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Pseudónimo autora: Jane AUSTEN

The Magic Book I was walking through Ferrol and I found a book. When I opened it, suddenly the book started to shine so strong. I saw flashes ... a lot of flashes at the speed of light. I thought a wormhole appeared inside the book, it was the only possibility. The next thing I remember is an exotic, beautiful planet like a dream of fantasy. There, some humanoid received me and to my surprise they could speak my language. They told me that I had to return to my planet and warn people to read and write about poetry, science, narrative among many other genres because this is the way nations grow. Back to earth people was surprised by my story and then all of them began let their imagination fly to build a better world based on letters.

O Libro Máxico (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín de repente comezou a brillar fortemente. Vin desteios … moitos desteios á velocidade da luz. Penso que de dentro do libro apareceu un burato de gusano, era a única posibilidade. O seguinte que recordo é un exótico e fermoso planeta como un soño de fantasía. Alí algúns humanoides recibíronme e para o meu abraio podían falar a miña lingua . Contáronme que debía regresar ó meu planeta e advertir ás xentes para que leran e escribiran poesía, ciencia e narrativa entre outros moitos xéneros xa que era a forma de crecer para un pobo. De volta á Terra a xente sorprendeuse coa miña historia e entón todos deixaron voar a súa imaxinación para construír un mundo mellor feito de letras.


Pseudónimo autora: Virginia WOOLF

The Loveliest Dream I was walking in Ferrol and found a book. I opened it after looking for shelter on a rainy day. I started reading “Once upon a time…” It went on talking about this happy place I dreamed about. But I was actually there… It was a place I’d never been at. Time stopped. I was dressed as a princess and realized I was in a palace. I looked out of the window and the gardens were immense and illuminated by the sunset. I could only feel nostalgic about a past that I never had, but always imagined. In this surreal, old building I was happy. I remember I was sad, but it was a kind of sadness when I was happy to be sad. I got home and realized I’d been reading for hours. But it felt as if I had experienced it. Because nothing else was written in the book.

O Sono Máis Fermoso (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín, despois de buscar refuxio nun día chuvioso. Empecei a ler “Había unha vez…” Continuou falando deste lugar feliz co que soñei. Pero eu estaba realmente alí… Era un lugar no que nunca estiven. O tempo parouse. Eu estaba vestida de princesa e deime conta de que estaba nun palacio. Mirei pola xanela e os xardíns eran inmensos e estaban iluminados por la posta de sol. Só puiden sentirme nostálxica sobre un pasado que nunca tiven pero sempre imaxinei. Neste surrealista, vello edificio era feliz. Acordeime de que estaba triste, pero era unha tristeza na que me alegraba de estar triste. Cheguei a casa e deime conta de que estiven lendo durante horas. Pero pareceu que o había experienciado. Porque nada máis estaba escrito no libro.


Pseudónimo autora: Agatha CHRISTIE

A Nice Gift I was walking in Ferrol when a found a book. I opened it and I realized I knew that cover; I had been staring at that picture before, ages ago, when I was young, when life was flourishing. Just for one second, that printed image made me be aware about ageing, about life and death and time going by. That beautiful etching let me escape from Ferrol and my memories came back to me, and I saw you, as usually, with your curly hair, smiling as nobody else smiles, but you. What a nice gift for that rainy day! I closed the book and I opened my umbrella as it seemed to drizzle again. I was alone in the street, I looked around, I did not see you, and I did not see an appropriate place for leaving the book, but I needed to leave it behind. May be his former owner was near, may be his next owner, empty of memories was getting closer.

Un Bo Agasallo (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín decateime de que coñecía aquela portadiña; estivera ollando para ela antes, longo tempo atrás, cando era novo, cando a vida frolecía. Por un segundo, aquela imaxe fíxome tomar conciencia sobre o envellecemento, sobre a vida e a morte, sobre o paso do tempo. Aquel belo augaforte evadiume de Ferrol e voltaron os meus recordos, e vinte, coma sempre, co teu pelo rizado, sorrindo como ninguén sorrí, máis que ti. Que fermoso presente para aquel día chuvioso!. Pechei o libro e abrín o paraugas pois parecía que chuviscaba de novo. Estaba solo pola rúa, mirei derredor, non te vin, e non vin lugar algún axeitado para deixa-lo libro, pero tiña que deixalo atrás. Pode que o seu dono estivese preto, pode que o seu próximo dono, valeiro de lembranzas, estivese achegándose.


