Post by tcn on Jul 4, 2007 11:09:29 GMT -5
The Flight Of Angels by TCN
Maria Roblero arrived alone at El Dorado International Airport in Bogotá surrounded by memories she wanted to escape. Flickering blue lights flared and circled around the pale-face of this well dressed woman in white patent-leather pumps. The pink silk of her dress clung neatly over her naked shoulders displaying the pearls that adorned her neck. She looked sinfully modest with downcast eyes and ponytail hairdo; afraid to breathe the air, to look into the eyes, the faces, to leave any kind of mark on the surface of others as she climbed the red carpeted stairs to the upper level.
A group of college students wearing brightly-colored bermuda shorts and overcoats were standing around the El Llano En Llamas Restaurant, looking at a map as if they were lost. Maria wondered what would be the last thing they saw in this country before their plane departed to the States. The sounds of cheerful voices coming from the kitchen grew louder and rolled so beautifully with the smell of coffee, warm bread and peanuts. Her nerves tightened as she took a seat at the end of the bar.
The restaurant was full to capacity and a man with a microphone appeared on stage from behind a heavy blue and gold curtain. He was addressing the audience as he held out a deck of cards. Maria tuned him out along with the laughter of the entertained crowd. She felt her whole life had been determined by a card game, a roulette wheel. Trembling, she felt terrible embarrassment.
A strange sensation played over her skin and she shuddered as a handsome middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair explored her thighs. He found only goose bumps and old scars as he leaned into her. She recogized him from her village.
"Hello, Maria. You didn't mind traipsing all the way over here, did you? He said.
"Did I have a choice?" She replied.
"The world is filled with choices, Maria. What's the name of the game they play?" He asked as he motioned to the man on stage.
"Don't you know? I thought you were good at playing games." Maria replied.
"If I knew I wouldn't be asking you." He said as he waved the bartender over with his hand ordering two Aguardientes.
The bartender wasted no time in accomodating him.
"Sugarcane of my valleys and anise of my mountains, " He said as he tipped his crystal shot glass against hers.
Adolpho Murano was the kind of man that the local people feared. He was wealthy and used to being catered to but deep within him was a savagery that loved to take advantage of beauty, innocence and tragedy.
"Drink. Do you not like it here?" He asked.
"I prefer a more casual and cozy atmosphere." Maria replied with disdain.
"Sometimes we just have to accept the imcompatibility of systems, Maria." He said.
She hated the way he said her name. She hated his voice, his touch. And everytime she looked into his eyes, she remembered the incident back in her village when he approached the child of Ernesto Gutierrez at the Aguas Escondidas breakfast grill. The little boy was sitting at a table eating the soft white pulp of a slice of bread when Adolpho put a bullet into his head. Payback for the child's father not making good on a loan.
"This restaurant has sentimental value for me, " He continued. "My ex wife held her divorce party here. Right before I killed her. After I got through with her the authorities couldn't tell if it was a man or woman lying in a pool of blood."
He held one of Maria's arms low behind her back as he spoke.
"I understand." Maria said.
She was only eighteen but old enough to trust her instincts when it came to men like Murano. She would not struggle with the dilemma of free will or whether she did or didn't have a choice in the matter.
"Are you ready to go?" He asked.
Maria gave a half smile and said, "Yes."
They made their way to the hotel which was located five minutes away from El Dorado International Airport and seven blocks to the United States Embassy. The room was decorated in different shades of rose and amethyst. Maria imagined herself standing on a high cliff where a mighty Angel came to her defense throwing all the cruelty, sex and tears into the sands below, as Adolpho made her undress.
On his hands, in the breath of his mouth, was the slick scent of Maria's coconut musk body lotion. They fell into the bed, having sex. They stood in front of mirrors, having sex. They pressed against the glass of the steaming shower stall, having sex. And each time Adolpho slammed Maria against a wall or into the furniture, she envisioned herself back at the Airport lounge.
With every finger that raced over her body she saw the whirl of lights and her father's hands over a deck of cards. With every thrust and sudden shriek of pain, the roulette wheel increased its speed. The wheel of fortune held her fate and so she submitted, as Adolpho drew more and more into his power.
Gambling wasn't a choice for her father but a condition that held consequences, rules and balances.
"You're the best bet I've ever won, " Adolpho said.
The scent of Her lingered in the hotel hall long after he left. Long after he did everything to her that a man could possibly do to a woman.
In Colombia at mid-morning the church bells ring mingling with the sounds of tourism and poverty. What an individual sees before their plane takes off depends on their circumstance, like the end of one world or the beginning of another.
