Siete minutos by Ismael Camacho Arango (the little red hen read aloud TXT) 📖

going to do?” he asked.
Lola cried. “I don’t know, father.”
Father Ricardo had to exorcise the bad spirits around her, but Lola wanted a termination.
“Don’t tell Homer,” she said.
“It’s our secret,” he said. “You have to pray now.”
Lola begged for Jesus Christ to solve her problems before the end of time, while Father Ricardo took confessions from other people.
“I want to abort this baby,” she muttered to herself.
She didn’t want to be a mother to Satan’s progeny and prayed to stop her anger.
“Jesus Christ,” she said. “I’ll be a nun if you help me.”
She remained in the church as thunder disturbed the peace of the world.
“It must be Armageddon,” someone said.
Lola sat in the pew, hoping the weather stopped punishing her for having bad thoughts. The sun shone in the park, and the sky appeared blue when she ventured outside later, even if God didn’t like her.
She didn’t want the stranger in her body to see the light of day as a few children playing in the pavement disturbed her concentration.
“Can I have a coin?” a voice said.
A little boy with freckles looked at her from the pavement. Lola thought she had seen him before, when her dreams had taken her to other lands inhabited by the creatures of nightmares.
“I’m in a hurry,” she said.
The sun had gone up the sky after the storm had dampened the city. As Lola moved along the street, he child followed her through the market. He must have thought she had some money.
“Go away,” she said.
Lola lost him amidst the people doing their shopping. He had to be a gamin living in the streets.
“Two and two are seven,” she heard someone saying.
Lola had to be going mad after all the problems she had in her life. On arriving home, she tore the numerous cards Homer had sent her and threw his pictures in the bin.
“I don’t want to see that man again,” she said.
Lola’s mother thought the girl’s rich boyfriend might take them away from poverty, while witnessing her rage through the house.
“You have done this before,” the woman said. “Can you remember the sergeant, the policeman and the young lawyer?”
Lola shook her head.
“Mother, Homer is evil.”
She dumped the piece of coconut he had given her after throwing his pictures in the bin. It wasn’t a present fit for a rich man. Then Lola jumped from the sofa onto the some of the mess on the floor.
“Are you pregnant?” her mother asked.
Lola nodded before dissolving in a flood of tears.
“The witch doctor will get rid of it,” the woman said.
She witnessed her daughter’s madness, as she jumped from the kitchen table after taking castor oil.
“One of your lovers might marry you,” she said.
Lola climbed up a ladder they had to get to the ceiling. She had to lose the foetus, before it caused more damage to her life.
“You’ll kill yourself,” the woman said.
Lola didn’t want to die because of Homer’s baby, even if she had look at the child’s face all her life. She phoned the sergeant, who commanded a battalion of bullies in the barracks.
“Can you meet me outside my job tomorrow?” She asked.
“You have your rich boyfriend,” he said.
“I’ve finished with him,” she said.
The sergeant appeared as she left her job next day, wearing his uniform, his medals shining under the sun.
“I have missed you,” he said.
As they moved down the street, Homer waited in a corner, looking smart in his best suit. He wanted to conquer the girl’s heart, after the disappointment of the previous day but then he saw the sergeant’s face full of hate.
“I don’t know you,” Homer said.
“You do now.”
The man left a purple mark on Homer’s cheek, damaging his ego. He had to safe himself from crazy people, who wanted his girlfriend.
“She’s mine,” Homer said.
“We’ll see,” the sergeant said.
He aimed for his nose this time, sending Homer into a land of darkness, surrounding him forever.


A hero’s farewell
It rained that night. Homer heard thunder rumbling through the world as the heavens spoke of Armageddon, and the tree of life shook under the wind. His nose had swollen and a few of his teeth had loosened, when the sun showed his face the next morning.
“A madman has attacked me,” Homer tod Miguel.
“Shall I call an ambulance?” Miguel asked.
Homer shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
He had wasted his money in silly things for a woman who didn’t care about him, a tragedy for the man who wanted to conquer the world.
“She might have been pregnant,” Miguel said.
Homer paused sipping the cup of tea his employee had brought him. The thought of having a baby when he wanted to have lots of money, made his blood boil but she should have told him something.
“He could have been called Homer,” Homer said.
“You’ll forget about it.”
“I won’t.”
Miguel put the newspaper he had just bought on the table, showing them the headlines: seven widows and their children had drowned in the slums.
“I didn’t know,” Miguel said.
“You can’t read.”
As Homer’s body trembled with the shock of the news, he tried to understand what had happened during the night amidst the rain and thunder. This tragedy meant the end of the world he had known since his childhood, where everyone loved and respected him. He could go to jail for his incompetence, as the widows and the Indians had only brought him pain.
“Everyone must have died,” Miguel said.
Homer remembered the woman bringing him love while the children played with the rats in the mud. They had to be alive. Tears ran down his cheeks, as he thought of them fighting for their lives amidst the river of death.
“I have to go away,” he said.
The world had been at war for a few years, it was called a war world and Homer’s old country had been invaded. He had made some money from the Indian heads, the widow’s pain and his boats, but could this invasion be another business? He had to try his luck in another place, as Amelia appeared in the shop. Homer had not noticed the child in the place with all the problems of the day.
“She’s obsessed with the army,” Miguel said.
She shouted: “One, two, one, two...”
Homer would have to earn his money somewhere else in the world, in order to forget the widows and the Indians.
“I’m going to New York,” he said.
Miguel shook his head. “I see.”
“I’ll leave you in charge of my business,” Homer said.
“What about Maria?”
“She doesn’t love me.”
Homer had to be tough, even though the girl had brought him happiness in his life.
“When will you come back?” Miguel asked.
“I don’t know.”
Homer promised to increase his wages, if he looked after the shop for the sake of his family.
“You’ll have my telephone number wherever I go,” Homer said. “Or you can wire me.”
Miguel kept the card his employer had given him, while Homer made arrangements to support the child born at the dawn of his life.
“Don’t go, Uncle Homer,” she said.
“I’ll look after you forever,” he said.
He had to leave the country where he had lived since his infancy.
“You must write to me,” Amelia said.
Homer nodded. “I’ll do that.”
He would remember that conversation in another time, lost in the predictions of a few people where everything ended in confusion.
“What will I tell everyone?” Miguel asked.
“I died.”


The voyage
Miguel and Amelia were miles away as Homer found the ship waiting for him in the port the next day. The city had been replaced by the sea, the horizon and the seagulls flying around as Cesar talked nonstop.
“Mr. Homer,” he said. “We were expecting you.”
Leading him through the corridors, he gave orders to anyone on sight while touching his balls, wet with the excitement.
“We have all the home comforts,” Cesar said.