by Stefania Gil
He could only hear his voice and he only concentrated on the prayer coming from his throat.
Although he did not notice, the people around him were euphoric watching the defendants being placed in the wood piles in which they would be burned very soon.
The public was disgusted at those condemned to death. They threw rubbish, stones and spit on them.
Juan Carlos was not aware of anything. He concentrated harder on his prayer as he began to smell burnt wood and scorched flesh. He knew his turn would come soon.
Before an executioner's servant lit the pile of wood Juan Carlos had at his feet, he sensed footsteps approaching him. It was his turn. He was grateful.
He could not turn his head because it was fastened by a strap to the wooden pole to which he was tied. In a few seconds he would experience death by the garrote vil.
The executioner introduced an iron cylinder with a sharp point, through a hole in the wood at Juan Carlos’ nape.
The other end of the cylinder contained an iron ball so the executioner could turn the weapon easier.
Juan Carlos felt the prick at the back of his neck and took a deep breath.
The executioner did his job. He nailed the rotating stake through the prisoner's neck, causing Juan Carlos's cervical to break. In theory, a cerebral coma would occur with instant death. Apparently, it did not work that way for Juan Carlos, who was suffocating while listening to the clamor of those present, celebrating his instant “death”.
He tried to speak. He needed to tell the executioner to nail the stake further because he had not yet died. He did not feel pain. It was as if he had been disconnected from his nerve endings.
Despondent, he prayed again for the fire to finish killing him.
A blazing heat suddenly invaded him and he felt the flames rise from his feet to his head, enveloping him with great momentum.
Within a few seconds, he confidently surrendered to the fog around him and let the flames guide him to the path that would lead him directly to death.
***
Several hours later, when the embers and what remained of the charred bodies cooled a little, the guards began to clean the whole scene.
The Inquisitor ordered that whatever remains left of the bodies to be buried in a pit in the field, as usual.
There were no longer any curious people in the square. The show was over so there was no point in staying there. These people’s morbidity was satisfied with the cries and suffering of the condemned. Once they were satisfied, they no longer cared about the rest. They had enough gossip to spread and enjoy from the pain of others.
That was how things worked back then.
The heat was so intense, parts of the limbs had disappeared and the rest fell apart. Two of the bodies the guards withdrew, fell apart.
However, one of the bodies was quite strange.
They pulled him out of the blackened pile and took him immediately to the executioner.
He called the doctor.
“That's impossible,” the doctor said, his eyes wide as he surveyed the unrecognizable body lying on the floor. “He has vital signs.”
“What are you saying?” The executioner asked enraged. “Call the inquisitor, it is urgent that he comes.”
The inquisitor entered the room quickly. His face was filled with a mixture of terror and rage.
“He's alive,” the executioner informed him with concern.
“Then we'll have to find another way to kill him.” He smiled wickedly. “Maybe it's time to start testing all those torture devices that are ready to be used when the law permits. The man licked his lips. His expression and his sadistic look indicated that he was relishing the suffering he would cause the fire’s survivor.
There were many methods of torture not yet allowed because, to date, torture in which any body part was mutilated or where blood was spilled was prohibited.
“Put him in his cell and keep him under surveillance,” he ordered the guards and the doctor. “Prepare the North Wing's torture room,” he ordered the executioner, the latter smiled, making it clear that he wanted to use the mysterious torture room.
***
Juan Carlos coughed a couple of times. His mouth seemed like he swallowed sandpaper and his lungs ached as he tried to breathe deeply.
He opened his eyes a little and when he looked around a strong pressure gripped his chest.
He was back in his cell.
He survived the fire.
Panic gripped him and he began to scream loudly. His lungs burned.
His skin also burned like hell itself.
The doctor entered the cell immediately.
Juan Carlos reflected the doctor’s look of horror. The man couldn’t stop thinking about what Juan Carlos could do to him being Satan’s servant.
“You're getting better quickly,” the doctor said cautiously.
Juan Carlos sat up. The cell’s dim light of the cell allowed him to see his body was covered with hideous wounds that seemed to be boiling.
He studied them with curiosity.
“Yes,” said the doctor. “Every bubble is real and it is what has regenerated your whole body.”
Juan Carlos didn’t want to know anything else.
He sat in a corner of the cell as tears of frustration and fear commenced to fall.
***
Thanks to Juan Carlos’ memories, the trip to the past session left Carlota somewhat disorientated today.
She could not help thinking this poor man was a saint because to have lived through so many injustices there was not a trace of vengeance in his soul.
She, in his place, would have ended the holy church already. Nothing could kill her. She could go through life a ruthless vigilante without any problem.
Juan Carlos was different. A saint, she thought again as they walked through the crowded downtown.
The Fallas, or festivals, started and the whole city was a hive of people.
