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Mónica Bustos

Escritora paraguaya I Premio Augusto Roa Bastos de Novela Game changer en la literatura paraguaya Outcast en el plano internacional

enero 05, 2021

Dead Lion


Chapter I

Les trois figures (1904), Leon Spilliaert


    What do you need to be happy? What does anyone need? What do the others need?
    Through time: before, now or after, it is the same. Always the same. Even if time did not exist and all places were the same, desires would still exist. The usual ones.
    Heude Huheuh always had it all, he just never knew it. The only thing he deduced after several years of losing his parents was that he had nothing, not even wishes.
    Three siblings inherited a fortune, the greatest wealth of the town. No one could even dream of the assets of that family. Since Heude was the oldest of the three, he had to take responsibility for his siblings and his grand mansion from the first day he learned of the death of his parents. The mansion covered half geography of the rural area; to know which part belonged to them, you only had to divide the map exactly in half and it was the half that ended in an abyss, in other words, ended where emptiness began. They owned fields and forests, meadows and valleys, rivers and caves; and of course, that great mansion, bigger than any castle seen before.
    "Heude, when we die and our bodies spend many years under the ground, we will become part of the earth. Someday we will be so mixed with it that we will also be soil," Vanguard said.
    "My love, don't say that, you know that I believe in God, and that I believe that when I die I will not be on the ground, but in heaven," Enigma interrupted, touching the crucifix that hung from her neck.
    Vanguard was Heude's cousin, he was also his best childhood friend, in fact he was his only friend. Vanguard's father asked him to move in with his cousins so they weren't so alone, he was a year older than Heude. Cyclothymic and eccentric. Atheist and creative. If everyone wore gray, he wore yellow. As the local people were used to wearing short hair, they looked at him suspiciously because he wore it long to his waist. Unlike his cousins, he was very thin, but with good arms that were due to excessive manual work. He was an eager inventor. Another difference was the color of his eyes, they were black, like dead-end tunnels.
    Vanguard came from far away to support his cousins; he was accompanied by his girlfriend: the mysterious Enigma. A woman with strange behaviors. She was quiet, although sometimes she would lock in rooms to talk to herself. She was a vegetarian, slept backwards, walked slowly, spoke slowly, never laughed, and always prayed before every action. She was a believer, devout and obedient. She was also considered physically strange in that place, not because of her abundant curly red hair, but rather because of her exotic violet eyes.
    Heude was talking with his cousin about the beauty of nature and the delicious sensation of touching the ground with bare feet, when Vanguard interrupted him to ironize about the ground and death. He tortured his cousin with these ideas of total disappearance, because he knew he did not tolerate them.
    Heude and his brother Romantic had the same physical structure: extremely tall, broad shoulders and narrow waist. Although the first had an enviable nose (one may say that it was perfect, but what for one is perfect, for another is deformed) and hypnotic blue eyes that seemed to constantly reflect the ocean or the sky, it was the second who was the most admired by all the women of the town, even though his nose was large and his eyes of a more ordinary color, like hazel, close to honey. Perhaps his greatest weapon of seduction was the way he expressed himself, his husky voice and the pauses he made between words, or his ability to improvise beautiful compliments. His only goal was to meet the love of his life, and although he had fallen in love many times, he claimed that he had not yet found true love.
    And last but no least, Libertad, the youngest of the Huheuh family. She had just turned eighteen and still looked like a fifteen-year-old. Libertad always wore light colors, and slept with the doors and windows open. 
    Blond hair and hazel eyes, but her physical beauty was overshadowed by the luminosity of her innocence and kindness, attributes that emanated naturally, not because she was forced to do good, but simply because she was unaware of the existence of evil. And although this innocence that she projected was also perceptible in her brothers, in her it shone brightly.

Translated by the author

               Still in process                   

 This is a novel originally written in spanish and published in 2013. Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please support my work by sharing it, maybe we will get it published in English. -Mónica Bustos

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