Presentación: Bélmez de la Moraleda

La traición de Wendy ya se ha presentado en Antequera, Sevilla, Jaén y Granada. Ha llegado al fin el turno de traerla a casa, donde vio la luz una tarde de agosto o septiembre de hace tres años. No obstante, la primera vez que escribí sobre "la traición de Wendy" como hecho, como dolor, como puñalada certera fue hace cuatro años, al comienzo del blog, cuando era inocente y romántico y creía en el amor y en las historias atemporales. ¿Quién salva a Peter?, me preguntaba, y aún no sabía que la pregunta era: ¿quién salva a Jose? Y a Ruth, ¿quién?
Con el paso del tiempo (¡otra vez el tiempo, el crecimiento, envejecimiento!) encontramos respuesta a muchas de estas preguntas. Ahora que lo pienso, la piel que se arruga del Peter que creció es mucho más evocadora que toda la novela que escribí unos años después.

Qué ganitas de presentación. Esta tarde, a las 8, en el Parque del Nacimiento. Aunque me la joda la lluvia...

The girl who didn't grow up

All children, except one, grow up. Of course there are exceptions, like the story of Anna O'Toole. She didn't grow up either: she grew down, if that's possible. On her 10th birthday, she started getting smaller and smaller. That's a real problem when children get smaller: they can't go to bed unless they hop really high nor can they brush their teeth except in the dog's plate. Despite everything, the worries of her parents and her little size, Anna was truly happy. Every night, when the clocks were striking twelve and she was deeply asleep and all the adults of the town were having fun at a party, every night, I'm telling you,a fairy as small as Anna came down the chimney and went into Anna's bedroom. This fairy whose name we won't know was a good fairy -don't forget that fairies can be very selfish and jealous- the good fairy lay by her side and let her stardust escape in dreams. That's why Anna was getting smaller and smaller: eventually she'd become another fairy.

However one night, during her dreams, the fairy suffered a nightmare and woke up crying. That's how Anna became aware about what was happening to her. Moreover, she was really annoyed at the fairy as that very night she was having a wonderful, delicious chocolate-taste dream.
'What are you doing here, little bug?', she asked.
'I'm so sorry, Your Majesty. Peter Pan sent me'.
'Your Majesty? Who's that Beedle Pan?', she said.
'Peter, not Beedle. Peter Pan is the Boy Who Never Grew'.
'That's a nice explanation, little bug. I don't believe you'.
'But-.'
'You're trying to poison me. Confess. Now'.
'Never! For Hook's sake!', said the little fairy. 'But promise you'll never tell or...'
'Or what?'
'Or it will be the end. And this time... for good'.
'Then tell me what I am supposed to do. I'm a good girl'.
'You're such a special girl!'
They were both smiling in the darkness of the bedroom. A sparkle crossed the fairy's eyes.
'You should come with me to this marvelous Kingdom of Neverland'.
'Neverland?'
'A-ham. With the mermaids and the pirates and flamingos and... well, all that stuff'.
'May I go with you'.
'You're coming with me. But don't tell Peter about my slip. I've been coming to look for you for almost thirty nights. But after the journey from Neverland here I go in the bedroom, look at you and I feel really sleepy, so I fall asleep. In the morning, some naughty sunshine wakes me up and I go back and Peter gets so desperate. But today'.
'Let's go before it's too late or my parents wake up. How do we get to Neverland, little bug?'
'Flying, of course!'
'Of course!', said Anna, and followed the fairy all along the purple and velvetine sky. Obviously, when they got in to Neverland everyone was expecting their arrival. Everyone but Peter Pan.
'Where's Beedle Pan?', asked Anna.
'He's at home. Shhh... he may be sleeping'.
Anna followed the fairy into a hole in the ground and they fell in a small cave. There was someone in there.
'Who's there?', said a male voice.
'It's me, dear. I finally got the girl'.
'Oh, that's gonna be real fun today. We'll celebrate with a party, Tinkerbell'.
'I'm not that stupid Tinkerbell', said the fairy completely offended.
And right after that, Peter Pan, believe it or not, stepped forward into the light, and he wasn't a boy who'd never grown up at all, but an old, wrinkled and white-haired child, if that's even possible. I can only say that Anna never came back.

the END

Nocte

Hoy me acaban de comunicar que pertenezco a NOCTE, la Asociación Española de Escritores de Terror. Lo cierto es que tenía ganas de formar parte de ella y no son pocas las veces que he fantaseado con ello. Conocía ya en persona a uno de sus socios de honor (Fernando Iwasaki), he devorado con locura lo que escribe Jose Carlos Somoza y a otros de los socios he tenido el placer de conocerlos gracias a las maravillas de Internet. Resulta, además, que podría ser el socio más joven de momento, y eso es un subidón para mi autoconestima :P
¡Vamos a asustar niñas guapas!