Fiction: Apparitions (Apariciones) [EN/ES]

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English

Apparitions

The gray day wore on. The persistent rain fell on the mourners, and black clothing adorned the gloomy landscape, which extended over the tombstones of unknown names, silent witnesses of the new visitors who were now part of that place of eternal rest.

The priest said a few words. “Brothers, today we are gathered to say goodbye to our brother in faith, Harry. A great husband, father, and brother who today has departed to meet the Lord...”

The priest continued his sermon to the mourners, who continued to lament the loss of their loved one. The trees danced in the gentle icy breeze that chilled them to the bone, penetrating as deeply as the pain of parting.

Black umbrellas protected the mourners from the persistent rain that fell on the dark, sticky earth, which served to cover the cedar coffin, shiny and honey-colored, highlighting the wood.

The elderly wife, bent over by the inexorable passage of time, watched as the coffin descended into the hole dug by the gravediggers. Her eyes, battered by the years, shed tears salted by immense sadness, accompanied by a few sobs released into the heavy air.

Wails echoed throughout the cemetery as shovels covered the coffin with damp earth, hiding it from the view of mourners, who threw roses into the slowly filling hole. The cries grew louder as the gravediggers finished their work. Everyone knew it was the end of a life that had touched many.

“Come on, Mother. The rain will be bad for you.” Nicolai gently took the old woman by the arm.

Her face gaunt with grief, she lowered her gaze, her slow, weary steps accompanying her. She did not want to go back because she knew that saying goodbye was more painful, and she continued forward, arm in arm with her son. She prayed that this reality was just a fleeting illusion, but the icy wind was a reminder of the tragedy she was experiencing.

“Nicolai, take our mother home. Don't forget to give her the medicine and let her rest,” said his sister Susy.

“Don't worry, Susy.” Nicolai continued walking with his mother toward the car.

Susy disappeared into the horizon while mother and son continued their journey in silence, not a word passing their dazed lips, only gestures showing a rudimentary form of communication, but enough for them to understand each other.

The rain had stopped as Nicolai opened the door of the silver-gray car to help his mother in. The little old woman, with almost infinite patience, climbed into the space that smelled of spring flowers.

A short sentence broke the monotony. “Your father liked the rain.”

“I know, Mother.” Nicolai inserted the key into the ignition.

The sound of the engine broke the silence, and he began to move toward his destination. After a few minutes, they arrived at the wooden house, painted a faded yellow. The door creaked as it opened, as if welcoming them both.

Upon entering, they couldn't help but notice the brown rocking chair where the deceased used to spend his afternoons, watching life go by. Suddenly, the mother had a nervous breakdown and began to cry uncontrollably. Nicolai tried to calm her down, but she clung to that rocking chair, perhaps trying to bring him back.

“Calm down, Mom, please.” Nicolai hugged his mother tightly.

“Son, I won't be able to go on without your father's company.” The old woman continued to cry profusely.

“Let it out, Mother. You have the right to mourn the loss of your life partner.”

The mother grew tired of crying with her son and fell asleep. Nicolai carried her to the bedroom and gently laid her on the white sheets. He wrapped it to calm the cold that circulated through the house. He tiptoed around, almost as if walking on air, to avoid making any noise and disturbing her sleep.

Night was fast falling on that house full of memories. He walked through the living room and saw the rocking chair move. He took two steps back and fell backwards. He rubbed his eyes and wanted to run away, but a voice broke the silence in the room.

“Don't be afraid, Nicolai.” A specter bathed in bright light approached Nicolai.

“Who are you?!” the man shouted.

“I am your father, Nicolai.”

For some reason, Nicolai was no longer afraid, tears flowing in a pain that squeezed his throat. The father touched his son, calming him down, and Nicolai felt a great peace that calmed his anguish.

“Where did you go?” Nicolai sat on the brown leather sofa.

“I went to a wonderful place, where suffering does not exist and happiness is the food of all.” The specter stood next to Nicolai.

“Is it heaven?” he asked curiously.

The specter smiled and then said, “I have returned to tell you something.”

“Father, I'm all ears.” Nicolai stared at him.

“Your mother will soon be with me in this wonderful place. Take care of her for the rest of her life.”

