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I'll get back to theme days once I find a groove of posting regularly. In the meantime, most of my posts are about some variation of books, bikes, buses, or Broadway. Plus bits about writing, nonprofits, and grief from time to time.

This blog is mostly lighthearted and pretty silly. It's not about the terrible things happening in the world, but please know that I'm not ignoring those things. I just generally don't write about them here.

14 December 2010

A Spanish Story

I wrote this story for an in-class composition for Spanish class, decided I didn't want it going to waste, so I published it on Facebook in Spanish. However, the majority of my FB friends (and, I suspect, blog readers) are not Spanish speakers and therefore couldn't benefit from my mad storytelling skills. ;)

I'm actually really proud of this story, because I wrote it directly in Spanish. For my essays, I generally write in English first and then translate to Spanish (because my Rhetoric brain wins over my Spanish brain pretty much every time; I have to get the ideas down in one form or another, and English is the easiest way to do that). But since this was a fiction story, and my first Spanish writing since I was in high school, I was über-happy with it. And I got an A on it, which is always a bonus.

So I translated it to English to share with you.

I was in the house by myself on my free day from school. The previous night, the family had watched some DVR-ed crime dramas, so I had all the lights in the house on. The morning passed normally: I got up, ate breakfast, got dressed, and then I watched some DVDs.


I was watching a funny movie when I heard a noise from the second floor. I paused the movie and listened for more noises, but there weren't any. I restarted the move, muttering "My imagination!" to myself. Once again I heard a loud noise. "It's the wind," I thought, "it's knocked something over in the bedroom. The window is open." I paid attention to the movie again, although I was starting to feel a little nervous. Suddenly, there was a slam! from the second floor. I stopped the movie and thought rapidly. I couldn't blame my imagination this time; the door from one of the bedrooms upstairs had slammed. Someone must be in the house with me.


What was I going to do? My parents were at work, and so were the neighbours, and I knew that there was no one who could help me. I picked up the phone and called my mom. She didn't answer, so I left a voice mail: "Mom! Please call me! I think there's somebody in the house!"


I dropped the phone and looked for something to use against the bad guy in the house. I saw the fire extinguisher in the corner. Yes! I could use that! In the movies, the hero was always using a fire extinguisher against the bad guys. I picked up the extinguisher and thought about how it was a lot heavier than the extinguishers in the movies; those always looked like they didn't weigh anything.


With the extinguisher, I went upstairs silently. Just like in the movies, I stopped next to the bedroom door. I listened for a minute; I didn't hear anything. Carefully, so no one could hear me, I took a deep breath. Then, with my eyes open wide, I rapidly opened the door. Slam!


Nothing happened. I tried to shout, but my voice didn't work. I tried again; I shouted, "Who's there?" There was nothing; no noise, no one jumped out of the room. I waited with a pounding heart. Suddenly, my phone rang. Mom! But I couldn't do anything; the bad guy was hidden in the bedroom and I was afraid to move in case he saw me. I hoped that Mom would call the police.


I watched the part of the room that I could see carefully. No one was going to surprise me. I heard a quiet noise--I got ready to swing the fire extinguisher-- and something rubbed up against my legs. It was the cat!


The stupid cat. The cat had gotten into the bedroom through the window, knocked over a picture on the night stand, and closed the door. All the noises were the cat!


I set the extinguisher on the floor. I closed the window in the bedroom and then made sure all the other second-floor windows were also closed. Then I picked up the cat and scolded it all the way down the stairs, before tossing it out the door and shouting, "And don't come back in!"


I called Mom, but she was already on her way home. Fortunately, she had not called the police. We didn't need any more drama.


Once Mom got home, I told her the whole story. She said, "You aren't watching any more of those crime shows. You're getting too many bad ideas!"

8 comments:

Grandpa said...

I was worried for you there. Nice twist Su

Su said...

Thanks! I had to draw on my extensive crime-show-watching experience for this one. ;)

Unknown said...

That's a funny story! It's amazing what those crime shows do for our imagination.
CD

Su said...

Hee hee, yeah. I can't even go running after dark any more, thanks to Criminal Minds.

Timbra said...

impressive! you can kind of tell it was written in another language, even if just inside your head

Su said...

I was trying really hard to put it into normal English, but I'm not that good at translating. Not even my own stuff, apparently. :)

a runners' life said...

Gotta love those crime shows :)
I'd be interested to see the Spanish version too.

Su said...

Oh, really? Cool! I'll post it, too, then. :)