Memories *1*

Since few of my readers said they like the fragment of the story I posted yesterday, I will post the whole story in parts, because it’s rather long for a short story. I hope I will get a constructive feedback, feel free to suggest changes, to correct me. I won’t get offended, exactly the opposite, it will help me make it better. Thank you!

*All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.*

Isabella Rico Valor – part 1

Isabella Rico Valor was born in the very cold and snowy night, December the 9th, in the year 1976. Few minutes after her mother gave a birth at the public hospital in Santa Pola- small town on the coast of Spain, near Alicante, the sky suddenly cleared up, the snow stopped and stars showed to congratulate the little person that came to life and Venus was right on top to mark the newborn with love, romance and belief in everything pure and beautiful.

Today, 33 years after this day, Isabella was sitting by the window, with her eyes closed, relaxed and content with the evening she spent with her family, celebrating her day. Her mind traveled back to when she was 6 years old and saw herself in front of  the homemade cake with candles ready to be blown. Her dad holding camera as usual, capturing the moment when she would take a deep breath and laughing will blow the candles. Her mom gorgeous as always, asking her: “Did you make a wish Bella?”. And out loud the wish: “I want to become a pilot, so I could travel around the world
and see all countries!”. She didn’t become a pilot, but the hunger to travel and see new places was always there- in all her thoughts and actions.

Isabella never really felt at home in Santa Pola. Her parents were the only people she could be comfortable with. Of course there were loads of friends and many nice days, afternoons, evenings with them, but still, most of the time she would find herself misunderstood and not in the right place, with the right people. Like when she was 10 and mother had set a play-date with the cute neighbor boy, which play-date ended up with Isabella locking the poor boy inside the cupboard, after he couldn’t follow the rules of the game they were playing. Her mother so embarrassed, didn’t know how to find the most polite way to apologize to the neighbor parents and Isabella, even though grounded, went to bed with a smile, saying to herself: “There will be a day, when I wouldn’t need to explain myself for everything. People will accept me just the way I am and will play along, because they’d understand me!” This is what made her an excellent student, the desire to go faraway from Santa Pola and find these people and the place where she would really feel home.

1994 was her year, the year she graduated with perfectly good marks, the year when high school was over and she got accepted in the University of Barcelona, in the Faculty of Computer studies. Well, it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but computers were the future and Barcelona was enough faraway from Santa Pola. It was a new beginning she impatiently embraced.

Bella loved the town the minute she got there. “A jewel in the sun”-was a description about Barcelona she heard somewhere and she couldn’t agree more with it. The scent of history and culture in the air that made her wonder what has she been in a past life. The dozen parks and the greenery that made her dream about endless walks or maybe a book read on a bench, surrounded by the giggles of happy kids running with kites. The amazing buildings and sculptures designed by Gaudi, the colorful line of streets, the tourists speaking different languages, wandering around, making the town pleasantly busy and of course the smell of the sea and the breeze on the beach, walking on the sand with bare feet late at night. She loved it all, everything about Barcelona was like home, her own home.

–“Bella”- her mother opened the door of her room, calling her name quietly, thinking she may be asleep and the memory of the first days in Barcelona was cut short, to be back to Santa Pola and her 33rd birthday. Mrs. Rico Valor wanted to say good night and probably to make sure her daughter goes to bed soon, because of the early flight she had to catch next morning. Bella smiled at her mom, wondering how come parents always treat them like babies, no matter how old they grow. Bella gave a kiss “good night” to her mom and cuddled in bed, going back to Barcelona  in her dreams.

She might have loved the town, but she knew immediately, since day one in university, the world of computers wasn’t her world. Technology was promising a very bright future to those who would study, learn and practice one day as specialists, but for Bella this was a cold field, devoid of any sense and grace whatsoever. Even her colleagues – cold creatures – most of them very clever, but in a way a nerd can be clever, intelligent and loaded with tons of information  about programming, microchips, electronic circuits… And there was nothing wrong with it, Bella thought. The problem was that even out of classes, when they were supposed to relax, to live life and be in love, to talk about politics,  art, books … anything, they were again there – putting together the pieces of a broken computer or rewriting something they did wrong in the faculty during tests. And this wasn’t Isabella’s idea of spending her spare time, not even close.

Of course she wouldn’t go back to Santa Pola, she wouldn’t disappoint her parents and give the small town something to talk about for the next few months. She stayed, trying to do things right and somehow fit in the new life by being good enough to study and free enough to enjoy the rest of the world that has nothing to do with computers. And she did well, University after all had its benefits …

to be continued …

“This is Barcelona” by Ayshel on


© 2011  Broken Sparkles

6 Responses to “Memories *1*”

  1. Paula Tohline Calhoun Says:

    So far so good, Braga! It has a lot to recommend it, and I look forward to reading more. I think after reading it all, I will be in a better position to make recommendations or offer any sort of constructive critique. What I will say for now is I would withhold giving physical descriptions of your characters unless it is absolutely necessary to the character’s development. In other words, mentioning “Her mom gorgeous as always, asking her:” feels clumsy, and at this point in the story it does not seem to be necessary to understanding either your MC or her Mom. You might find other ways in the rest of the story to include the physical descriptions, even as part of a conversation, such as: “Mom, you have always been so beautiful, and today more than ever!” (That’s a lousy example, but hopefully you get what I mean.) Make the descriptions part of the story, rather than insertions into the story that feel almost like an after-thought.

    Also, your description at the beginning of the night that Bella was born is so lovely, I would open with that – and then add the intro to Bella, and her birth.

    I hope you might find those two ideas somewhat helpful, but please take or leave them. This is your story, and we all have different viewpoints and thoughts. Like I said – what I’ve read so far makes me want to read more, and that is a very good thing! I’m looking forward to it!

    • Broken Sparkles Says:

      Paula, that was a wonderful comment, I will certainly have in mind the few things you pointed out to be careful about. I’m happy you find it good up to know … Thank you once again!

  2. souldipper Says:

    I lack the ability to critique well, Blaga. I love the good parts and have little idea whether the rough parts are my bias or a valid literary consideration.

    I’d rather enjoy the story and leave the critique to those who enjoy giving the feedback.

  3. Jamie Dedes Says:

    Hi, Sweetheart!

    I haven’t abandoned you. I’ve been back-and-forth reading as I can over these busy days. I reserve commentary until the end of the story. At this point I would say only a few things: 1.) It’s engaging (that’s 90% of the challenge, kudos!; 2.) Paula’s comment in short would be “show, don’t tell” – it’s an old fiction writing truism; 3.) this sounds like Blaga’s story to me!??? 4.) there’s no hard and fast rule about how long or short a short story must be. Let it flow …. How brave you are to experiment with another literary form. Bravo!

    Much love and big virtual hugs!

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