They had already been able to appreciate everything Alfonso and Catalina recommended they see of the celebrations. Today, they were in the Plaza de la Virgen, watching the parade of the falleros with the offering for the city’s patron saint.
The Virgin of the Desamparados was immense. =It occupied almost the entire square and the flowers offered by the Falleros were making its majestic clothing possible.
A show that Carlota was happy to experience herself and to safeguard her memory of every moment to use in her novel that was going well.
She was satisfied. The story was going great and she was writing it in record time. Never before had she been so inspired. In harmony with herself and with everyone around her.
Her daughter smiled mischievously at the same time her husband pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek.
Alfonso and Catalina participated in the parade today, with the rest of their families. It was a tradition worthy of admiration and they were very proud.
The women's attire was dazzling. Refined and sophisticated dresses, made by the best fashion designers in the city; with silver headdresses. They all wore the hairstyle that reminded her of Princess Leia.
“Did the people look like this in your time, Juan?” Isabel asked the immortal and Carlota wanted to pinch her.
“No,” he smiled, amused. He wished they were half as clean and tidy as now.
Isabel looked disgusted.
Carlota rolled her eyes to the sky.
“What do you want?” Edward asked in her ear.
“Do you believe it?” She asked in disbelief.
“That's obvious, honey.”
“Well, she has not mentioned Luke for days.”
Isabel turned to her sister.
“Did you say something?”
“No,” Carlota said seriously. “It was incredible how she could hear that idiot’s name from miles away.”
Yes, she would love to be a vigilante thirsty for revenge. She’d finish Luke for damn good.
“She’s different, don’t you see?”
> “Well, yes,” Carlota said, “but she still thinks about that idiot, I'm sure.”
“Juan Carlos likes her. He told me a few days ago.”
Carlota was surprised, “And you're just telling me now?”
Edward smirked.
“I had forgotten.”
The writer turned to observe her sister. She had not put on heavy make-up for days, and most of the time she was in her white converse. Her sister's favorite shoes until she met Luke. How he couldn’t stand a woman in sneakers, so she got rid of them.
She gained a little weight and if she thought about it, she smiled more.
“She's stopped talking about Luke for several days, I noticed, too,” her husband said in secret “and Juan Carlos told me that she hardly ever calls him on her cell phone.”
Rejoice bubbled inside Carlota.
It would be wonderful if she forgot that jerk for good and even better if she could fall in love with someone decent like Juan Carlos.
Although she did not want him to get hurt due to her sister's rudeness. Carlota was taking great care of the immortal and considered him like family.
She looked at the blinding innocence in his eyes.
She never asked anyone for anything, but maybe she could start right now.
Yes, she would ask for her sister and Juan Carlos to find happiness.
***
Juan Carlos was amazed with everything he saw today.
The color was spectacular and the perfection with which they made those giant monuments called Ninots.
How different it was to his time! None of this existed. On the day of San José, carpenters used to light a fire to burn wood chips in their workshops. Some claimed it served as purification of the spring equinox but little of it could be proven because whoever did it was taken before the law as a heretic.
He wanted to interpret everything he saw. A river of people passed celebrating, laughing, and enjoying a tradition that deserved admiration. All that work, the dedication in realizing some monuments so impressive to burn them on the night of San Jose. It seemed a brutal waste of time, material and talent to him. He would have invented a giant museum to display those pieces of art. Although if he thought about it, their actions were logical. It would be impossible to acquire a museum capable of housing the gigantic pieces displayed on every street in the city year after year.
The locals were dressed in their typical costumes, smiling, proud of their tradition. Happy to be part of it. Juan Carlos was very happy today.
After watching the parade for several hours and the offerings to the patroness of the city, they decided to go to the Plaza de la Reina, where Alfonso recommended they look for the Horchatería Santa Catalina street vendor. There they could eat churros, pumpkin fritters and drink good hot chocolate.
It was the best that Juan Carlos had eaten until that day and he had to keep in mind in the Alcalá's house he ate very well, but those crunchy churros and spongy fritters bathed in the thick and sweet chocolate, were no comparison with anything Juan could have tried from modern times.
They ate until they burst.
Alicia, was full of chocolate and had sugar rush, although her parents claimed she would soon fall dead, was uncontrolled. The way she ran and laughed when Isabel played and chased her said otherwise.
Late in the evening, Carlota and Edward decided they had enough walking for one day. They caught their little girl and disappeared in the crowd. They went home.
Juan thought about taking a break. He needed it. It had been days since he slept well and with the added work of planting, he really was exhausted.
Seeing Isabel so happy, smiling, injected him with energy to continue.
The night was cool, Isabel walked silently beside him with her arms folded across her chest.
“Where are you taking me?” Juan asked mischievously.
She looked him straight in the eyes and gave him a mischievous smile.
