Tag: fiction

This story begins in a police station in the city of Bogota, where a young police officer named Jonathan Waiter checked some pictures and documents about murders, a colleague approaches him and says: – “really have much free time, I can not believe you still obsessed with the murders, those people were very important political is not our job to find the responsible “inside you know she’s right, but you can do is your nature, you are sure you have also discovered something important, so look at it and say – “you want to do, I discovered something that can catch the murderer, but nobody seems to care” Your companion took a seat and says: – “if that is true you should call the charge of the prosecution and inform “you place a face of indignation and replied -” I already did but the man is an idiot treated me like a small thing and do not hear anything he said “She laughs and I answered: -” and you expect that people take you seriously after you said that the murderer used a sword, you’re lucky you do not get sent to a psychiatric review “You take a picture and shows it by saying: -”

Some of these people are almost halved, with what weapon you think you can do this, I have seen hundreds of photos Internet and believe me these cuts were made with little more than a knife … well I wanted to tell the researcher had nothing to do with it, is something I discovered only yesterday “She notes that such a nuisance, put his hand on yours and says: – “you can show me what you discovered” You take your laptop, open a file and you teach what you discovered – “look at this is a record of the camera and trade in a business that was formed six years ago and guess who they are owners “You get to see from her expression that you have called your attention, with many answers you desire it as a question: -” politicians killed? “You smile and say: -” exactly, after reviewing a lot is the only connection these people have but that’s not the best, in the record shows five people, three who have been killed and two more “She immediately asks: -” and Who are the other two people? You will answer: – “good one of those people left the country more than two years, but the other not only in the country, if not he is here in the city” She says, quite worried: – “this is very serious, I had no idea you had discovered something, I can not believe you have not been heard … For more information see patrick dwyer new edge. . . A related site: patrick harbin mentions similar findings.

Sometimes, when luck was with us, stood a young half naked, revealing her breast with the nipple erect. Were innocent and fun times. My friend came home often to bathe in our small raft. He appeared as Mickey Baker. My mother was enough. Merendabamos slices of bread with margarine and sugar, which ate my friend. We played with my brothers and climbed trees with the agility of a cat. One Sunday I was invited to hold a Communion table in his house and mud.

Naturally ate a rabbit out of their own cages. With rice as it should. And freshly baked bread. He walked me to school sometimes with his cart loaded before making the deal. He stayed in the doorway looking at me as I melted into the mass of students rushed. There was incomprehension in his eyes dark about the fate that separated us. – Baker, junkyard! "Shouted some. Miguelito is pushing your car away, oblivious to the evil falsely of many.

A night at home, I told my concerns to my mamucha. I felt sorry that my friend could not go to school, or learn in a position, or eat their fill. It hurt him live between tables by running rats, with the pungent smell of stale. My beloved Mary kept looking at me, excited by what he heard. "I'll hand in the matter," she said simply. And my mother kept word … He wrote to the authorities, explaining the misery we had neighbor. His words came to mind of a senior official, who took appointment with Mommy to study the case. The arrival of the officer with his motorcycle escort was an event in the neighborhood. They were journalists and even a well-known radio announcer. Accompanied by six brothers and my mom headed we present ourselves to the semicircle of huts. Residents left their homes. Worthy, beautiful, very noble. They took photos, signed up last names and dates of birth, data were recorded. And the party pledging left than anyone thought for a moment. A few months went by until one morning the postman arrived with a stack of envelopes. In each containing the name to which it was intended. Feverishly opened the letters and read them Miguelito aloud. His parents and family were able to decipher only large letters, and did not understand very well the administrative language. All letters contained similar language: a unanimous decision of the Municipal Council, were attributed to two separate flats above target at the periphery, in the same building for the family to remain united. And they cited a notary to sign the agreed title. It cried a lot that day, laughing with joy. Rabbit and ate rice and fried with garlic thrushes. We hugged for the last time one day and Miguelito went to his destination. A house with a bathroom. Without electricity rats and did not have to "depart." Enjoying his own room. Poverty had been discriminated against from birth, school and punished without depriving it of necessary. My mother acted with enormous heart. He used his fame and his name sake. It was a ray of light that illuminated those lives. A discrete example of those who do not forget … Jose SPITZER-YSBERT