Pseudónimo autora: Charlotte BRONTË

Time Travel I was walking in Ferrol when I found a book. I opened it and there was a sparkle. Then I shrunk and a force inhaled me. Hence, the book fell to the ground. I opened my eyes, I was lying on the floor. I was wearing a military uniform and I was in a fort in the 1800s. A man shouted and soldiers grabbed their guns. I ran towards a position in a battlement. Some men and I pulled a metal chain which crossed the sea from another fort. Thousands of vessels were stopped in the estuary and bombarded. Ferrol’s army had protected the city. I fell asleep. Mysteriously, I woke up at midnight in the same spot where I had vanished. I was holding a book which I shut instantly. I decided to bring it to the EOI Library just in case someone would like to open it again.

Unha Viaxe no Tempo (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín houbo un escintileo. Entón, encollinme e una forza me absorbeu. Así que o libro caeu no chan. Abrín os ollos, estaba deitado no solo. Levaba un uniforme militar e estaba nunha fortaleza alá polo ano 1800. Un home berrou e os soldados colleron as súas armas. Corrín tomando posición nunha amea. Algúns homes e mais eu puxamos unha cadea de metal que atravesaba o mar dende outro forte. Centos de navíos detivéronse na ría e foron bombardeados. A armada ferrolá protexeu a cidade. Quedei durmido. Misteriosamente, espertei a media noite no mesmo lugar onde desaparecín. Estaba a soster un libro e o pechei de seguido. Decidín levalo á biblioteca da Escola de Idiomas por se alguén quixera abrilo outra vez.


Pseudónimo autora: J. K. ROWLING

Unexpected Relief I was walking through Ferrol when I found a book. When I opened it, I realized that for a long time I hadn’t found one. How had it ended in that place? On the cover you could read One Hundred Years of Solitude, written by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I thought I should read it, that could be the title of my life. Just at that moment, a familiar voice woke me up from my daydream. - We are going to be late-, it was Kiko’s voice, - The Soup Kitchen is going to close, and we won’t eat today. I thought he was right, and also there wasn’t another object of interest there for me, so I took my book and continued walking, but I wasn’t walking alone anymore that day. The reading could make me forget the cold that night. -I have to read it-, I whispered.

Alivio Inesperado (Galego) Camiñaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín, dinme conta que facía moito tempo que non atopaba un. Como é que acabou neste lugar? Na portada podíase ler o título Cen anos de soidade de Gabriel García Márquez. Pensei que debía lelo, ese ben podería ser o titulo da miña vida. Nese intre, unha voz familiar espertoume do meu aturdimento. - Imos chegar tarde-, era a voz de Kiko, - A cociña vai pechar e quedaremos sen comida hoxe. Pensei que tiña razón, e ademais non quedaba ningunha cousa de interese nese lugar, así que collín o meu gancho e seguín camiñando, pero xa non camiñaba só ese día. A lectura podería facerme esquecer o frío esa noite. - Teño que lelo, murmurei


Pseudónimo autora: Doris LESSING

Ana I was walking in Ferrol when I found a book. I opened it and saw a drawing of hopscotch court, with the phrase “To Ana, so that she deciphers the secrets of maths”. All the other pages were coded. It was a stormy night and in the Genomic Center Ana was typing her doctoral thesis. Lightning struck the building followed by a blackout and her smartphone started buzzing. It was Dr Sousa: “an awful plane crash has happened”. “I want you to be in charge of DNA analysis”. That night Ana was tossing and turning in bed, worried about DNA tests. “Decipher its code”, Roberto had said when she, secretely in love with him, had been awarded with the book. The next day she'd discover a spooky coincidence: Roberto, her teacher, was in the plane and both had matching DNA. I never knew anything else.

Ana (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín vin un debuxo do xogo da mariola, coa dedicatoria “para Ana, para que descifre os secretos das matemáticas. As demais páxinas estaban codificadas. Era unha noite de tormenta e no Centro de Xenómica Ana estaba escribindo a súa tese doutoral. Un raio caeu no edificio seguido dun apagón e o seu móbil empezou vibrar. Era o Dr Sousa: “houbo un accidente aéreo horrible” . “Quero que te encargues do análise de ADN”. Aquela noite Ana estibo dando voltas na cama, preocupada polos análises de ADN. “Descifra o código”, dixera Roberto cando ela, secretamente namorada del, fora galardoada co libro. O día seguinte descubriría unha espeluznante coincidencia: Roberto, o seu profesor, estaba no avión e os dous tiñan ADN coincidente. Nunca soupen máis nada.


