"Aurora la emancipada" (“Aurora the emancipated”) / Soloescribe con...

This is a bilingual publication. At the end of the post you will find the English language version

Aurora terminó de escribir su poema de ese día. Lo leyó siete veces seguidas y en cada una de ellas hubo algo qué corregir. Al final se sintió un poco satisfecha del resultado. Apretó la hoja contra su pecho, suspiró hondo y con un rápido movimiento la lanzó al fuego que ardía en la chimenea. La hoja se volvió una mezcla de negros, azules, amarillos y naranjas y luego se deshizo poco a poco. -“Es una lástima “ – pensó – “Pero nadie se debe enterar de lo que escribo cuando escribo”. Criada en un ambiente rígido, entre la dureza de un padre militar que consideraba su hogar una extensión de su cuartel y una madre excesivamente absorbente y dominante que solo bajaba la cabeza ante “el general en jefe” – como llamaba a su esposo – había sido cohartada de muchas cosas desde niña. De adolescente, en la época en que la rebeldía es prácticamente una norma, se dio cuenta que había tres lugares preciados en los que podía ser totalmente libre: Su pensamiento, la lectura y la escritura. La complicidad de su tia Ana fue muy importante en esta etapa. Era ella quien le conseguía los libros “adecuados”, esos cuyas ideas eran totalmente opuestas a las de sus padres y que Aurora se complacía en leer saboreando el gusto de lo clandestino y después de quemados eran rememorados en las largas conversaciones con su tía que se daban casi todos los fines de semana ya que sus padres tenían siempre compromisos de tipo social a los cuales ella aún no estaba en edad de asistir y, para no dejarla sola, “contrataban” a su tía Ana para que la viniera a acompañar. Podría abrazar la religión oriental que la atraía, militar en el partido político “que le movía el piso”. Al terminar la carrera universitaria elegida por sus padres estudiaría la de su gusto. -“Aurora la emancipada”, así llamaré a mi novela tía, ya lo verás. Y será un bestseller… a nivel mundial. Gracias a mí, Amazon ingresará al libro de récords Guinness por volumen de ventas…ja,ja,ja.

La tía Ana disfrutaba de fantasear también con ella. Realmente sentía mucha satisfacción por los logros de su sobrina aunque sabía que tendría muchos problemas con su hermana y cuñado cuando se descubriera todo y supieran que ella había sido la cómplice de la chica.
Un extraño sonido en el patio trasero llamó la atención de ambas. Se miraron en silencio y estuvieron atentas por si se repetía.
Se repitió con más fuerza. Era un sonido extraño, como una vibración acompañada de un ruido sordo pero que iba agudizándose y además acercándose. De pronto se escuchó como si algo muy pesado hubiese caído allí detrás, los vidrios de la ventana tintinearon y luego… solo silencio.
Los grillos y ranitas cuyo sonido llenaba siempre la noche se quedaron como mudos de repente. El silencio era contundente, pesado.

Corriendo la cortina de la ventana que daba hacia el patio trataron de distinguir de qué se trataba. Pero era una noche sin luna y justamente el día anterior se había quemado el bombillo y habían olvidado reponerlo.
Algo muy grande estaba en el patio, se distinguía apenas. Pero.. ¿Qué podría ser? Su forma era irregular… con una cierta semejanza a un tractor.
La tía Ana tomó una linterna y le dijo a Aurora…
-Quédate acá, déjame ver de qué se trata.
-No, tía, yo iré contigo… ¿Y si llevamos una escopeta… por si acaso?
La tía Ana frunció el entrecejo, en silencio y muy lentamente denegó con la cabeza. Sin embargo, cinco minutos después iban saliendo hacia el patio. Ella con la linterna y Aurora con la escopeta.

Cuando Ana dirigió el haz de luz hacia el voluminoso… lo que fuera, se encontraron con un cubo metálico de color pardo. Hermético. Lo rodearon…no había detalle alguno que les diera una pista acerca de qué era realmente aquello.

