An ICT Project. An ebook of short stories written by my third year students at Bachillerato de Bellas Artes, 2014.

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Bachillerato de Bellas Artes
U.N.L.P.
STORIES OF YOUNG PEOPLE
English Project: Class e-book
of short stories, written by my 3rd year English
students
2014
Teacher: María Cecilia Carattoli

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you, my dear 3rd year students, for your effort and creativity in
writing these stories.
Thank you again, for helping me become a better teacher every day.
You are my best teachers.
AGRADECIMIENTOS
Gracias, mis queridos alumnos de 3er año, por su esfuerzo y creatividad
al escribir estas historias.
Gracias de nuevo, por ayudarme a ser una mejor profesora cada día.
Ustedes son mis mejores maestros.

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Contents
Sugar Skulls ………………………………….…………………………..Page 4
Written by Nicolás Romagnoli, Franco Villoldo, Jano Morales Lopez and
Valentino Petrecco.
Illustrated by Nicolás and Franco.Technique: tempera
Tale of Revenge ………………………….…………………….………..Page 8
Written by Dante Villegas, Malena Abait, Wayra Ramirez, Alexis Torales
Vega,Matías Cherry and Lino Salamanca Palmioli.
It’s Just a Dream………………………………...………………………Page 11
Written by Valentina Perdoni
The Unexpected Disappearance….……….………………..……….Page 13
Written by Azul Suarez, Diana Gomez Ramos, Indira Reeynoso, Sofía
Cabrera and M. Victoria Lovera
Fallen in Combat …………………….……..……………..……………Page 14
Written by Homero Glorioso Ceretti and Manuel Rojas

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Sugar Skulls
My four grandparents are buried in the same cemetery. To be more precise,
in the same grave, one above another. That's why on Day of the Dead we
have a large family gathering to visit the grave of our ancestors, but also
take time out to engage in recreational activities.
He agreed that in November last year, I received a suggestion from a friend
to go at that time to an old hacienda is now Morelos hotel. He was the
manager and he assured me that my whole family would go nicely as fun,
rest and good food in the region were secured.
We arrived in the evening to the property which had extensive pools, play
areas and gardens that strangely looked deserted. No employee came out to
meet us until an elderly woman who greeted us appeared. It was identified
as the smiling housekeeper told us that the facility would be for our use only
because there were more guests.
Immediately we settled in our rooms, which were in what was the largest
house of the Hacienda Beltran. Later, Mrs. touched door to door to notify
that dinner was served, so we made an appointment in the rustic dining
room, where we taste a rich and fresh jerky Yecapixtla Tlacoyos bean
fillings.
After dinner, the lady invited us out to the garden to light a campfire and
when we were all around the pyre, they related the story of the old Porfirian
Morelos haciendas, many of them, as we were, it specializing in the
production of sugar.
Just when I commented that the state had about 40 sugar estates, suddenly
an old man's voice was heard saying: "37 to be exact." Startled, we all
turned around to the place where the voice came, and saw a man wrapped
in a serape, crouched, cutting the grass with scissors. He sat up and said,
"Good evening, I'm Jerome, the gardener, but everyone calls me Don Jero.
The man came to light the campfire and we saw his battered face and
starving body. He said then: "Yes, folks, it had 37 estates, they were held by
18 wealthy families."

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As if we were all under a hypnotic trance, listening to the old man continued,
"sugar and its derivatives, such as cane alcohol and liquor, were very
profitable products. But all that said lamentación- progress ended when the
rebels overthrew in 1910 to Don Porfirio ".
His story was interrupted when the main gate was opened and we saw the
lights of a car. It was my friend who was going to monitor our stay. I
stepped forward to greet him and tell him about the mysterious gardener
who, when we turn to the fire was gone.
The face of my friend broke down and said, "he did it again". To my surprise,
he confessed: "there is no gardener, he is a ghost, Don Jeronimo Beltran,
the owner of the Hacienda, who violently died a century ago, along with his
wife, to defend the property of the Zapatista forces."