Pseudónimo autora: Morgan PARKER

Love Never Dies I was walking through Ferrol and I found a book. When I opened it, it had a note: 'We'll meet at eight o'clock in the BlaBla café'. Since I was near, I entered and sat down to wait with the book on the table. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. At ten to eight, a boy approached me and stared at the book. He asked me if it was mine and I told him I had found it lying on the street. With a smile, he told me that he had met a girl online and since that wasn't very romantic, they had been exchanging notes in their favourite book -“Love never dies”- in that same café for almost a year. Yesterday, he had decided to meet her for the first time and see her, but he had lost the book and so he would try again next week!

O Amor Nunca Morre (Galego) Andaba eu por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín tiña unha nota: 'Quedamos ás oito no BlaBla Café' Como estaba preto, entrei e sentei a agardar co libro sobre a mesa. Nada parecía fóra do normal. Ás oito menos dez un rapaz achegóuseme e ficou ollando cara o libro. Preguntoume se era meu e lle dixen que o atopara tirado na rúa. Cun sorriso, contoume que coñecera unha rapaza por internet e que como iso era pouco romántico, estiveran intercambiando notas no seu libro favorito -“O amor nunca morre”- nesa mesma cafetería durante case un ano. Onte decidira coñecela por vez primeira e vela pero perdera o libro, así que tentaríao de novo a vindeira semana!


Pseudónimo autora: Caite DOLAN-LEACH

Lost and Found I went for a walk in Ferrol and I found a book, when I opened it...I could read in the first page: READ ME and next, something else below: Do what you read. I turned over a new sheet and I read: Carry me to the Lost Property Office, and then I saw wrinkled, dirty pages... as if it had been outdoors for very long. I closed the book and looked at it for a while: it’s very dirty, damaged, without shine and with a musty smell, an old book smell that I could notice without getting it close to me. On the cover, the place where the title should be was empty. Without thinking very much, I carried it to the Lost Property Office and I forgot the question, but... here it was, it was the same book, with clean pages, without wrinkles, with a new cover and with this scent of the new books when they have just left the printing house. I read more: “Go to the theatre” “Buy a pen” “Write” and on the last page: how do you read a story that you still haven’t written? The book slipped from my hands and fell down. Since then I go to the Lost Property Office every week.

Obxectos Perdidos (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín... puiden ler na primeira páxina, escrito con grandes carácteres: LEME e, de seguido, un pouco máis abaixo: Fai o que leas. Pasei a páxina e lín: “Lévame a Obxectos perdidos”; seguían páxinas engurradas, sucias, como de levar moito tempo á intemperie. Pechei o libro, e fiteino un intre: estaba mouro, murcho, sen lustre e cun cheiro a humidade, a libro vello, que podía percibir sen necesidade de achegalo a mín. Na cuberta, o espazo que debía levar o título estaba baleiro. Sen pensalo máis leveino a “obxectos perdidos” e esquecín o asunto, pero... Alí estaba, era o mesmo libro, coas follas limpas, lisas, coa cuberta intacta e con ese arrecendo dos libros novos que acaban de saír da imprenta. Lin un pouco máis. “Vai ao teatro”. “ Merca unha estilográfica”. “Escribe!!” E na derradeira páxina: Como queres ler un relato que aínda non escribiches? O libro esvarou das miñas mans, caendo no chan. Dende entón, volvo a Obxectos perdidos cada semana.


Pseudónimo autora: Mary ASTELL

Blank Space I was walking through Ferrol and I found a book. When I opened it, I saw with astonishment that it was a story about me. All my life was there, summarized in 12.053 entries, one for each day of my existence. My birth, 33 years ago, my first day of class, my troubled adolescence, my first love and my first disappointment, my university life, my father’s death, my first job, my wedding, my son... Everything was written down, everything. And now I'm here, sitting in this park, named after a queen, waiting for what is to happen because I've reached the last page and there's only room left for one last entry, one last day.

Espazo en Branco (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín, vin con estupefacción que era unha historia sobre min. Toda a miña vida estaba aí, resumida en 12.053 entradas, unha por cada día da miña existencia. O meu nacemento, fai 33 años, o meu primeiro día de clase, a miña turbulenta adolescencia, o meu primeiro amor e o meu primeiro desengano, a miña vida universitaria, a morte do meu pai, o meu primeiro emprego, a meu casamento, o meu fillo... Todo estaba alí anotado, todo. E agora estou aquí, sentada neste parque con nome de raíña, esperando o que teña que acontecer porque cheguei á última páxina e só queda sitio para unha última entrada, un último día.


