PROYECTO BILINGÜE: Learning through English

FELICIDADES

a los brillantes ganadores en la categoría Relatos en

Inglés del Concurso Literario Multilingüe 2023-24

Estamos emocionados de anunciar a los talentosos escritores cuyas obras han sido galardonadas este año: AITOR RUIZ MENGOTTI, EVA RODEA SEGORBE y VEGA GARCÍA PINARDO. Los relatos que compartimos aquí con vosotros reflejan la creatividad y el ingenio de nuestros estudiantes.

Sin duda, las obras ganadoras han cautivado nuestros corazones y enriquecido nuestra comunidad literaria. Únete a nosotros y descubre por qué el talento literario del IES Laguna de Joatzel brilla con luz propia en este emocionante certamen.

¡ENHORABUENA a los ganadores y GRACIAS a todos los participantes!

Nos vemos en la siguiente edición de este maravilloso Multilingual Literary Contest.

Never Give Up

Victor was a boy, when he was four years old, his parents encouraged him to play a sport that, in addition, they liked. Handball was its name. A sport, that most of the people think is tedious, nevertheless, he didn't think that.

His first day was pretty special for him, he wanted to make new friendships. His coach's name was Juan, he introduced himself. He started teaching him the rules, techniques, tricks... Victor was freaking out, it seemed it was easy and entertaining. After his first training session, he thanked his parents (Jesus and Cristina) for encouraging him to play this wonderful sport. Actually, his coach was very kind, pleasant... even though he wanted a high intensity from his players.

Some years later, it was crystal clear that he'd like to be a professional player come rain or shine. But he unfortunately suffered a quite serious injury, he broke his femur during a match. The opponent hit him accidentally when he tried to defend Victor.

Since that dramatic moment, he tried to overcome it. For a few months he thought his dream wasn't going to be accomplished. His parents tried to cheer him up and they told him that he could find another hobby. So, he started to collect things like coins, souvenirs.

However, his doctor said that he'd get over his injury. Yes indeed, he'd better be more careful when playing handball and he could start playing but not at one hundred percent, because there was a risk that it could get worse. During the next few years he participated in different tournaments and competitions, in fact, he travelled all over Spain. He won some trophies both individually and collectively. When he reached eighteen, he decided not to become a professional player. He chose to be a coach, because he could train for many years. If he became a professional player, he could only play until he turned thirty four years old. He decided to go to a modest team.

The apprentices were pretty young and they showed a huge interest in his lessons and trainings. In his first season as a coach, they performed a miracle. They won the league. He was very proud of the kids. He deserved it.

By Aitor Ruiz Mengotti - First Cycle Category

ASHLEY

Among the greyness of the gloomy afternoon a bouquet of flowers sways gently with the wind. Smelling its gentle aroma, I allow myself to be swept away by my memories.

When I was a teenager, I suffered from an extremely contagious disease that made me depend entirely on my parents, who covered my expenses and made sure I received the medical assistance I required. They were the only ones who paid me visits apart from my doctor, a surprisingly nice man that tried his best to cheer me up.

Living alone was a true burden. The only communication I had with the world was the landline, although I never used it because the illness had made a horror out of my voice. I had no contact with anyone my age —who would like to be friends with a sick creep anyway?— and as time passed, I felt more depressed. The upbeat letters from my family didn't help. Words written on paper will never have the same effects as spoken ones.

One day I woke up to the creaky sound of the kettle. "I don't recall Doc saying he would pull up this early" I thought. I headed to the kitchen, where I almost had a heart attack. There was someone preparing tea in my house. I should've breathed too loudly as the woman tuned around. No, not a woman, a girl. My age, or that's what I assumed; she was wearing such protections against contagion that her face could barely be seen.

—I suppose you're the sick one, uh? You don't look that bad —I did not reply. I lacked the strength to explain that the symptoms of my illness were not physical - So you're not a big fun of talking, are you? —Again silence— I'll have to put up with your shyness, then. I'm Ashley. Want some tea? - she asked, handing me over a cup.

She was quite talkative and told me my parents had paid her to take care of me. She would be at home all day, five days a week. I considered her work schedule too harsh considering she didn't reach the age of majority. She wasn't bothered, though, because her mother was never at home plus she needed some money to make ends meet.

