lunes, 30 de abril de 2012

Mary-go-round (Chapter Two)

By: Carla Sierra Arzuffi

Chapter two: Our little secret

I dont know how long I stood there, completely frozen, I was in shock, but must of all I was trying to figure our what old Tom was talking about. In a weird way, the letter made sense to me, I was destined to know more, that something, but I wasn't sure what that was. I knew there was something hidden in the letter, something that only I could understand, my mind was racing trying to swallow all the information. But most of all I was scared. I was scared for me: old Tom said that "they" were going to find me. I was scared of knowing the truth: because once you know something there is no turning back. And last but not least I was scared for my dear old friend: Where did he go? Why? Had something bad happened to him? Was I ever going to see him again?

I kept reading the same line over and over again "The answers can be find in the most obvious of places", and then it suddenly hit me, of course, his books. The first thing I did was I took the box of matches that was placed at his mantelpiece and I burned the letter. His words were quickly consumed by the orange and yellow fire. When I was done destroying the evidence I approached his bookshelf, I don't know how, but I knew the answers he was talking about were to be found in the books that he loved so much, that I loved so much.

My eyes scanned the hundreds of books, a title popped out, "The fair of the deceased" again I don't know how, but I knew that was the book.

When I was 15 old Tom had let me borrow this book, he told me it was one of his favorites, and it quickly became one of mine. What was so amazing about this book was not only the fantasy and unexplainable things that happened in the story, but the characters, so unusual, so unhappy, and to me: so real.
We didn't discussed this particular book, like we used to do with the other books he had lend me, but I remember his face when I returned it to him 3 days later after I had borrowed it, I placed it into his hands and said "I loved it, so much, too much", he smirked at me, and winked. And that was that, we never talked about it, even though I always wanted, and it was like it was our little secret, this book of unhappy deceased people unable to run away from a fair, where they where trapped, forever.

I took the book from the shelf and I carefully opened it. The book was the same, and at the same time, it wasn't. Something was different, at first I could not tell what  it was, but then I noticed. It was not the book that had changed, but me, I could now notice the most obvious and special thing in the book.
The author.
"The fair of the deceased" by Thomas Cavagthar.  
The book was written by my friend, old Tom.

To be continued.....

Im talking advantage of the very appreciated free days that Im having from work to return to my writing habits, hope you like it,


jueves, 26 de abril de 2012

Salinger in my heart.

Do you guys know who Jerome David "J. D.Salinger is?. 
You have to know!, ok, if you don't know I can forgive you. 

He was a writer and he wrote the most amazing novel of all time (well, its in my top ten), and its called "The catcher in the rye", I have a special spot in my heart for the main character Holden Caulfield, maybe because he is an (extremely) magnified "me", and I can relate to many of the things he thinks, says and does. 
Well, the whole point of this ramble is because I absolutely love Salinger and this particular creation of his mind. Here are some of his quotes with some drawings I made. 

Hope you like it.
Salinger in my heart forever. 

martes, 24 de abril de 2012

Tolkien, The Beatles, Cat Stevens and Nietzsche

Just some of my favorite quotes and lyrics ( by men I love:  Tolkien, The Beatles, Cat Stevens and Nietzsche) with drawings, 

Why not?

lunes, 23 de abril de 2012

I want, and need, and want and need, and want and need and.......

Beware: Its "one of those entries

I am one of those, the kind-of person that wants to visit a huge extent of this place we call planet earth. There are so many places I want to see, touch, feel, smell (lick). Some are a specific city and others are countries that hold so much beauty that you can´t narrow it down to one single place, Im absolutely sure that I left out many of other places that my heart desires, but here are some I would like to share with you.
Why? Just because. 





New York

New Zealand 




Such lovely, exciting, unusual and interesting places- I want to see them all, badly- (and more....)
Have a great start of the week and all.
All my (jumpy and anxious) loving.

sábado, 21 de abril de 2012

Mary-go-round (Chapter one)


By: Carla Sierra Arzuffi

Chapter one: Tea and letters. 

I am at my favorite cliff, I love the breeze at this time of the day. When everything is calm, and I feel like its just me in this world. I take a deep breath. I know I have to go back soon, they will be expecting me, I cant hide, even though I have tried, I am bound to this place.
Many times I wished that I could run away, disappear into the mountains and never look back, I would if I could, but I know I cant, its not that simple. Nothing in life is that simple. No one here can disappear that easily, actually, no one can disappear, at all.

We all know each other, its a small town. The "perfect, clean, mowed, everything-in-its-place, joyful, lovely town". Everyone smiles and says pleasantries to one-another . We all have tasks to do inside the community, a special role to perform, and you are expected to do it with a smile in your face and a cheerful attitude. I often think and wonder if Im the only one that wants more, that this constant routine of creepy continuity of cheerful men and woman is all there is.

When I was in junior high I had to do an assignment for my "Politics 002" class. I compared our town with the smurf village. Like the smurfs we were also always joyful (actually I think we are on the edge of starting to sing while we work, that la-la-laralala song) we all have a role, and we have the elders, like the smurfs have Papa smurf, to really on, on "difficult" times. There were so many other details, I thought that my assignment was well researched, interesting and kind of funny. The school board didn't like it, at all. They didn't think it was funny to compare ourselves with mythical cartoons, blue creatures, and I quote them "Thats disgusting", oh but they said that with a smile.  Always with a smile.