Pseudónimo autora: Lorrie MOORE

Shivers I was walking in Ferrol when I found a book. I opened it and its pages were all blank. I decided to write something on it when I arrived home. After dinner, I went to my room and sat on the chair in front of the desk. I opened the book and, suddenly, an image appeared. I waited for a few seconds and I could distinguish two closed human eyes. I passed the tip of my finger over the picture and… Unexpectedly, the eyes opened! I threw the book to the other side of the room and ran off. When I calmed down, I went back to pick it up and throw it in a street container. The next day, I was walking to the School of Languages, crossing the same streets I did the day before, when I could not believe it… The book was there again.

Arrepíos (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín todas as páxinas estaban en branco. Decidín escribir algo nel cando chegara á casa. Despois da cea, fun á miña habitación e sentei na cadeira fronte ao escritorio. Abrín o libro e, de súpeto, unha imaxe estaba a aparecer. Agardei uns segundos e puiden distinguir dous ollos humanos. Pasei a xema do meu dedo por riba do debuxo e... Inesperadamente, os ollos abríronse! Tirei o libro á outra punta da habitación e comecei a correr. Cando me calmei, volvín para recollelo e tiralo ao lixo na rúa. Ao día seguinte, ía de camiño á escola de idiomas, cruzando as mesmas rúas polas que pasara o día anterior, cando non o puiden crer... O libro estaba aí outra vez.


Pseudónimo autora: Lucy GORDON

Lines of a First Love I was walking in Ferrol when I found a book. I opened it and I saw a poem with a signature and a date at the bottom. As soon as I read it, I realized that it was the poem I had written to my boyfriend when I was sixteen. It was amazing to have come across this book twenty years later. All the good memories flooded back to me. He had been my first and only love. Immediately a question came to my mind. If he had been keeping the book for so many years why was it now beside a rubbish bin? A shiver ran through my body! Was he alright? I needed to find the answer. Then, I remembered that I still had his phone number in a diary. So, I headed home, longing for him to be alive.

O Meu Primeiro Amor (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro, cando o abrín, vin un poema de amor cunha sinatura e una data. Axiña que o lin, advertín que era o poema que lle escribira ao meu mozo cando tiña dezaseis anos. Foi sorprendente achar este libro 20 anos despois. Todos os bos recordos volveron a miña cabeza. El fora o meu primeiro e único amor. Entón xurdiu unha pregunta. Se gardou o libro durante tantos anos porque agora estaba a carón do contenedor de lixo ? Un calafrío atravesou o meu corpo ! Atopábase ben ? Eu precisaba unha resposta Entón lembrei que aínda tiña o seu número de teléfono nunha axenda. Daquela, dirixinme a casa desexando que el estivese vivo.


Pseudónimo autora: Charlotte GRAY

The Beginning of our Story I was walking in Ferrol when I found a book. When I opened it I thought about how important it could be for the one who had lost it. It seemed and ordinary book but I´ve always enjoyed books. They had accompanied me in the difficult, sad and also lonely moments of my life. Maybe that book was a gift from a lover, a memory of a trip or the inheritance of a beloved one. I opened it and saw a name and an address on the first page. What luck I had! It´s near here! - I thought. I crossed the street, walked a few meters and knocked on a door. A young man opened it. -“I have come to give this book back to you. I found it in the street”-I said He looked at me and replied: -“I know. I left it for you. I've been waiting for you for a long time”!

O Comezo da nosa Historia (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín pensei no importante que podía ser para a persoa que o perdera. Era un libro corrente pero a min sempre me gustaran moito os libros. Tíñanme acompañado nos momentos compricados, tristes e mesmo de soidade da miña vida. Quizais aquel libro era un agasallo dun namorado ou namorada, un recordo dunha viaxe ou a herdanza dun ser querido. Ollei o libro e vin escrito un nome e un enderezo na primeira folla. Qué sorte pensei!. E aquí ao lado! Crucei a rúa, andiven uns metros e chamei á porta. Saíu a abrirme un rapaz. - “Veño traerche este libro Atopeino na rúa”- dixen eu. Él miroume e respostou: - “Seino. Deixeino para ti. Levo agardándote dende hai moito tempo”!


Pseudónimo autora: Hilary MANTEL

Memories of Time... I was walking through Ferrol and I found a book. When I opened it, it changed my vision of the city. I like reading so, I´m compelled to purchase some books when passing a bookshop in Ferrol. Upon entering, I found a splendid book about the history of the town. Thanks to the text and its illustrations, I can, at any time I like, journey through Ferrol with its arsenals and its port, once attacked by the English. I can experience the Modernist architecture and Ucha Piñeiro buildings, the old town and birthplace of the activist Concepción Arenal and the streets where the writer Torrente Ballester walked. I imagine the workers of the pencil factory, these days the plant turned into debris and distant memories. But I do not like to be carried away by nostalgia. I know that the future holds ample opportunities for newly written chapters.