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With great detail, he recounted the fatal outcome of Don Jero, but asked me
not to say anything because he needed the job and the appearances were
driving vacationers and staff.
I returned to my room startled, basting the strange events since our arrival;
but also with the dilemma of telling the improbable story to my family or
remain silent with the expectation that no more supernatural events
continue to occur.
Hardly settled to sleep, but at dawn, I was awakened by a noise. I looked
out the window and into the darkness of the night I saw Don Jero, back,
sweeping the leaves of the garden; then he turned, slowly began to move
towards me and as he approached I could distinguish his face disfigured and
bloody ending plague on the glass to say, "get out of here." Suddenly I
closed the curtains and, terrified, I knew we had to leave that place as soon
as possible.

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Tale of Revenge
It's been 12 years since that fateful day. One day when my wife was killed
by the cold hands of Jack Doopler’s blood, a gangster who has dominated
the city of Luxembourg with smuggling of weapons, drugs and women. The
person I killed five days ago.
My name is John Smith, I used to be a private detective who specializes in
finding thieves and thugs who would work for Jack Doopler; every time I
caught one, I questioned him for getting information so we could catch
Doopler and bring him to justice. Or so they thought.
What they really wanted was to kill Jack, since he was the one who took
away my beloved wife’s life in front of my eyes; five days ago I killed Jack
Doopler with my own hands, as he did with my wife.
Day 1: Calmy in my flat i was torturing one of the Doopler’s henchmen when
I heard someone knocking on my door; with my hands bloody and full of
saliva and mucus I opened the door and saw a woman; she was a beautiful
blonde with blue eyes with a smile capable of i conquering any man, his face
a horrible feeling of sadness and regret, which I did not notice because I was
mesmerized by the majesty of her slender body, her turbant breasts, her
undulating hips, her firm legs and her beautiful blond hair falling over her
face which she picked as an innocent girl.
Awkwardly I asked her - Who are you and what do you want? - To which she
replied - Wanna know how to get back at Doopler? -. I quickly closed the
door in her face and went to wash my hands; when I finished I let her come
in without caring about a half-dead man in my room. As soon as she sat
down I asked who she was and what she knew of Doopler, have to which
she replied that she was his wife. I must admit for a moment I hesitated
whether to kill her or not, but then she confessed she recently found out
what her husband had done and committed heinous acts to the city and its
people, so she asked me to help her face her husband and bring him to
justice.
Day 2: It’s 02:25 pm, 22 hours have passed since the last time I saw
Doopler’s wife, Christine Douglas; during our evening I told my story with
Jack and she confessed hers to me. Before leaving she gave me some
papers and bank accounts she had stolen from her husband's desk, including
locations in all black markets, drug factories, bars and strip clubs where he

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deposited and saved part of their finances and transactions, also several
vessels and containers in which there were shipments with weapons.
The night fell and i confirmed that the information Christine provided me was
not false, now it only takes a little time and my thirst for vengeance will be
reached.
Days 3 and 4: With Christine’s information I have been able to get
shipments of Doopler’s weapons; I have removed all his money and
destroyed his drug cartels throughout the city, so now i only need take to
care of him in person.
In recent days I have heard that the great Jack Doopler is desperate and has
been abandoned by most of his subordinates, the police are after him and he
can barely survive by hiding in his old drug factories.
Then I started to get around when someone knocked on my door, it was
Christine; I opened the door and I saw her. Desperate and with a face full of
tears, kneeling on the ground begging for mercy before me, she asked me
not to kill her husband. At first I did not understand why the person who had
given me the information I used to achieve my revenge accumulated within
me for 12 years ; suddenly prevented me from the same vengeance. Then I
went crazy and hit her. Screaming, crying and blooded by my heating her,
she began to beg for mercy for her husband and herself, trying in vain to
convince me not to kill him, that she regretted what she did to her husband
and the evil that she caused him now because Jack Doopler was ill and
helpless.
Then ecstatic and excited because I would finally achieve my revenge, I
killed her. I killed Christine Douglas. Without realizing I broke her neck, and
then I hit her against the glass that was next door. I lay on the floor and I
saw my reflection in a small piece of glass, and thought about what I had
become, I became Jack Doopler.
After leaving my home, I went to the Doopler’s factory to finally fulfill my
revenge. When I arrived at the factory, I saw two of his guards. So I had to
be cautious; I moved slowly and when the guards were distracted, i shot and
killed them within seconds.
Only two minutes were enough for me to find a Doopler devastated. Without
hesitation I shot him in the leg, he woke up with a cry and opened his eyes,
he could see me and realized that I had shot him. Scared he asked me who I
was and why I shot him. Laughing I answered that I was that detective
years before he had left without a family, who sought vengeance and would