“To have fun,” She said. “Alfonso said one of these streets was lit with amazing lights and had a game emphasizing on the phrase 'big fun'. Although the truth is I am exhausted.”
They both laughed.
“Then I propose we explore a little and then sit down somewhere to have a few beers.”
“I'm delighted, and my feet are more delighted than I am.”
They laughed again.
“The number of people on the street was impressive, although New York is like this almost all the time.”
He viewed her with curiosity.
“Are there Fallas in New York, too?”
She laughed. Juan loved that sound.
“Oh! No! There are no Fallas in New York, Juan. I promise soon we will go so you can visit. It's a wonderful city.” Isabel pulled out her cell phone and her hands began to shake. Not precisely because of the vibration. “Excuse me, Juan, I have to answer this.”
Juan nodded and stood beside her. He complied with the courtesy of stepping away a little. Enough so she would perceive 'privacy' but at the same time allowing him to hear what she said. He had a feeling the caller was the same man who made her suffer so much.
He grew very angry. It was unthinkable to him that a woman as special as Isabel would be hurt that way.
She answered and Juan Carlos cursed a thousand times because she was speaking in a language he did not know, English?
Damn it! He could not understand anything she said, though her tone was quite indifferent.
He had to learn to speak English. He would ask Edward to teach him.
He had to stop being stupid. He had wanted to win her heart for some time now. He felt each time he was holding less but he wanted more. He could not afford the man in another country to snatch the woman he wanted to have at his side.
He would die just to kiss her.
It had to start now. He could not let it go any longer.
She hung up the phone.
“All good?” Juan Carlos asked curiously.
She just snorted and nodded.
They walked in silence until reaching the street with the famous lights.
It was quite a spectacle. Metal arches adorned the street with path of multi-colored lights that danced to the rhythm of deafening music.
Juan Carlos felt a little stunned. He began to feel dizzy among so many people.
He turned his head trying to anchor his sight to a point to help stabilize his eyesight. That was when he realized he was separated from Isabel.
Damn it!
He continued to advance through the crowd. Suddenly, someone took his hand and pulled him out of the river of people.
He recognized that soft, delicate hand at once.
It was Isabel.
She was laughing.
“I have not been in a river of people like that for years.”
“I could spend a few more years without it.”
They both laughed.
“Are you okay?” She looked at him so sweetly that he had a mad impulse to hug her and kiss her until he was exhausted.
They were still holding hands.
He pulled her a little closer.
He felt her body stiffen as he moved closer to her.
He caressed her face gently and timidly kissed the back of her hand that was intertwined with his.
He gave her a half smile.
“I'm fine, Isa.”
She continued to watch him. Her eyes struggled not to show more than they should, but that night, among the crowd and the racket, Juan Carlos saw a ray of hope in Isabel's eyes.
There was no time to lose. He would win her.
***
Isabel kept her eyes on Juan Carlos. She felt hypnotized. Those black pearls shone under thick eyebrows the same color. They turned on all the alert and security systems she had in her organism.
What the hell was going on tonight?
She received an unexpected call from Luke that had her dismayed due to his sudden change in attitude.
He told her that he needed her and
wanted to be with her again. He even mentioned he would fly to Spain that same night. Something happened that even she didn’t expect, she refused. She did not know exactly what the hell had happened but he seemed like another person. She told Luke not to call her anymore, to stay in New York because she had no intentions of going back to him. She wanted to start a new life in which he was not included.
Did she want to cry? It almost exploded like a water fountain and for that reason she did not talk to Juan Carlos when he asked if everything was okay. If she opened her mouth, she would surely burst into tears like a fool. She was tired of crying for Luke so, in her silence, she swallowed the huge knot forming in her throat. She almost repented and called Luke to tell him she was an idiot for refusing him. She would take the first flight to New York to be with him because he still loved him, but every thought dissolved into the sight of Juan Carlos when he kissed her hand.
Seriously, what the hell was going on tonight?
“I think we should go,” she said to Juan, not looking away.
He smiled.
“No. Let's have a beer; maybe later we'll have more churros. We'll stay until they turn on the figures. I want to see how it happens.”
Was the universe sending her a signal?
Well, what else could it be? Luke could wait. She had the right to have fun. She always stopped doing everything she liked to please Luke. Not today, besides, she had to be cautious. She was in a much better mood now that she understood her ex was very unstable and could sink her into a depression the following week when her security of his love was questionable.
Isabel felt a knot in her stomach.
Luke never told her he loved her. Never. Not even just now when he called her to express how unhappy he was because she was not with him. He always said: I need you, I want you.
But never I love you'.
The truth was you can love your dog, your neighbor, a friend, but the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your life with, you have to love them —and with capital letters— because with cohabitation and the day to day problems are only overcome if there is real love.
