Short Stories

Short Stories

Nuria García Arteaga

Published by Nuria García Arteaga at Smashwords

http://www.nuriawriter.nl

Copyright © 2015 Nuria Jiménez Ramirez

Pucallpa 193, Brena, Lima Cercado, Peru

Translation: Brent Smith, Gerwyn Moseley

Editor: Gladys Nuria Jiménez Ramirez

Photography: Nuria Jimenez Ramirez, Ina Couvee, Finn-Erik Moberg

Cover: Chris Van Velsen (chrish2k@hotmail.com)

http://www.velsingdesigns.deviantart.com

Clive Thompson www.getclive.com

Dan Van Gtz www.enumaelishdesigns.deviantart.com

Music: Setsuna http://www.setsuna.de/Setsuna/Home.html

Kevin Dwan; Luis Enrique Espinoza; Juan Carlos Chavez Contreras https://www.facebook.com/juancarlos.chavezcontreras.71?fref=ts

Mix & mastering: Gustavo Gustavo Adolfo Chavez Reyes www.criterioestudios.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Contents

Dazed Love

Carmen & Cuba

Barrio Lanus

From the Closet to Dictatorship

Oslo & Thanatos

Intercultural Neurosis

Five months and Five years

Struggle for Survival

07MH17

Kat Town

About the Author

Dazed Love

Nuria García Arteaga

Published by Nuria García Arteaga at Smashwords

Copyright © 2014 Nuria Jiménez Ramírez

Pucallpa 193, Brena, Lima Cercado, Peru

Author: Nuria García Arteaga

Editor: Gladys Nuria Jiménez Ramírez

http://www.nuriawriter.nl

Cover design: Chris Van Velsen (chrish2k@hotmail.com

http://www.velsingdesigns.deviantart.com

Author music prologue & epilogue: ‘A quien ire’, Luis Enrique Espinoza

Featuring: Juan Carlos Chavez Contreras

https://www.facebook.com/juancarlos.chavezcontreras.71?fref=ts

Audio Prologue y Epilogue: Nuria Jimenez Ramirez

Mix & mastering: Gustavo Gustavo Adolfo Chavez Reyes www.criterioestudios.com

Fotografía: Nuria Jimenez Ramirez,

Dazed Love is a translation of ‘Novedades Literarias’ that received the Gabriela Mistral award at Santiago, Chile in 1982

Hecho el Depósito Legal en la Biblioteca Nacional del Perú No: ISBN: 9781311203724

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

But you arrive, silent lover,

Elusive voice of the neglected,

But you come…and my voice

covers every corner,

To mantle your nakedness with shadows.

Verbo de la tierra (Word of the Earth) - Raúl Mellado Castro

https://soundcloud.com/gladys-nuria-jimenez-ramirez/dazed-love-novedades-literarias-literaire-nieuwtjes

I met you in July. Lima bore a constant grayness and a biting cold that made everything feel depressing. It was neither rigorous nor pleasant. My days were dark, slow and monotonous. In the morning, after cursing my blandly ordered and impersonal life for the thousandth time, I took place behind my desk and faced the visitors with a smile that torn my soul because all I wanted was to hide and cry.

The newly arrived books had been placed orderly in the shelves, when you entered. The reflection of your image hit my retina and a kind of shudder, or pheromones as they call it, had already invaded me.

The newly arrived books had been placed orderly in the shelves, when you entered. The reflection of your image hit my retina and a kind of shudder, or pheromones as they call it, had already invaded me. You asked me, with a blissful smile, if you could appraise some books. The stupid look on my face and my stutter betrayed me when I told you that the shelves were marked to simplify your search.

You turned and disclosed your upright body, broad shoulders and the locks that stroked your strong neck. Your imposing, resolute stride allowed me to inhale a virile fragrance. I felt something intense while watching your legs moving with swiftness and how your hands firmly held a large new book. My body shuddered as I imagined that you could take me in the same way.

For endless months I waited anxiously your sporadic and irregular visits to query for a new title. At the end of January, you asked for the most recent book by Silvina Bullrich. I promised to have it within fifteen days.

… ‘These lines are to tell you that I truly love you. I would do anything you ask me without hesitation. The separation is driving me crazy, I ask for nothing and wish to give you everything. Forgive my eagerness, what I feel for you is something new for me. I can’t live with this despair. Please call me. –Sabrina.’ Fernando smiled, crinkled the note and, with a smirk of contempt, threw it in his office trash can…

I closed the book. The story was cruel, ruthless, but the reality was even worse than this novel. The more love we gave, the more indifferent the response. If it could be different, just for one time.

I had only five minutes left before closing the library. With a little luck, I would find a place in the Yellow Pub, on the corner of Larco Avenue and the pier. To watch the sea while enjoying a drink was one of my weekly little pleasures.

I removed the blouse that covered my dress, and exposed my naked shoulders. Outside there was no air conditioning and I would feel on my skin the twenty-nine-degrees heat. After straightening my hair, I gazed on the window and could see the reflection of my tanned neckline and back.

I was sprinkling on my neck some drops of Shalimar when you opened the door. I neither considered nor wanted to cover my skin. While walking to the shelf with new books, the closeness of your body bashed me. I knew your stare was fixed on my back and on the mole right in the middle. Your aroused breathing, when I grabbed the book you wanted, made me remember Fernando’s cruel smile as he threw away Sabrina’s letter. For a second’s fraction, I knew that we were too close, when suddenly turning, your skin would touch mine and I gave a damn on all of it. In your eyes I saw a hazy look, your long eyelashes concealed your gaze. Those hands that handled so many books firmly gripped my waist. You caressed my back, my hair, and I do not regret my loss of self-control.

Blurred images of your red Fiat, a department with Persian carpets, embroidery pillows of Nepal and eclectic art works are printed in my mind surrounded by the echoes of Dionne Worwick’s voice whispering: I Know I’ll Never love this way again, so I Keep falling on before the good is gone.

Without saying one word you offered me a drink, after watching me drinking it at once, you wrapped me in your arms and we made love slowly, passionately for many hours. That long and turbulent February night is still engraved in my brain and heart and it is all I have of you.

Literary novelties arrive continuously but you have