excerpt
know how to feed the bucket with more wood. Alone in the wretched
house two lonely souls in a world full of people and yet full of loneliness,
cold and scared as the clouds track swiftly across the vast sky
as if fleeing from the tempest, as if it wanting to shroud the boys in
funereal garments before their time.
Their mom has gone to the fields with her sister Rubie to find
something for their dinner. The rain drips around the window frame
and runs slowly down on the wall to the floor, which is already
soaked for a meter or so under the window. The house is cold. Smoldering
ashes are the only remnants of heat from the bucket their
mom filled and lighted before she left. Eteocles has eaten the piece
of bread she gave him, but Nicolas still holds his half-eaten piece in
his hand. The two brothers stand next to each other and watch the
bands of rain pouring down, creating watery walls against the hillside
opposite their window.
They are cold. They are hungry. The rabbits are hungry too. They
hop from one side of the house to the other hunting for any fallen
scraps of food, but none are anywhere to be found. As Nicolas and
Eteocles absentmindedly look outside, mesmerized by the rain, one
rabbit sneaks up close to them and suddenly, with a small hop, grabs
the bread from Nicolas’s hand and runs to the corner where the rabbits
have dug their den a few feet into the floor. Nicolas starts crying
not only because he has lost his bread but also because his finger is
bleeding. He is terrified looking at the blood coming from his middle
finger where the rabbit’s eager teeth have punctured. Both boys stare
at the bleeding finger and Eteocles starts crying too, not knowing
why but as if he has to keep up with his older brother or as if they
feel better when they both do the same thing.
This is how their mother finds them when she comes back a little
later. Quickly she puts her things down and cleans Nicolas’ hand, wrapping
the tiny wound with a piece of clean cloth. With the same speed
she brings wood from the back of the kitchen and restarts the fire in
their bucket. Soon the area around the bucket is warm and the boys sit
there, extending their small hands until they are warm and toasty.
Meanwhile their mother dresses the few wild asparagus stalks
she has gathered and boils them hurriedly.
Libros Libertad 