Saludos, apreciada comunidad de writing club, hoy comparto con ustedes un cuento corto escrito por mí, espero les guste.

La traducción al inglés la dejaré al final del texto. Saludos.

Greetings, dear writing club community, today I share with you a short story written by me. I hope you like it.

I will leave the English translation at the end of the text. Greetings.

It had been a long journey. I was leaving part of me behind; however, I was sure of the road ahead. I was no longer willing to put up with such submission and mistreatment. That day I was on my way back to my hometown on the old coastal highway, in a second-class bus, with no air conditioning and seats like stone. I was silently grateful when the man sitting next to me got off at Curiepe. I could stretch my legs and rest my ears from his loud preaching.

I was finally able to fall asleep, an intermittent and fleeting sleep, which I had found increasingly difficult to achieve for months. And yet, there it was again, that painful tension, that phantom bite in my back that prevented me from resting. During that time the painkillers and the wear and tear of insomnia kept me in the middle of two worlds, constantly torn between sleep and wakefulness. I never knew if I was half asleep or half awake.

It was already three o'clock in the afternoon. The intense sun was filtering through the branches of the trees that formed a vegetal arch over the road. A little jump from the bus and she was awake again, was she awake? I didn't want to open my eyes, that play of light and shadows projecting on my closed eyelids comforted me. I saw things. I was dreaming stories. I was sweaty. Thirsty. Hungry. Exhausted. Panting. On the run.

I am brunette. Queen I am. Guinea I am, Miná raised. Cimarrona I am. Only the trees and the birds accompany me. The wrists of my hands are marked, my bare feet, broken, my back still bleeds. A hundred lashes with a whip blessed by the bishop, for refusing to share a bed with the master. Thirty-one lashes the caporal counted when José Fulgencio, my man, went at him with death burning in his eyes and hands. He had made a promise to Nzambi to bless the child he carried in my womb and that animal was going to kill him.

"Figth like a lioness if they should touch a hair on your head," said old Canshé, the only one who still remembered the old songs; "use tooth and nail, defend life; you are queen Miná, Guinea, free. No stone will be left upon stone where your blood and that of your descendants will be spilled, at the end of time Bilongo's justice will reach them and the thickest chain will turn to dust on your skin. The snails spoke, The Mother spoke."

José Fulgencio jumped madly carrying a stone he got right there and hit him so many times that that sour and battered face dissolved into a mass of blood, flesh and bruised bones. When he turned to let her go, she was gone.

I could run no more. I ran to the end of my strength. I stopped in the middle of that deserted place. I lay down under a tree that gave good shade. I closed my eyes. My back was pounding, I was thirsty, hungry, sweaty, panting. I felt the wind on my face from the coast. In the distance I could hear the dogs, but I didn't want to open my eyes. Lying there I discovered the play of light and shadows on my eyelids, I saw things, I remembered stories of my old home. I was so exhausted, I just wanted to sleep. This time I would not survive, I had to escape, they are coming for me, they will not catch me anymore. Morena I am. Queen I am. Guinea I am, Miná alzada. I am Cimarrona. Only the trees and the birds accompany me.

When the searchers and their dogs arrived where the trail of blood had led them, there was nothing more than some dirty ropes, an old dress and a blue butterfly fluttering and naive before the barbarism, it entered the bush.

The vehicle stopped. I opened my eyes. Finally, I arrived at my destination. It was a long trip, I was on my way back. As I waited for the bus to empty so I could get off, a blue butterfly came through my window. I set foot on my new destination, took a deep breath, looked to the sides, felt safe, realized that the bite on my back had stopped, I felt liberated.