By Santiago Gamboa
Winner of the distinguished Otra Orilla Award
An unnamed writer attends the overseas Congress of Biography and reminiscence in Jerusalem. He listens to a chain of remarkable existence tales, however it is José Maturana—evangelical pastor, improving drug addict, ex-con—with his appealing story of redemption by the hands of a charismatic tattooed messiah from Miami, who fascinates the writer greater than the other. Hours after his stirring presentation to a rapt viewers, Maturana is located lifeless in his lodge room. The narrator, moved by means of Maturana’s existence tale to find the reality approximately his loss of life, will lead an research that turns the total plot of this chimerical novel on its end.
About the Author
Santiago Gamboa used to be born in Bogotá, Colombia. His debut novel, Páginas de vuelta (1995), confirmed him as essentially the most cutting edge voices in Colombian literature. He has in view that released seven novels and collections of brief tales. His journalism seems to be on a regular basis in El Tiempo (Colombia) and Cromos, and he's a standard contributor to Radio France foreign. formerly Colombia’s cultural connected in New Delhi, he at present lives in Rome.
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The scent of nachos teased me. My fingers itched to pick up a ball, to send it flying down the lane. I loved bowling. I just hadn’t done it in weeks…because of him. Of Aaron. This was where we had our first date. Where we were supposed to be having a date. Right now. A sharp pang stabbed my heart and each thud was like a hammer against my chest. How had things gotten so messed up? Before we started dating—and even during—I used to think of him as Heart Stopper; I’d see his smile and my heart would give one solid thump and then poof, stop.
Are you getting a divorce? Are we becoming a statistic? ” My father let out a startled laugh, erasing the seriousness from his face for at least two full seconds. ” He quickly waved his hands. ” I let out a deep breath and sat back down, eyeing them warily. I wasn’t ready to relax just yet. The ‘nothing like that’ left a lot of ground uncovered. For instance, they could tell me I had been adopted or something. ” I asked. I shouldn’t have. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it’d been a mistake.
And then I burst into hysterics, laughing and crying at the same time. It was a silver necklace with a pendent. The pendent was…I couldn’t fathom the words. It was a small silver heart. Shooting through the heart was a single arrow, the tip made of a black stone. Onyx. My heart leaped and I wasn’t sure my ribs could contain it long. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed, the word bubbling out of nowhere. ” It was beautiful and ironic. And I didn’t deserve it. ” The words, spoken so softly, hit me like a lead fist and went straight through my chest to my heart.