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!"