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not have mercy. With tears, he began to apologize but I rejected them and
without words I shot him in the head.
Day 5: It was 00:01 am when I called the police, confessing that I was the
one who had killed Jack Doopler, who had illegally broken into the factory
where he was hiding and attacked him causing his death.
This is how I, John Smith, a former detective of 38 years old I took revenge
on the person who killed my wife, killing him and myself.
THE END.

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It’s Just a Dream
A dark room, a floodlight illuminates me, lost in the midst of this place, I
start to run, light follows me but it lights nothing. I ran all night or all day, I
can not distinguish it, all I know is that I'm tired and I have to rest, thinking
this a sweet simmer began to emerge from my feet stretching far enough as
to lay me on it.
Lying, caressing the soft green grass, look it was light and a silver figure
covers part of it, it is a woman, but... is it floating? No, it is not, in a type of
metal bar covered by fabrics that hang and rub my almost naked body.
It sways like a hammock, it flies in it and it makes me begin to raise me
with his grace. She grabs the bar with her delicate hands and drops, holding
in her arms while her white dress flies and takes extraordinary and
magnificent figures. It has come off, she lets go of the bar and revolves in
the air like a kite's summer dancing and... It vanished, disappeared, I exalt
and I start to look for it while her gown falls, but falling I see a white dove
flies in space and I feel relaxed again.
The Trapeze is still there, still, I want to get onto it and try to jump, did it
and did not make it. Suddenly, the grasses begin to grow forming a ladder
towards the starred space along with the trapezius and I gently start to rise
up it to climb to the bar.
After repeated tricks and stunts that emanated magic, my adrenaline-filled
soul managed to dare to jump to the void, I start to balance, stronglier and
stronglier and then I jumped and holding me with my hands in the bar not
to fall, I balance more and more until I finally let go and fly forward by
turning in the air, naked, leaving all my being free with no less importance
and then, when I was about to fall, someone grabs my hands, it was a
trapeze artist on another bar by holding his legs, smiles but does not speak,
he thinks, I know it, see it in his eyes, but can not read them, he has a
pretty bright multi-coloured pair of pants and then, without warning, his
betrayal was shocking, I loose, I fell to the empty space up to touch the
grass again and I faint.
When I finally managed to wake up I'm in a room completely red, it has a
balcony but it is closed without letting me see the exterior, if one exists. At
each corner a clown watches me, at the first corner a clown high with a big
smile and a blue helium balloon, it is tall and burly, but it seems harmless,
on the other hand, clown number two looks sinister and terrifying, his suits

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worn and dirty did not help, and in his right hand he holds a mechanical
robot the size of a pear, clown number three is small, it is a child, but he is
sad and has a tear drawn on his face and he is dressed in white, his sweet
blue jumping bronco and finally, clown number four does not let see his
face, a very extravagant hat covers it and in his left hand takes a very
colorful lollipop of the size of my head. All gradually begin to approach, to
reach me, the burly clown gives me its blue globe, sinister clown turns on
his robot and it makes it walk towards me, the young boy clown jumping
towards me gives me his jumping bronco, the clown in the extravagant hat
gives me his lollipop, all give me an offering, and I receive them warmly a
little bewildered I climb up to the bronco, attach the balloon to my wrist so it
always flies together with me, taking the robot I put it in my jacket pocket
close to my chest so you see what I see, then I take the lollipop and try it
with grace and I thank them all, they open the door of the room and finally I
go outside.
I lay in an extraordinary landscape, mountains and a large Blue Lake show
off in the sunny day, the trees on the sides dance with the wind and the
birds sing. Jumping in the apparatus of the sweet child by the Meadow next
to the shade of the trees and the reflection of its leaves and its colours on
my face, nothing could be more perfect until, without realizing it, a small
insect begins to stand in my view, its wings were transparent butin the light
it radiated violet, blue, green, yellow colours and so on, I started to leave
the path and from a second to the other I fell into a bottomless pit, dark and
damp, unable to hold to any root or anything similar, I fell and fell for hours
and I turn round to see if it had a bottom and I see a light at the end, a light
that radiated hopeless reality and in the end I can touch it.
What happened? I remember nothing, just my dream, whose is this House?
Broken everywhere, glass, tablets and pills, bottles of alcohol, I think... This
is Joy’s house, Yes, the party, who is this girl? My head aches, what has
happened with the clown? And the landscapes? And the trapeze artist? I
think that it was a damned dream.

