[SP] A Timeless Opening for a Timeless Classic of Magic Realism
The sun set on the horizon. On a veranda looking out into the purple panorama, a man and a youth sat. The man was passing on some important advice to the youth, punctuating his speech with vigorous hand motions as the late day shadows stretched across the beachfront walk. The business day was closing, and the laughter of merchant children echoed in the youth's ears as he attempted to pay attention to what the man was saying. Two lovers strolled by, and the youth watched them split the infinite sea of humanity.
Suddenly, a band of gypsies appeared in the street. They were magnificently dressed, wrapped in brightly colored sequins and plumed vests. The men drove horse carts, while women with large baskets balanced on top of their heads walked beside them. In the rear, groups of children struggled to keep up with the procession. A girl of eighteen walked among the children, and the youth's eyes locked onto hers. The girl's green eyes glowed through the black curls on her cheeks. She stared back at the youth as she passed. The sun set, and the man asked the youth if he was listening.
Several hours later, when the sun was long gone and the moon watched the lovers of the world with one eye closed, the youth made his way to the camp of the gypsies. As the fires burned low, the youth stole glances into each tent, searching. At last, he found the one in which the girl slept, along with several others.
Silently, he made his way to the curls, and put a hand on her sleeping shoulder. He turned her over--but gently, enough so when she felt his touch, she opened her eyes, but made no sound. With a blink of surprised recognition, she gave him her hand, and he led her out of the tent. The two walked for a spell in the outlying forests, their purple shadows trailing in the moonlight, until they arrived at a golden grassy plain.
The horizon glowed in front of them. The two shadows merged as one.
At dusk the next night, the youth once again sat at the veranda, this time alone. His feet rested on a railing next to a beer and the setting sun. A curled silhouette approached him from behind, and put a hand on his shoulder. The two figures remained still, watching the sun complete its descent. Yellow, orange, purple. In the last glimmer of the fading twilight, the girl leaned over and kissed the youth on the cheek. The darkness arrived, and the girl was gone.
The next morning, the sun rose to find the youth still at the table. His head was buried in his arms, and his shoulders shook.
Nine months later, a baby boy was born to the girl.
THE HORSE IS TAKEN
Twenty-six years later, the gypsy child went looking for a horse. Miguel entered a stable office where an old man sat, feet propped up on a desk.
The old man looked up, and spoke.
"Ah Miguel, I suppose you have come for a horse."
"That is correct."
"There is one left, but it has no name."
"I'll take it."
The old man stared in disbelief, and then shrugged. “As you wish.” His feet dropped heavily to the floor, and he leaned forward to shout, "Pepe!"
A small boy walked in.
The boy did not move immediately, looking from the old man to Miguel and back in confusion.
"Hondale!" barked the old man.
The boy looked once more to Miguel, uncertainty in his eyes.
"Please come with me, senor."
Miguel followed the boy out the back door. The old man put his feet back up on the desk, and closed his eyes.
The boy held out to Miguel the reins of the last horse in the stable. Miguel took them, but the boy did not immediately let go. Instead, he spoke, "Senor Miguel, a horse with no name will take you nowhere."
“Who said I am going somewhere?”
Miguel took the reins from the boy's hand, and put a gold piece in it. Then he threw his pack on the horse's rump, and walked the horse off into the sandy, desolate plains stretching out infinitely in front of them.