Footsteps

       Around 11.00 O’clock p.m., in a dark evening, with no moon, no stars, I was coming back home after a long and exhaustive day of work, walking along a dark street and, apparently, desert. The silence was loud. It would be possible to hear pins dropping on the ground. But, suddenly, I heard some footsteps. Strong and hurried footsteps, as if they were trying to reach someone.

       I looked back, the noise paused and I saw nothing. I continued to walk, a little less slow by this time. And the noise of the footsteps restarted. What would that be? I was not even a bit curious to find out. I hurried. And the hidden footsteps followed my rhythm. I ran. I didn’t know from what I was running away, but something told me that I had to run as quickly as I was able to. The footsteps did the same thing. I shouted.

       I got to run even quicker. That street seemed to never end. No cars, no houses. Only the footsteps and me.

       I stopped for a second, breathed in and tried to hear the footsteps. I didn’t need to try that much, they kept firm and increasingly hurried. What would that be? I wondered once again. But the footsteps were getting closer. I wouldn’t be able to keep the rhythm any longer. I teetered, stumbled several times, but I knew that I couldn’t stop. The noise was louder and louder, stronger, closer. The footsteps had reached me. So, suddenly, I fell off my bed. And woke up!

Lianderson Ferreira

Um Anjo Caído

            Bem... Em primeiro lugar, eu sou a narradora e você nunca saberá quem eu sou, você não precisa ver meu exterior para conhecer profundamente o que eu sou por dentro. Eu vou te contar uma história sobre um anjo, um caído, para ser específica. Não se preocupe, ele é caído, mas ele não é nem um pouco mau! Você deve estar se perguntando "por que ele é caído se ele não é um anjo mau?" e, agora, você deve compreender que amor intenso também pode tirar você do seu caminho e isso não é uma coisa ruim. Do começo:

          Miguel não era muito alto, na verdade, muito baixo... olhos minúsculos, seu tom de pele era dourado e brilhante como a cor dos seus olhos, ele seria um anjo normal, se ele não tivesse aquelas grandes e belas asas que podiam levá-lo para qualquer lugar que ele quisesse. Mas a coisa mais importante sobre ele é que, além da beleza, ele estava sempre concentrado em algo bom, ele estava sempre tentando encontrar seu amor, ele não queria algo ou alguém para chamar dele, ele queria algo ou alguém para preencher seu coração bom e vazio e é aí que a história começa...

           Era um dia normal na vida dele, ele estava voando ao redor e conhecendo pessoas novas até o momento que ele viu uma bela garota, mas ela não era como as outras que ele já tinha visto, aquelas bochechas vermelhas e aqueles olhos o pegaram tão facilmente quanto roubar um doce de uma criança. Ele não poderia deixá-la ir sem falar com ela, ele tentou se aproximar várias vezes, mas a garota não notou o anjo e isso fez Miguel perceber que a moça não estava bem, que ela não estava protegida, ela precisava da atenção dele.

          Ele a seguiu por quinze dias consecutivos e ele descobriu que ela estava sempre se metendo em problemas e que ela tinha um lugar secreto, um lugar aleatório com árvores e areia; ele também encontrou uma maneira de contactá-la: ele deixava uma parte de sua pena todos os dias que ela estava lá, mas ele sabia que, fazendo aquilo, ele perderia sua vida como um anjo e se tornaria um humano e foi isso o que aconteceu. Sua queda foi tão grande que ele também perdeu seus poderes, portanto ele era um anjo caído sem nenhum poder, ele poderia ser visto mas não poderia ser sentido... Então, ele era aquele que precisava de alguém para ajudá-lo; a garota, pela primeira vez, sentiu a presença dele e o ajudou.

          Com isso, ele aprendeu uma lição com ela: ele nunca precisou de um amor para vê-lo, ele sempre precisou de alguém para sentir a sua presença.

Esse conto foi escrito por uma das minhas alunas, Rebeca Bivar,

como forma de avaliar o uso da língua para expressar

os seus sentimentos de uma maneira criativa.

Clare

Clare is an intriguing girl who I met during one of my trips around the world; she has dizzying eyes which have mesmerized me since the first time I saw her. Maybe she is ten or eleven… I am not sure about her age, but I can say that she does not seem to be only that age. She has an unbelievable wisdom and knowledge that make her soul a hundred years more experienced. She has a white skin,  long black hair and a curious smile that is always on her face.

I met her when I was coming back to my hotel after a walk at Youghal beach, in Ireland. She was sitting at a small square playing with one of her dolls and suddenly she stood up and started staring at me with a curious expression.

- Hey little, what are you doing here? – She asked me. I was surprised with that attitude and it took me a few seconds to respond.

-Oh, little? – I smiled -  I’m coming back to my hotel!

- No, you don’t understand my question, what are you doing here? –She repeated with a smile.

- Little, what do you mean by this? – At that moment, I was very confused.

-You know, I'm sure. I'm wondering why you have travelled so far to find something that you can find within yourself – She looked at me quietly and gestured at me to sit by her side.

-What I’m looking for? – She continued to play with her doll. After a long time in silence, she stared at me again with those eyes that mesmerized me and answered quietly.

- I felt some emptiness inside you since the first day you arrived in this town. I tried to figure out why. I couldn't see anything but a lonely soul looking for a place to be in peace. Actually, before I saw you, I felt that I was committed to show you a way to find this peace. – She picked up some sand, smiled once again and threw the sand in a small pond. – Come see the magic, little! - I got up quickly and got down on my knees next to Clare. – Do you see the magic?

- Sorry, but I can’t see anything unless water and sand.

-That’s your problem, you’re always looking for peace, but you don’t understand that peace is in everything that can be in harmony with nature. See… - She repeated what she had done before. – Look through the water, even with the unexpected visit of the sand grains, after some time, it manages to suit its calm rhythm again. It's all about acceptance, the water is in peace because it accepts whatever comes, good or bad. When it accepts, the intruders become part of its reflection. - I watched the water while she sobbed. When I looked at my side, the little girl had gone, leaving only her doll near the small mound of sand. After some time processing what had happened, I got the doll and saw that it was written: "belongs to Clare”...

Without a doubt, Clare was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I’m saying this because in a few minutes she created inside me an outstanding feeling and she gave me the way to find my peace by myself. She brought me more than everything and somehow she taught me how to see the things with other eyes, maybe dizzying eyes…

This short story was written by one of my students, Maryna Viana,

as way to evaluate the use of  the English language

to express her feelings in a creative way.