#noveleta

- Funerales de hombres raros. Wenceslao Bruciaga. 

Una novela dividida en dos noveletas que se complementan entre sí. Cada una gira en torno a un funeral, o más bien en torno a la ausencia de los muertos. En el primero, situado en la Ciudad de México, un triángulo amoroso homosexual termina con el suicidio de uno de ellos, y lleva a los otros dos a enfrentarse a su propio egoísmo. En el segundo, situado en Torreón, Coahuila, Teo (por descontado el narrador del primero relato) vuelve a su ciudad natal para hacer un ajuste de cuentas con el pasado, con su desalmada abuela —pero con poco realismo mágico y mucho humor macabro. 

Bruciaga nos ofrece otro libro con su delicioso estilo contestatario y desafiante. El primer relato, aunque excelente en su manejo de personajes, palidece un poco ante la contundencia del segundo. la disolución de una familia a la vieja usanza destroza todo tipo de clichés tanto literarios como comunales. Y como cierre un final inesperado pero no como sorpresa-vuelta de tuerca argumental, sino como toma de conciencia de todos los protagonistas. 

En fin, una obra deliciosamente subversiva, consecuente con lo que ha sido hasta ahora la obra de Bruciaga, tanto literaria como ensayística. 

so this was inspired by seeing lots of posts about vampires living average lives and helping how they could with their ability not to die and all. so i made this. And i would really appreciate if people helped me improve my writing with some tips. :]]

Joe was not one for confrontation. So when he walked out of a burning school building unscathed and looked at the horde of teachers and cops and police officers he dropped the three kids he had rescued, or rather the LAST three at that, he looked to his left and shot to the forest and bucked it back to his caravan, dodging left and right to stop from hitting into trees. Years of practice had him dodging like it was a simple math’s equation.

He slowed at an opening in the woods an looked at his home, an old rusted white carravan, he walked toward it and when he was three paces away he stopped reached down and placed his hand on a magical symbol known as a sigil to release the holograph spell and like that the old rusted caravan turned into a beutiful countryside cottage,  one bedroom a huge livingroom and a lab in the basement fully equiped with a bathroom, he walked up to the front door and re-aplied the spell. Joe walked upstairs rubbing his pale skinny neck and ruffleing his singed dirty green hair, he opened up the door to his room and stcrached the stubble on his chin and just before flopping down on his bed he removed his coloured contacts to reveal very red eyes.

Now while our protagonist is sleeping let me tell you, the reader, that our little vamp isnt like normal vampires, instead of this god fearing, in-sun burning, salt hating, satan worshipper, we have a normal guy with superpowers, a garlic alergy and magical abilitys who can turn people into vampires who are. Now dont go thinking alls well and good for our little man, because its not, it never is, hes cursed with red eyes wich means that for an Ancient One[AO] like him he cannot feed on the blood, but the life force of people. This posed a problem for the first 1,045 years of his life as he was new to being a vampire, because he was of course one of the first few, and so could not ask his bloodthirsty brothers and sister for help to survive with his, UNUSUAL problem to say the least. So here our hero lies conflicted, age like a human or kill them to never age, on one hand he wouldnt die of old age rather his magic would keep him stable so that he lived enough to grow moss on his shoulders and become one with his chair, on the other he could absorb one persons soul each month live forever and watch as the world around him died. Joe woke as his alarm went off he shook his head and looked at the time.

‘‘Crap…I’m late...’’ he said tired eyed and slumping out of bed, into a padded white 6 by 6 room’’…wait a sec…’’ Joe said turning around in a circle and realizing he was much further from his cottage than he remembered’’…I’m unemployed’’

He wandered around the room a bit, there wasnt much to see beside a leather chair, a holy cross on the wall, a garlic ring hung from the front door, a toilet and of course tthe bed and bedside table. Suddenly overly extrordinary lights turned on above him. For the average everyday joe this wouldve made them wince but Joe wasnt your average everyday joe he was an ancient one with ancient transformative abilitys so to avoid any confrontation, just like the old storys of dracula turning into a bat, Joe turned into a tiny two centimetre Amphithere, or in more simple terms a snake with wings, and fluttered about a bit before realising two things:

1] He has no idea what to do now

2] He has no idea whats going on

A voice came out of no-where booming’’Are you Albert McLoy, the magician of many names who has lived over two hundred years?’’

‘‘no’’ The little creature squeeked and, feeling rediculos, he changed back and said more sternley,’’No I am Joe one of the Ancient Ones Third born of satan and master of the arcane arts your defences have no affect on me, mortal’’

‘‘Effect, and cool ‘cuz you look really boring anyways so imma just send you back home now’’ the voice seemed less threatening now and more inviting like a surfer-dude.

‘‘Oh…ok…thanks’’ Joe said making an awkward thumbs up around his head before he re-appeared back in his room and, not realizing the quick differentiation in pressure, spewed all over his wooden flooring’’Weird’’

In the morning he got up tiered as all hell and got dressed in an Urban Pirate t-shirt and black jeans  before puting on a Black leather overcoat a red scarf and a tophat. He ventured out of the woods, his black leather boots crushing into a ribcage of a small rodent.

‘‘Weird’’ He said his face curling in on itself in confusion’’Nothing is meant to die in this medow’’ He picked up the ribcage and his hands lit up and blue flames encompased the ribcage and finally a squirell popped out unscathed and hopped away into the forest happily.

Joe headed back to the schoolbuilding no doubt in his mind that the police were looking for the cause of such a massive fire and were just itching to get a perp in cuffs. So Joe investigated rummaging through the ruins calling to his arcane powers when need be and found the source. The basement. It was dank and dingy with the smell of burning bodies.

‘‘Hello brother’’ The voice was of a child it was cool and flowed like velvet around the air.

‘‘Sister,’’ Joe said almost suprised he sounded happy and outstreched his arms as if she were right there in front of him’’How long has it been? seven, eight melenia?’’

Smoke gathered and solidified infront of him. His sister had the fetures of a 14 year old girl, she was the most ruthless and bloodthirsty of the five of them having killed her first human as soon as she was released from hell and earned the respect of their father quickly.

‘‘Hello brother’’ she repeated’’ what is it youre doing here’’

‘‘Nothing much’’ He raised his hand to her throat and it glowed bright white and hot ‘‘If you move ill kill you’’

She froze speechless and almost nodded. She may have been ruthless but Joe, Joe was smart, he wouldnt hesitate to kill her if he thought she would give herself an advantage.

‘‘So’’ he said reaching into his coat and pulling out three pictures ‘‘do yo know who these kids are?’’ His red eyes peircing her soul finding the awnser.NO.

‘‘Ok you can go’’ he lowered his hand and gestured to te door to the basement’’thats all i needed’’