered, he disdained such offers and prior to warm the morning, spent the early hours to support himself, chasing lizards and salamanders ... prized above all the delicious lines of delicate crunch. Musical background occasionally accompanying the singing of the sands when they slipped, chanting in compacted layers.
Then came the moment when he could not cross over with his double defeat, in an evening he left, taking only a jar of muddy water and the fork to catch reptiles. He left the church and looked around what had been his parish. Ceremonies had not yet begun the cult of the moon and the only thing moving was the rolling of uprooted shrubs, in particular dried rose bushes of Jericho, unpinned by the winds, giving a staggered circular nomadic desert plants.
Very quickly left the town atrechando the cemetery loomed above the crescent Moon, so like the blade of a very sharp scythe, which passed out a dull glow on the cemetery, the timid light illuminating just tombstones tilted and stone crosses. The black religious habits mingled with the darkness of the night, but the low moon gave flashes of silver white hair, leading to an illusion in which his hair was float disembodied.
the old man In the darkness he stumbled and fell face down on the tomb of an open pit. The man stood leaning on the stone lapidary and he read the name of the council had recently passed away, but ... that tomb was empty.
With eyed cleric peered around ... Showed many graves excavated ... all empty. For a while he stood still. So distracted whistled a tune, whose notes secured a south wind, enlarging them, making them sound macabre. Slowly, his head down the church steps back into town ... Pondering ... how best to cope, and combat the collusion of ghouls ... dead vultures.
All this occurred when the south wind and scorching sun too dim, the rationale and shortly before the hunger completely stifle the humanity of the people, prior to that total animal, before they started the sacrifices and cannibal feasts fresh meat prior to that trying to appease the crazed blood-thirsty of all, before the population is consuming itself, and only the last member of the brotherhood of cannibals ... died a natural death.
I, the compiler (I could not resist the temptation to dress the writings), lasted more than anyone likely to look unappetizing for me because of my frugal habits, that kept me skinny, which bore Penant ... I really am, because, since they became extinct salamanders and Gilas, painstakingly rummaging I spend my livelihood, now where I can only find the delightful crunch is ... in the cartilage of the ears, but fortunately no one was eating and all discarded near the scalp.
During the hours of light I can not help blow my ambushing the return of the expeditionary wing live, in the waking hours of the night, I spend my time praying for giving me enough strength in ... big resist temptation. "©
Antonio Aguado Charneco