Tears flowed down Nicolai's face again. “Don't cry, Nicolai. Life ends, and we must fly.” The specter floated and smiled. “Be happy and enjoy your mother, son.”

The specter disappeared, and Nicolai fainted on the couch. Then he felt a warm hand on his cheek, opened his eyes, and the shadow became clear—it was his mother.

“Mom, I love you so much.” Nicolai hugged the sweet old woman.

“What happened? Did you fall asleep?” His mother was surprised.

“I had a nice dream about my father.”

“Me too, son. He told me not to be sad and to enjoy you.” His mother hugged Nicolai. “And what did you dream about?”

“My father told me to take good care of you and enjoy you.” Nicolai smiled.

Nicolai took care of his mother just as his father had told him that night, until one rainy day in April, when she had to leave to be with her husband. Nicolai looked up at the sky and, for a moment, saw his two parents happy in that wonderful place.

The end

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Español

Apariciones

El día gris avanzaba en sus horas. La lluvia pertinaz caía sobre los dolientes y sus vestidos negros decoraban el lúgubre paisaje, que se extendía por las rucias lápidas con nombres desconocidos y que estaban allí como testigos silenciosos de los nuevos visitantes, que pasaban a formar parte de aquel lugar de descanso eterno.

El padre decía algunas palabras. «Hermanos, hoy estamos reunidos para despedir a nuestro hermano en la fe, Harry. Un gran esposo, padre y hermano que hoy ha partido al encuentro con el señor...».

El padre seguía dando su sermón a los dolientes, quienes seguían lamentándose por la pérdida de su ser amado. Los árboles bailaban con la suave brisa helada que se sentía en los huesos, penetrando tan hondo como el dolor de la partida.

Los paraguas negros protegían a los asistentes de la lluvia pertinaz que caía con dirección a la oscura y pegajosa tierra y servirá para tapar al féretro de cedro, brillante y con un bello color miel que resaltaba la madera.

La anciana esposa encorvada por el paso inexorable de los años, miraba como descendía el féretro hacia el hueco cavado por los sepultureros. Los ojos plomos maltratados por los años, soltaban algunas lágrimas salinizadas por la inmensa tristeza, acompañada de algunos sollozos soltados en el aire apesadumbrado.

Los lamentos recorrían el campo santo mientras las palas cubrían el féretro de la vista de los dolientes, y las rosas se iban intercalando entre la tierra mojada que llenaba aquel estrecho espacio. Los llantos se hacían más sonoros conforme los sepultureros terminaban con su trabajo, todos sabían que ese era el final de una vida que marcó a muchos y hará falta por el resto de sus vidas.

«Vamos, madre. La lluvia te hará mal». Nicolai tomaba suavemente del brazo a la anciana.

Ella con el rostro demacrado de tanto dolor, bajaba la mirada acompañando sus pasos lentos y cansados. No quería voltear a mirar a atrás porque sabía que era más dolorosa la despedida y siguió adelante del brazo de su hijo. Rogó porque aquella realidad fuera una ilusión efímera, pero el viento gélido era un recordatorio de aquella fatalidad que estaba viviendo.

«Nicolai, lleva a nuestra madre a la casa. No olvides darle su medicamento y dejarla que descanse», le decía su hermana Susy.

«No te preocupes, Susy». Nicolai seguía caminando con su madre hacia el auto.

Susy se perdía en el horizonte mientras madre e hijo seguían con su peregrinar en silencio, sin que ni una palabra saliera de sus aturdidos labios, solo los gestos mostraban una comunicación rústica, pero suficiente para entenderse entre ellos.

La lluvia había cesado en tanto Nicolai abría la puerta del auto gris plateado para llevar a su madre. La pequeña anciana con una paciencia casi infinita, subía internándose en aquel espacio con olor a flores primaverales.

Una pequeña frase rompió la monotonía. «A tu padre le gustaba la lluvia».

«Lo se madre». Nicolai metía la llave en el interruptor de encendido.

El sonido del motor rompió el silencio reinante y empezó a moverse hacia su destino. Después de unos minutos, llegaron hasta la casa de madera, pintada con un amarillo que se había opacado por el paso del tiempo. La puerta hacía un chirrido al abrirse como si diera la bienvenida a los dos.

