This is a story I wrote Invista the publication of a collection of short stories by writers who publish through the site www.lulu.com. It 'a collection that is the theme of children .....
On the threshold
How difficult to get Grandpa! Knees shaking, thought you mist. I feel the smell of cologne, you smell mixed with hours disinfectants, antiseptics, crap .... From here I see only one side of your bed, swelling of your legs that shape the folds of sheets, where you kept me on my knees while read me stories, while telling me about your childhood, your life, and war. Did you finish fight: against hypocrisy, against injustice of the just against bullets that you tried but you do not have ever found to after all, thankfully .... But now you're still fighting a losing battle from the start, in which no one can help. I feel your breath, suffering, rhythmic, panting, coming up here and I would return it, because extreme stress might be fulfilled, because the chains that bind you and you only did you break into that heaven that you have prayed so much ... I do not know grandfather, I have only 10 years, but I do not know the fate of the prayers I know that my not have been heard. I have asked many times to stand beside Thee for ever and I feel that now you are stealing something to me, I understood how my mother told me to come and see you today, the effort to suppress a lump in my throat that now seems to smother even my breath .... Now, I stop to breathe so you will be more than happy to let me join. Here's grandfather now I try ... ....
Nothing, something prevents me from going any further, lungs bursting with desire to live and I can not not obey .... That anger was not even able to win yourself! Maybe they are not yet big enough. Maybe win yourself is the hypocrisy of adults, their greatest achievement and its greatest curse ....
Nobody has even noticed me: my grandmother and mother to be by your side, I can not see from here, just a few whispered phrases and tired of the mess medicine told me of their presence. I can not get my grandfather, I can not unrivet these legs from this threshold. What a coward I am. Selfish coward. When I needed you you were there, with a word, a pat, a story, a look and I? Now you're going to go away and I can not say goodbye .. Need my grandfather? What do you do with a kid who cries and despairs for you? What does my presence here? Why must you die? Why do people die?
Where is now your youth, your voice, your breath, the tar yield of cigarettes smoked, the hair of dogs that have toyed with the scent of the linden trees that have accompanied you in the country, keep your hands to the market ? Where now rests this tangle of love, pain, sorrow, smiles, sweetness, grace?
What imbecile who are struggling you are only a few meters from me and I am already Reminisce? I am a coward, a stupid coward .... Crush the ants and kill at every step by pretending that it is normal and natural and I do not have the courage to take a step and go knowing that her grandfather is dying ... I rincitrullito movies, cartoons, books, fairy tales , cartoons in which death was always present and now he comes, he is attacking the grandfather are not even able to reach out to tell him I'm here? But where I am? And where are you now you Grandpa? Your legs shake occasionally swaying under the sheets, but you're not here, not only .... You're never in one place, you're never finished, and you never get over ....
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