De pronto sintieron nuevamente el ruido que les había llamado la atención antes y una parte del cubo comenzó a abrirse. Una especie de puerta apareció como a un metro de distancia del piso.
-“Extraterrestres” – propuso la fértil imaginación de Aurora. Iba a decirle esto a su tía cuando vieron que de la puerta salía algo similar a una rampa y por la misma descendió un joven, vestido en forma extraña, pero no un extraterrestre. Era alguien totalmente humano… su rostro tenía algo familiar…que no lograron definir.
Con una amplia sonrisa, moviéndose ágilmente se acercó a Aurora, le tendió la mano y le dijo:
-“Hola, gran placer en encontrarte. Esto…” y señaló el cubo con un ademán – …es la máquina del tiempo y yo… soy tu bisnieto”

English version

Aurora finished writing her poem that day. She read it seven times in a row and each time there was something to correct. At the end she felt a little satisfied with the result. She pressed the page to her chest, sighed deeply and with a quick movement threw it into the fire burning in the fireplace. The sheet turned a mixture of blacks, blues, yellows and oranges and then gradually fell apart. - “It's a pity ‘ - she thought - ’But no one must find out what I write when I write”. Raised in a rigid environment, between the harshness of a military father who considered his home an extension of his barracks and an excessively absorbing and domineering mother who only lowered her head before “the general in chief” - as she called her husband - she had been coerced from many things since she was a child. As a teenager, at a time when rebelliousness is practically the norm, she realized that there were three precious places where she could be totally free: her thoughts, reading and writing. The complicity of her aunt Ana was very important at this stage. She was the one who got her the “right” books, those whose ideas were totally opposed to those of her parents and that Aurora was pleased to read, savoring the taste of the clandestine and after they were burned they were remembered in the long conversations with her aunt that took place almost every weekend since her parents always had social commitments to which she was not yet old enough to attend and, in order not to leave her alone, they “hired” her aunt Ana to come with her. The fireplace was already accustomed to its fire being fed by books, pamphlets, leaflets... Aurora counted the years to come with the anxiety of thinking that being of age would be synonymous not only of thinking in freedom but also of acting in the same tone. She had a large sum of money in an account that was in her aunt's name because she was a minor. She had begun to carry out certain stock market operations when she was almost a child and trading had no secrets for her. Thus she had managed to amass a small fortune that would allow her to “move out and become independent at 18”. Eighteen! The magic number! It was all planned. The day after her 18th birthday she would open her own account, her aunt would transfer all the money to her and the apartment that had been bought in both of their names, because she was a minor, thanks to a fictitious sale of her aunt's share, would become her own property. She could embrace the oriental religion that attracted her, and join the political party “that moved her to the floor”. At the end of the university career chosen by her parents, she would study the one she liked. - “Aurora the emancipated”, that's what I'll call my novel, aunt, you'll see. And it will be a bestseller... worldwide. Thanks to me, Amazon will enter the Guinness Book of Records for sales volume...ha,ha,ha,ha.

Aunt Ana enjoyed fantasizing about her too. She really felt a lot of satisfaction for her niece's achievements although she knew she would have a lot of problems with her sister and brother-in-law when everything was discovered and they knew that she had been the girl's accomplice.
A strange sound in the back yard caught the attention of both of them. They looked at each other silently and kept an eye out for a repetition.
It was repeated louder. It was a strange sound, like a vibration accompanied by a dull thud but it was getting louder and louder and also getting closer. Suddenly it sounded as if something very heavy had fallen behind there, the window panes tinkled and then... only silence.
The crickets and frogs whose sound always filled the night were suddenly mute. The silence was forceful, heavy.

Pulling back the curtain of the window overlooking the courtyard, they tried to make out what it was. But it was a moonless night and just the day before the light bulb had burned out and they had forgotten to replace it.
Something very big was in the courtyard, they could barely make it out. But what could it be? Its shape was irregular... with a certain resemblance to a tractor.
Aunt Ana took a flashlight and said to Aurora...

Stay here, let me see what it's all about.
No, aunt, I'll go with you... What if we take a shotgun... just in case?
Aunt Ana frowned, silently and very slowly shook her head. However, five minutes later they were on their way out into the yard. She with the flashlight and Aurora with the shotgun.

When Ana directed the beam of light towards the bulky... whatever it was, they came across a brownish-colored metal bucket. Airtight. They surrounded it...there was no detail that would give them a clue as to what it really was.

Suddenly they felt again the noise that had caught their attention before and a part of the cube began to open. A kind of door appeared about a meter away from the floor.

“Aliens” - proposed Aurora's fertile imagination. She was about to tell this to her aunt when they saw something similar to a ramp coming out of the door and down the ramp descended a young man, dressed strangely, but not an alien. It was someone totally human...his face had something familiar...that they could not define.
With a broad smile, moving nimbly he approached Aurora, held out his hand and said:
“Hello, great pleasure to meet you. This...” and pointed to the cube with a gesture - ...is the time machine and I...am your great-grandson.”

El texto fue creado sin utilizar IA
Traducción al inglés con [Deepl Traductor Versión Gratuita](https://www.deepl.com/es/translator#es/en-us/)
English translation with [Deepl Translator Free Version].(https://www.deepl.com/es/translator#es/en-us/)
Foto propia tomada con celular Samsung J2 Prime

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