Al entrar no evitaron ver la mecedora café donde el fallecido pasaba las tardes, contemplado la vida pasar. De pronto, la madre tuvo un ataque de nervios y empezó a llorar descontroladamente. Nicolai intentaba calmarla, pero ella se aferraba a aquella mecedora, tal vez intentando traerlo de vuelta.

«Cálmate, mamá, por favor». Nicolai abrazaba fuertemente a su madre.

«Hijo, no podré seguir adelante sin la compañía de tu padre». La anciana seguía llorando profusamente.

«Desahógate, madre. Tienes derecho a llorar la pérdida de tu compañero de vida».

La madre se cansó de llorar junto a su hijo y quedo dormida. Nicolai la llevó a la habitación y suavemente la dejó sobre las sábanas blancas. La arropó para que el frío que circulaba por la casa no la enfermara. Caminó en puntillas casi como pisando el aire para evitar hacer algún ruido y perturbarle el sueño.

La noche empezaba a caer raudamente por aquella casa llena de recuerdos. Se paseó por la sala y vio la mecedora moverse, dio dos pasos atrás cayendo de espaldas. Se sobó los ojos y quiso salir corriendo, pero una voz se escuchó en el silencio de la sala.

«No tengas miedo, Nicolai». Un espectro bañado por una luz brillante se acercaba a Nicolai

«¡¿Quién eres?!», gritaba el hombre.

«Soy tu padre, Nicolai».

Por alguna razón, Nicolai ya no tuvo miedo, las lágrimas fluían en un dolor que estrujaba la garganta. El padre tocaba al hijo haciendo que se calme, Nicolai en ese instante sintió una gran paz que calmó su angustia.

«¿A dónde fuiste?». Nicolai se sentaba en el sofá de cuero café.

«Fui a un lugar maravilloso, donde el sufrimiento no existe y la felicidad es el alimento de todos». El espectro se colocaba al lado del Nicolai.

«¿Es el cielo?», preguntaba curiosamente.

El espectro sonreía y luego decía. «He regresado para decirte algo».

«Padre, soy todo oídos». Nicolai lo miraba fijamente.

«Tu madre pronto estará conmigo en este lugar maravilloso. Cuídala lo que le falta de vida».

Las lágrimas volvían a fluir por el rostro de Nicolai, «No llores, Nicolai. La vida termina y debemos volar». El espectro flotó y sonrió. «Se feliz y disfruta de tu madre, hijo».

El espectro desapareció y Nicolai quedó desmayado en el sillón. Luego sintió una mano cálida en su mejilla, abrió los ojos y la sombra se hizo clara, era su madre.

«Mamá, te amo mucho». Nicolai abrazaba a la dulce anciana.

«¿Qué paso? ¿Te quedaste dormido?». La madre quedaba sorprendida.

«Tuve un bonito sueño con mi padre, madre».

«Yo también, hijo. Me dijo que no me entristezca y disfrute de ustedes». La madre abrazaba a Nicolai. «¿Y tú que soñaste?».

«Mi padre me dijo que te cuidara mucho y disfrute de ti». Nicolai sonrío.

Nicolai cuidó a su madre tal como lo dijo su padre aquella noche, hasta un día de abril lluvioso, ella debió partir al lado de su esposo. Nicolai miró al cielo y por un momento vio a sus dos padres felices en aquel maravilloso lugar.

Fin

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Source 1
Source 2
Source 3

Edited by Rincón Poético

The text of this post was originally translated from Spanish to English with the translator DeepL

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9 comments
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Dad-son meeting was short yet tremendously emotional. You put down the right words to picture this type of extraordinary experiences well.

Keep up the good work!

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Thank you for your kind comment. I'm glad it had that level of emotion; it's what I was looking for in that scene.

Excellent day.

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Well I like how disruptive the scene are...I could create a picture in my imagination

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Thanks for stopping by and leaving your kind comment. I love that stories have that imaginative effect on readers.

Excellent day.

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How beautiful is your story, for a moment I saw myself reflected in it, someday I will go to join my husband where there is only happiness. Have a happy afternoon

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Thank you for stopping by and leaving your moving comment. When we finish our journey through this world, we will reunite with all those who have passed on to the other side. That is our hope.

A hug, friend!

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