Mona and Other Tales Read Online Free PDF Page A

staff had disappeared, along with the characters of the story, and Alfredo found himself alone in the huge mansion. Disconcerted, he was getting ready to leave when the thunder of trucks and cranes reverberated through the building.
    Suddenly the foundations of the house began to move and the roof disappeared; the carpets rolled up automatically; the windowpanes, freed from their casements, flew through the air; the doors left their frames; the paintings came off the walls; and the walls, moving at an unbelievable speed, vanished along with everything else, into a huge truck. As everything disassembled and packed itself (the whole garden with its plastic trees, walls, and air fresheners was already moving out), Alfredo saw that the mansion had been nothing more than an enormous prefabricated cardboard set that could be installed and dismantled quickly, and which one could rent for a few days or even a few hours, according to the ad on the side of the large truck in which everything was being carted away.
    In a flash, the site where the imposing mansion had stood became nothing but a dusty embankment. Standing in the center, still perplexed, Alfredo could not find (it no longer existed) the path that would take him back to the city. He walked around aimlessly, thinking about the story he had never written. But an enthusiastic bark pulled him out of his meditation.
    Exasperated, Alfredo began running, but the Saint Bernard, evidently more athletic than the writer, caught up with him quickly, knocked him down, and began licking his face. An unexpected joy came over Alfredo when he realized that her tongue was indeed real. He pulled himself together and got up. Caressing Narcisa—who followed him faithfully—he abandoned the site.
    Miami Beach, April 1986

With My Eyes Closed
    I’M ONLY GOING to tell the whole story to you because I know that if I tell it to you, you’re not going to laugh in my face and you’re not going to scold me either. I can’t tell my mother. I can’t tell Mother anything, ’cause if I did, she would never stop nagging and scolding me. And, even though she would probably be right, I really don’t want to hear any kind of warning or advice.
    So that’s why. Because I know you’re not going to say anything to me, I’m telling you all.
    Since I’m only eight, I go to school every day. And that is when all my troubles start, ’cause I have to get up pretty early—when the bantam rooster my grandaunt Angela gave me has only crowed twice. My school is pretty far.
    About six in the morning my mother begins scolding me for not getting up, and by seven I’m already sitting on the bed and rubbing my eyes. Then I have to do everything in a hurry: get dressed fast, run fast to school, and get in line fast because the bell rang already and the teacher is standing by the door.
    But yesterday was different. My grandaunt Angela had to leave for Oriente and catch a train before seven. And there was a tremendous racket around the house. All the neighbors came to say good-bye, and my mother got so nervous that she dropped the pot of boiling water for making coffee on the floor, and burned her foot.
    With all that unbearable noise, I couldn’t sleep any more. And since I was already awake, I decided to get up.
    Grandaunt Angela, after a lot of hugs and kisses, finally managed to go. And I left right away for school, even though it was still pretty early.
    Today I don’t have to rush, I told myself, almost smiling. In fact, I began walking pretty slowly. And when I was going to cross the street, I stumbled over a cat lying on the curb. “What a place you picked to sleep,” I told him, and I nudged him with the tip of my shoe. But he didn’t move. Then I bent down closer and realized he was dead. Poor thing, I thought, he was probably run over by a car and someone dragged him over to the curbside so he wouldn’t get totally squashed. What a