Memorias dun tempo (Galego) Estiven paseando por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando a abrín, cambiou a miña visión da cidade. Gústame ler así, véxome obrigado a comprar algúns libros ao pasar a unha librería en Ferrol. Ao entrar, atopei un espléndido libro sobre a historia da cidade. Grazas ao texto e as súas ilustracións, podo, en calquera momento que me guste, percorrer Ferrol cos seus arsenais e o seu porto, unha vez atacado polos ingleses. Podo experimentar a arquitectura modernista e os edificios de Ucha Piñeiro, o antigo barrio e lugar de nacemento da activista Concepción Arenal e as rúas onde paseaba o escritor Torrente Ballester. Eu imaxino ós traballadores da fábrica de lapis, estes días a planta envolta en escombros e memorias distantes. Pero non me gusta ser levado pola nostalxia. Sei que o futuro ten amplas oportunidades para capítulos recentemente escritos.


Pseudónimo autora: Margaret ATWOOD

Numerology I was walking around Ferrol and I came across a book. When I opened it, I saw on the first page a long handwritten number accompanying these words: “I need work, I can try anything. If you can help me, please phone.” Unfortunately, I could not offer anybody a job, but I felt a mixture of liking and sympathy, and a little curiosity too, since the book’s title was Numerology. I guessed there was a mystery behind my finding. So I called without thinking it twice, because at least I could offer that needy person some money. The woman who answered was astonished. She was living 600 miles away, had indeed an excellent job and knew nothing about a numerology book… “But the case could be worth taking a look at,” she added laughing. When Elena and I met in Valencia two weeks later, we realized we were kindred spirits!

Numeroloxía (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín, na primeira páxina vin un longo número manuscrito acompañando estas palabras: "Preciso traballo, podo tentar calquera cousa. Se pode axudarme, por favor chame". Desafortunadamente eu non podía ofrecer traballo a ninguén, pero sentín unha mestura de simpatía e compaixón, e tamén un pouco de curiosidade, xa que o título do libro era Numeroloxía. Presentín que detrás do meu achado había un misterio. Así que chamei sen pensalo dúas veces, pois polo menos podería ofrecer algún diñeiro a aquela persoa necesitada. A muller que respondeu estaba atónita. Vivía a case 1000 quilómetros de distancia, tiña de feito un traballo excelente e non sabía nada dun libro de numeroloxía... "Pero pode merecer a pena botarlle unha ollada ao asunto", engadiu rindo. Cando Elena e eu nos coñecimos en Valencia dúas semanas despois, decatámonos de que éramos almas xemelgas!


Pseudónimo autora: Alice MUNRO

The Man who did not Know Anything I was walking around Ferrol and found a book. When I opened it, a revolver fell from a purpose-built hollow. I brandished it unthinkingly and then noticed the man across the street staring at me. He grimly smiled. ‘Hey!’ a policeman yelled not three meters away, and I panicked. Next thing I remember is running blindly as policemen were closing in on me. I turned the corner and threw myself into the path of a fat man. Crash! I limped through a doorway and walked up nearly forty steps before seeing an icy blonde who was just about to take the lift. She responded to my unspoken plea by shouting at the policemen downstairs ‘here’s your man!’ No time. I left the book next to the nearest door and knocked. An ordinary man came out as I reached the lift. Before the sliding door closed I saw him opening the book. Our eyes met. I smiled.

O Home que non Sabía Nada (Galego) Andaba por Ferrol e atopei un libro. Cando o abrín, un revólver caeu dun oco feito a propósito. Brandino sen pensar e entón percibín ao home doutro lado da rúa coa mirada fixa en min. Sorriu sombriamente. ‘Ei!’ berrou un policía a tres metros escasos, e sentín pánico. O seguinte que lembro é correr a cegas cos policías achegándose. Dobrei a esquina e cruceime no camiño dun home gordo. Plof! Coxeei dentro dun portal e subín preto de corenta chanzos antes de ver a unha loura xélida a piques de coller o ascensor. Respondeu a miña súplica muda gritando aos policías escaleira abaixo “aquí está o seu home!”. Sen tempo. Deixei o libro xunto a porta máis próxima e petei. Un home corrente saíu cando eu alcanzaba o ascensor. Denantes de que a porta corredía pechara vino abrir o libro. As nosas miradas atopáronse. Sorrín.

Microrrelatos inglés 2018  
Microrrelatos inglés 2018  
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