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

skin and by the time we went outside, breakfast had finished. Homer held hands with a blonde girl.
“Good morning,” he said. “Would you like a drink?”
I had a headache from the alcohol I had the night before.
“I prefer an orange juice,” I said.
My duchess did a few backstrokes in the pool, before floating in the water like a nymph under the rays of the sun.
“She’s beautiful,” I said.
Homer nodded, looking a bit tired after all the fun we had the night before, while my duchess dried herself with a big towel. She must have forgotten her sun cream or our star had more power today.
“It’s a beautiful day,” she said.
I nodded. “I love you.”
Her tongue searching for mine, we had a long kiss full of saliva and germs. I hoped nothing would end the best day of my life as one of the sailors came towards us.
“Jaramillo wants to see you,” he said. “It’s important.”
“I’ll be back in a moment,” I said.
Nodding, the duchess sat next to Homer. I had a last look at them, before following the sailor towards the lower deck, where I found the journalist in Chucho’s cabin, the chimpanzee’s fur looking untidy.
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
He must have lost his sanity whilst stepping on the books piled on the floor. Then I remembered that word from my school days by the market.
“He’s found it,” Fifi said.
“What has he found?”
“The end of time,” she said.
“I don’t understand.”
The chimpanzee’s short legs bent every time he jumped on the bed like a yoyo, while shouting strange words. Some more books fell at my feet, dust rising in the air like an eruption around us.
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
“Stop him,” Fifi said.
I held Chucho’s long arms but he escaped as Jaramillo ran after him. I wanted to know why he had gone back to his wild state, forgetting everything he had learned during the years.
“Eureka,” he said.
“Anything might happen now,” Fifi said.
“That is nonsense,” I said.
I saw words in another language in the pages on the bed. They couldn’t be dangerous, but Chucho ran with his knuckles on the floor.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said.
Chucho screamed, waving his arms in the air. A few more people had come in the room, alerted by the noise.
“He’s excited,” I said.
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
As we followed him along the corridor, I thought he had tried some of Homer’s marihuana or perhaps L.S.D. Then he climbed up the mast, his small body framed against the sky.
“Eureka,” he said.
We saw lights floating amidst the clouds, bringing confusion to the yacht. Homer loved improvising a show when we didn’t expect it and must have started another round of fireworks to entertain us.
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
A mantle of fog had descended over the world in the best display of fireworks I had ever seen. Homer was a genius as the sky erupted in many colours amidst the clouds, and stopping the rays of the sun from coming to us. Then one of the sailors appeared holding a radio.
“You must listen to this,” he said.
We heard the presenter talking of a world in chaos: “Astronomers think our star might explode as a nova. The word means new, because a star appear in the sky, where nothing was there before. If this is true, we have an alarm to transmit all over the world. The communication satellites have disappeared that’s why we have put together all the radio stations while asking you to remain calm.”
People took cover in the rooms below deck, as Homer tried to reach the mast where Chucho rested amidst the fog.
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
“Tell me what you know.”
“Eureka.”
“I’ll give you lots of money.”
Chucho screamed, sliding down the pole.
“According to the latest news, the sun is pulsating,” the presenter said. “Our star has more energy than its size requires but we must keep calm. Most of the victims have happened because of panic. The authorities have decided to shut the churches in Bogota, where many people have died and the rest of the country must do the same thing.”
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
I thought of the tribe living throughout the ages, before a stranger had killed them in the name of coca.
“Look at the sky,” Fifi said.
I saw lights dancing in the heavens, the waves rocking the ship up and down.
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
That word didn’t mean anything amidst the panic and the fear. Whatever thing Chucho had found wouldn’t take away the lights away.
“The country has awoken today to a rare phenomenon, caused by the sun pulsating, according to the experts. Many people have died in the confusion but you must keep calm.”
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
The voice in the radio urged us to keep away from the sea, while the world around us collapsed in a symphony of colours.
“You must stop this joke,” I told Homer.
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
As my duchess held my hands, everyone went mad and the sky roared in cosmic tones.
“This is a farce,” I said.
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
The seven minutes
“This is the national radio with the number one news at the moment,” the presenter said. “It’s raining in Bogotá. Attention! An electric storm has developed over the city, with rain and hail.”
It also rained on the yacht, thunder echoing around us, wisps of light playing above our heads.
“It’s the end of time,” Fifi said.
My duchess couldn’t take her eyes off the sky, excited by the beautiful colours drifting like a carrousel on fire.
“Can you see that?” she asked.
More dancing lights were in the horizon.
“Marihuana, L.S.D or heroin never gave me such sensations,” she said.
“I know.”
“Homer won’t tell us how he prepares the cocktails,” she said. “It must be an oriental mystery.”
“He wants to frighten us,” I said.
We wondered what could be happening to the world while drinking alcohol to calm our nerves.
“We give you an extraordinary bulletin,” the presenter said. “The sun will explode in a nova. The word means new, because a star appears where nothing was there before.”
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
“I knew it,” I said.
I wrote amidst the fog and the lights, while the voice in the radio told us to be
“We’re navigating by radar,” he said.
He conferred with Homer for a few moments, the lights dancing in the sky like a carrousel of fire. He must have hired another boat in order to give us the best spectacle I had ever seen in my life.
“Look at those colours falling over the clouds,” my duchess shouted.
I saw a fountain of blue light, evaporating slowly like a Christmas decoration amongst the fog.
“It has crashed with the arch,” I said.
“It’s superb.”
“Where is Homer?” someone asked.
“We want the formula.”
That man is a witch.”
“A fat sun is rising over there.”
“Don’t bite me.”
“Hurrah to our host.”
“The captain is a cynic.”
“You’re mad.”
“What’s the name for that?”
“Where’s my cup?”
“Wait for it to finish.”
“If you kiss me ten times, I’ll tell you.”
“Has anyone seen my glasses?”
“Let’s dance.”
“Hurrah to the party.”
“Hurrah to Homer.”
“Eureka,” Chucho said.
The fog had thickened, hail falling over the world.
“Something bad is about to happen,” Homer said.
We heard more news on the radio.
“You have to lie down in a safe place as I say the words: we have seven minutes,” the presenter said. “That is when the explosion of the sun will reach us.”
“You pretend the sun ends in a nova,” I said.
“What is a nova?” Fifi asked.
“This is a conspiracy,” I said.
“I don’t understand,” Fifi said.
We had some more L.S.D, and I drank a bottle of wine in my duchess’s arms, the arch of fire spreading around the heavens. I enjoyed the spectacle