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The Unexpected Disappearance
This story begins with the disappearance of two children, of only eight and
ten years old. Already three hours have happened from the incident. His
father Juan drove to despair, these wretched hours turned into eternal and
exasperating moments.
This happened at 3:00 PM, when the children went out of the school and
nobody knew of them. After half an hour their father called the police
desperately, which would help to investigate on the case.
The hours passed and everything was the same, nobody knew anything of
them and in the scene of the crime there were not witnesses.
The police were not finding other strategies of search; although they were
confused and exhausted, they did not give up.
After a few days the case was discovered and solved…
https://www.dropbox.com/lightbox/home/bbaingles3: ending 1
https://www.dropbox.com/lightbox/home/bbaingles3: ending 2

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Fallen in Combat
Day one after the catastrophe:
I’m in a bunker fifteen feet below the ground and walls of 2.5 feet. The
highly touted as the safest in the country, the one with the most unstable
but “controllable” Reactor core, has suffered a “Nuclear meltdown” causing it
to explode, destroying half of the city with the explosion and leaving the city
highly contaminated. I am locked in here with I think, maybe 30 or forty
people. We can’t get out, radiation levels are really high. Dallas, one of the
survivors, is a reservist of the army, and he tells he can get us out of here,
destroying one of the walls of the bunker with the emergency explosives. We
voted, in two days we leave this place.
Day four after the catastrophe:
Everything is going from bad to worse. The calculations of Dallas failed, and
he destroyed the north corner of the bunker, burning almost all the
provisions, three Hazmat suits, and killed two more, not counting Dallas.
Now we have news: the explosion of the Nuclear Reactor in reality was a
Russian attack. The country is in war and the help won’t come that faster
like we think.
Here is confusion. I'm doubting of the air seal. It activates after explosions,
but I think, it’s not trustable.
Day seven after the catastrophe:
Some people commit suicide, there’s too much pressure, I try it too, but my
strength fails me. The food and the water start to get scarce. I see some
people in the gun shop; I know they are planning something, and probably
they want all, water, food, weapons, etc.
I have my personal gun, but I can’t kill all of them. I’m scared and my gun
doesn’t help. I feel tension every time someone walks near another person.
Yesterday they slashed someone when he was sleeping. Since then we don’t

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sleep. I hear the radio, the war continues, but the computer can’t detect
more signals.
Day 10 after the catastrophe:
The tension explodes. I hear shootings. They are killing for a glass of water
and three cans of food. I can kill one, but I think they kill five of my side.
One of them was killed by stabbing, it was horrible. I see all from the
computer of the communication room, where I was locked. He was there
bleeding to death. I have to escape when no one can see me, steal a
Hazmat suit and get the hell out of here.
Day eleven after the catastrophe:
The confrontation finished, some died and the generator stopped working. I
must go to find that outfit. I think I can defend myself.
It was horrible to see that, at the end they committed suicide and destroyed
the generator. Here there’s no energy, therefore the radiation starts to leak,
and I have doubts of my survival.
Day fifteen after the catastrophe:
There are no more hazmat suits, they slash me with the outfit and now it is
useless. I lost too much blood, I don’t think I can make it. I check the
computer before the auxiliary light goes out. The Russians are winning this
war. I hear noises. They steal my gun and I’m helpless. I’m feel dizzy. I
don’t have more tablets of iodine and I vomited 3 or 4 times. I’m going to
die.
Day sixteen after the catastrophe:
I’m dying in the debris of this destroyed city, surrounded by the bodies of
the scum of the human race, I will not last one hour more. I decided to blow
up the entire bunker, it’s a preferable way to die. Hopefully this information
will be received in Moscow.
I declare myself fallen in combat.