“The Traveler” by Pilar Gallardo

06 May
The Traveler

Cover design by Pilar Gallardo


  If ever the beauty should take shape to express themselves, might well do so in the perfect silhouette of the man who was in front of her. He didn’t have the appearance of a teenager, but his face radiated cheerfulness and freshness of absolute and rowdy youth. His appearance was a man about twenty eight years old, maybe a few more, but its perfect constitution tended to mask them. Following the lines of his body could make you losing the sense of the reason. He wasn’t robust but his appearance denoted a strong and healthy nature, with broad shoulders and considerable height and arms clearly turned. Short hair, dark blond tone and tangled like velvet soft, stood thick and bold leaving the forehead exposed broad and clear. Perfect line that crossed his face forming a sharp heart in which a little shameless lunar exhibited shamelessly perched on his left cheekbone, in a clear act of provocation and lust. He had bushy eyebrows that were just a harbinger of the grandeur of what was beneath them, two dreamers and mesmerizing blue eyes topped by a range of tabs perfectly delineated. Pupils raging sea of blue, warm, comfortable and inviting you to let go, drowning in the excitement they caused. In his disturbing and incredible tour as splendid figure, could not overlook just perfect nose and lips. To say they were perfect it was almost insulting. Everything about him was unmatched but his mouth went beyond the limits of pleasure known for her until then. Exquisite and sexy, masterfully delineated and hid rosy even lower their sinful ways. White teeth like ivory tusks and sharp incisors slightly hurled him the most bewitching of smiles.

Eugene Lawrence. That was the name that was presented. This man of singular beauty was actually a traveler but not an ordinary one who roams streets, cities and countries, visiting museums, exotic shops or flea markets. The book was a traveler and also a family tradition. Being told as a child, with just ten, his father had passed on their knowledge and powers that allowed him to move through the leaves of her beloved books like a body without form, without solidity, as a tiny particle in space. He learned to appear on sheet two and jump and quietly crept to twenty-three. Now, already a man, had been curious to know what your body is transformed when traveling inside the books. So he had put in front of a full length mirror that was in an old train station with the intention of finding out. I always thought it was a strange place for a mirror, maybe that’s why he had chosen. The station was deserted. That train people used it mainly bound for their work but it was Sunday. Any given Sunday. He didn’t feel the change of his body when was traveling. Just thought about the book he wanted to travel and if he decided to visit a specific page, then read the number in his head and saz!, There he was. I felt no pain, only a slight tingling in the fingers but was aware of your body, as we know, disappeared and got caught in the folds and curves of each letter. But only sorry and all this was so fascinating and surprising that needed more. Needed to see.

He stood in front of the mirror with a book on the magical legends of Scotland in the hands. Maybe it was not a very appropriate book for this experiment but without risk there is no emotion. Carefully placed the book on the floor in front of the mirror and thought on page thirty-two told the story of the curse of the blank sheet. Always fascinated him the crystalline wickedness of that extraordinary Scottish legend. He thought thirty-two over and over again until he saw as the tall thin body reflecting the mirror, disappeared, lost his corporeal form and was transformed into a kind of thin thread of smoke blackened like coal. With such way, he was totally surprised that keep intact all human senses in perfect condition and coordination. He listened and saw with unusual clarity all around, his sense of smell was so sharpness like a predator. He felt more alive and more human even without being the man he used to see reflected in the mirrors. The thread of smoke which had become hung in the air like a snake dancing to a hypnotic music. The traveler was ready. His mind went back to last view page thirty-two and suddenly the snake stopped trickle reflected in the mirror. He was not there. He had already made ​​the trip.

He felt the thrill of speed while he ran across the page like a suicide. What if you could not stop? I always wondered the same thing. He crash into a capital outstanding or an exclamation would cut off the way. But that was a minor problem. The reason that caused the round to give non-stop with his human heart so fast that I could hear his heartbeat everywhere was none other than the page thirty-two. Why did he decide to choose that number? How could he have just gone to a blank page?!

Surely a print defect had placed it there. He didn’t know that existed until now, even when he read the book for the first time. Surely it had passed into the next sheet. He tried to calm down. The excitement of all it had fired his adrenaline. Nothing would happen if it weren’t the three o’clock. So says the legend, if three o’clock find a blank page, your heart will stop beating.

He lost track of time. Just remember having been around for a long time prisoner of that page and listen fearing three o’clock. All I felt was a huge and sudden jolt, like an earthquake between pages that shot out of the book.

And there was Eugene Lawrence, opposite the woman who looked at him with awe and fascination as he related his adventure. He realized that she had her hands full of fine cuts that would not stop bleeding. And with the other held tightly the hands of the clock that existed only in the train station.

She had managed to stop it at least five three o’clock p.m.


2 comentarios

Publicado por en mayo 6, 2013 en Short Story


2 Respuestas a ““The Traveler” by Pilar Gallardo

  1. marian395

    mayo 6, 2013 at 9:52 pm

    Reblogged this on marian395's Blog and commented:
    Añade tus pensamientos aquí… (opcional)

  2. thelastislandblog

    agosto 8, 2016 at 6:33 pm

    Reblogueó esto en The Last Islandy comentado:
    My sister wrote this short story a time ago. I think it’s very good. Hope you like it too.



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