I was scolded by them, my parents, and my sister was very unhappy ( in a weird have- to- keep- the smile) with me, "You are running my status" she said. My sister is perfect at being perfect. Everyone likes her, everyone wants to be her friend. It is very annoying, but in the end, she is my sister, and I love her despite our huge (very evident) differences.

The problem with happy people is that I don't trust them, and that´s a problem because I am surrounded by them. Something in my gut is telling me "run Mary, run, get away".
There is only one person in town that I truly, honestly 100% like. And that is old Tom. He is considered weird, that is probably why I like him this much, and why he likes me, because I am also considered weird. Whenever I can, I visit old Tom, he doesn't come out that much. His house is perfect, as it should (MUST) be on the outside, but on the inside it is kind-off messy, it makes me feel strangely comfortable. When I visit him we sit in his dusty sofa and drink black tea. We talk about  almost everything, except, oddly enough, we don't talk that much about our town and the people in it.

Old Tom has never been married, he works at the library, he loves music, books and tea. He told me once that he felt genuinely happy and relaxed reading a book while he listens to music and drinks tea. He is so, not complicated, in a good way, thats why I really enjoy spending time with him.

As I head back home I think of the things I have to for the day, which are trivial things, I am no longer in school, and I wont be starting my job until the end of August, having almost nothing to do freaks me out. I like to keep busy, thats why I keep making this "To-do lists" in my head.
Its probable thats this is because reality is not good enough for me, so I have to continue doing things to distract myself of my distaste for my life. Since I have been thinking of old Tom I decide to go buy a couple of bagels at the "Happy bagel palace" (Im not kidding, this is the name of the store) so we can eat them while we drink tea.

Half and hour later I am standing in front of old Tom´s house with a bag of onion bageles with cream cheese. I ring the bell. Nothing happens,. No one answers. I ring the bell again, and after a couple of minutes waiting I start to get worried. Old Tom is almost always at his house, specially at this time of the day. I try ringing a third time. Again, silence. I walk around the house and to my surpirse the back door has no lock, so I let myself in.
"Tom, are you here?" 
The silence chills my bones.
"Tom, its Mary. I have bagels" 
The only sound I can hear is the one my boots make on the carpet.
 Everything looks messy and dusty, as always.
I climb the stairs and look inside old Tom´s room. He is not there.
I go downstairs again and enter the living room where we have our usual soirees.
Its empty. My breathing is loud in my ears, I cant explain why, but I know something is wrong, it just does not feel right. As I approach the coach where old Tom sits I notice there is a sheet of paper on it. And it has my name. I pick it up.

My dearest Mary: 
I know you are the first one thats going to notice that I am gone. I expect you to find this. First I have to apologize because I haven't always been honest with you, there are some heavy secrets I have been keeping, I couldn't tell you before because I was afraid of getting you involved. I cant write everything here because its dangerous, and as soon as they find out you know something they will come find you. I know you must be confused, but the answers can be find in the most obvious of places. I wish I didn't have to put this on your shoulders, but there is no one else I can trust, you are smart and different, and I know you are meant to know this. Maybe you will be able to do something, because I couldn't, I failed. I expect you to find the answers,
 Im sorry, 
Be smart, be safe. 
Your friend, 
p.s.: Destroy this letter. 

To be continued.....

Im happy to be writing again, I have been so busy, I hope I can write as often as I used to.

martes, 17 de abril de 2012

"The tynooza finite" (Epilogue)

My dearest imaginary readers: 

I have to tell you some terrible news, and come clean about something.
Tyler Nooza, our dear character from the "Tynooza Finite" story, well he is an actual person, yes, he is real. He had been sending me his story and with what he told me, I wrote what you have found in this place, blog, world, whatever...
 His real name is not Tyler Nooza, I cant tell you how he is actually named because that would be breaking our (his and mine) confidential agreement. I have to protect my supernatural friends.
So with that said, here comes the horrific news.
Tyler Nooza, the boy that could not die, is dead.
I am in complete shock (as Im sure many of you will be) but I am guessing that his evil sister Amanda finally found a way to dispose of him forever. I do not know how her dark, sinister, vile mind works, but she found a way around the survival power of her brother and she destroyed him. I don't know the specifics, but I do know, for a fact, that he is dead. Finite.
So, you will not be reading more about this amazing boy, I am so sorry, I never thought this could happen. But I hope all of you will remember him, full of life, blushed cheeks, running on a field of daisies and laughing happily along Lancelot (I think this is the appropriate time to  tell you that Lancelot is also dead).
I know thats how I will remember him.

Rest in peace my dear friend. 


Ps: Amanda, you bitch, I will find you, and I will avenge the dead of Tyler (and Lancelot), I will destroy you, I will have my revenge, be afraid, be very afraid. MooooooooooOOOOOOOAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! 

He knows, I know.

A reader lives a thousand lives

 before he dies...The man who never

 reads lives only one.”

― George R.R. Martin -