Maria Roblero arrived alone at El Dorado International Airport in Bogotá surrounded by memories she wanted to escape. Flickering blue lights flared and circled around the pale-face of this well dressed woman in white patent-leather pumps. The pink silk of her dress clung neatly over her naked shoulders displaying the pearls that adorned her neck. She looked sinfully modest with downcast eyes and ponytail hairdo; afraid to breathe the air, to look into the eyes, the faces, to leave any kind of mark on the surface of others as she climbed the red carpeted stairs to the upper level.
A group of college students wearing brightly-colored bermuda shorts and overcoats were standing around the El Llano En Llamas Restaurant, looking at a map as if they were lost. Maria wondered what would be the last thing they saw in this country before their plane departed to the States. The sounds of cheerful voices coming from the kitchen grew louder and rolled so beautifully with the smell of coffee, warm bread and peanuts. Her nerves tightened as she took a seat at the end of the bar.
The restaurant was full to capacity and a man with a microphone appeared on stage from behind a heavy blue and gold curtain. He was addressing the audience as he held out a deck of cards. Maria tuned him out along with the laughter of the entertained crowd. She felt her whole life had been determined by a card game, a roulette wheel. Trembling, she felt terrible embarrassment.
A strange sensation played over her skin and she shuddered as a handsome middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair explored her thighs. He found only goose bumps and old scars as he leaned into her. She recogized him from her village.
"Hello, Maria. You didn't mind traipsing all the way over here, did you? He said.
"Did I have a choice?" She replied.
"The world is filled with choices, Maria. What's the name of the game they play?" He asked as he motioned to the man on stage.
"Don't you know? I thought you were good at playing games." Maria replied.
"If I knew I wouldn't be asking you." He said as he waved the bartender over with his hand ordering two Aguardientes.
The bartender wasted no time in accomodating him.
"Sugarcane of my valleys and anise of my mountains, " He said as he tipped his crystal shot glass against hers.
Adolpho Murano was the kind of man that the local people feared. He was wealthy and used to being catered to but deep within him was a savagery that loved to take advantage of beauty, innocence and tragedy.
"Drink. Do you not like it here?" He asked.
"I prefer a more casual and cozy atmosphere." Maria replied with disdain.
"Sometimes we just have to accept the imcompatibility of systems, Maria." He said.
She hated the way he said her name. She hated his voice, his touch. And everytime she looked into his eyes, she remembered the incident back in her village when he approached the child of Ernesto Gutierrez at the Aguas Escondidas breakfast grill. The little boy was sitting at a table eating the soft white pulp of a slice of bread when Adolpho put a bullet into his head. Payback for the child's father not making good on a loan.
"This restaurant has sentimental value for me, " He continued. "My ex wife held her divorce party here. Right before I killed her. After I got through with her the authorities couldn't tell if it was a man or woman lying in a pool of blood."
He held one of Maria's arms low behind her back as he spoke.
"I understand." Maria said.
She was only eighteen but old enough to trust her instincts when it came to men like Murano. She would not struggle with the dilemma of free will or whether she did or didn't have a choice in the matter.
"Are you ready to go?" He asked.
Maria gave a half smile and said, "Yes."
They made their way to the hotel which was located five minutes away from El Dorado International Airport and seven blocks to the United States Embassy. The room was decorated in different shades of rose and amethyst. Maria imagined herself standing on a high cliff where a mighty Angel came to her defense throwing all the cruelty, sex and tears into the sands below, as Adolpho made her undress.
On his hands, in the breath of his mouth, was the slick scent of Maria's coconut musk body lotion. They fell into the bed, having sex. They stood in front of mirrors, having sex. They pressed against the glass of the steaming shower stall, having sex. And each time Adolpho slammed Maria against a wall or into the furniture, she envisioned herself back at the Airport lounge.
With every finger that raced over her body she saw the whirl of lights and her father's hands over a deck of cards. With every thrust and sudden shriek of pain, the roulette wheel increased its speed. The wheel of fortune held her fate and so she submitted, as Adolpho drew more and more into his power.
Gambling wasn't a choice for her father but a condition that held consequences, rules and balances.
"You're the best bet I've ever won, " Adolpho said.
The scent of Her lingered in the hotel hall long after he left. Long after he did everything to her that a man could possibly do to a woman.
In Colombia at mid-morning the church bells ring mingling with the sounds of tourism and poverty. What an individual sees before their plane takes off depends on their circumstance, like the end of one world or the beginning of another.
and 
all
time for me 
echoes, hope you all are doing well 