At first, I found her presence uncomfortable. I had never had a girl friend, not to say one who stayed long hours in my house and that was paid for it. However, her cheerfulness ended up making my day. Whenever I saw her, my heart bumped louder in my chest and when she smiled, I could tell by the wrinkles around her eyes, I couldn't help but to do so, too. I finally had something that motivated me to fight my illness back.

When I was the happiest I had ever been since catching the disease, she stopped coming. Although I asked for her, no one gave me any answers. I thought the only way I could ever meet her again was overcoming my illness, so for months I worked very hard, fantasising with the idea of finally seeing her again, no masks or goggles involved.

Somehow, I was able to get back on my feet, but all I could think about was her. Once my doctor let me leave the house, I ran to the high school where she studied. "You don't know, right?" was the only answer of the principal when I asked for her.

Some say that grieving someone's death is more difficult to overcome than an illness. For the next few weeks, I had nightmares in which Ashley was beat to death by the moneylenders she had failed to pay. I should've known something was really wrong when she told me about her family. She had always shown up as a gleeful girl and I had been naive enough not to see past that. She never mentioned her mother's addiction to cocaine or her debts, the true reason why she needed the job.

Up to this day I still ask myself questions that don't matter anymore, such as: Why her and not me? I was the sick one, after all. She was healthy and beautiful, and did not deserve her fate. And still, her grave lies in the murky cemetery. And still, I'm here leaving her flowers.

By Eva Rodea Segorbe - Second Cycle Category

In the Darkness

In the darkness of the night, seeing any light surprises you, but even more so if you see it in the distance while walking through a forest. María had been out partying; her friends had been drinking, so she preferred not to ride with them in the car. It was 3 in the morning, and she took the shortest path, which was through a forest. Maria wasn't afraid of anything, so she wasn't afraid to walk through the forest alone. She had battery in her phone to use her flashlight, but she decided that the moonlight was enough for her to walk. She had been walking for a while when she saw a flickering light in the distance.

She was a bit surprised, but she thought it might be another person wanting to go home, just like her; many groups took that path for shortness. There was nothing to be heard, and silence was what María liked least because it allowed her to focus on her thoughts, and they didn't please her. Whenever she was silent, she thought about her father, about how he abandoned her when she was just a child, and she always blamed herself for it.

She didn't believe everything they said about him. The whole town thought her father was a murderer and that's why he fled, the day he disappeared, they found Maria's mother dead in the lake of a neighbouring town. She never considered the possibility that her father could be the murderer, but people's insistence seemed overwhelming to her. Left orphaned and with no other family, she had to move to a new town with a foster family.

At first, she didn't like the change; more than sad, she was angry about the change in her life, but she learned to accept it. In that house, there were 5 siblings, all fostered by Pablo and Claudia, the foster parents. After some long months, María managed to get along well with her new siblings. Ten years had passed since then; now she was 18 years old, but the memory of her father never left her head, unless her mind was occupied. That's why she was always listening to music or talking, so as not to allow herself to think about him.

After thinking about her father, María returned to reality and saw the flickering light again; it was almost as if it wanted her to follow its trail. Maria did it; she was too curious to know what that light was. She deviated from her path and entered another path that seemed to lead to a very old house. The flickering light came from there, so she peeked through the window. She was surprised to see what was inside the house; there was food, clothes, and a bed. The flickering light was a big flashlight. Suddenly, she saw a man coming out of the house. María tried to hide, but it was too late; the man had already seen her. María decided to be brave and turned around to see the man; she thought he couldn't do her any harm and that he was just a vagabond living in the forest.

When she saw the man's face, María screamed "DAD," and the man looked at her strangely. As the man got closer to María, he recognized his daughter's eyes; the heterochromia inherited from her mother was very hard to mistake. Mario, as the father was called, began to run very fast, and María ran after him. "Dad, please don't abandon me again, please dad, I love you so much," María repeated over and over as she ran after her father. María stopped and said to him, "I did it for you because I knew Mom didn't make you happy, and alone, we were going to be the perfect family". Mario abruptly stopped; his daughter's words had left him stunned; he knew what happened, but he fled because the police were after him since, after seeing his daughter with the knife in her hand, he took it away, and his fingerprints were marked there. He found the forest house in a nearby village and decided to hide there.

Mario turned around and addressed his daughter, "I have been fleeing for 10 years for the crime you committed, I loved your mother, and you took her away from me, you have taken everything I had, and I didn't confess because you are my daughter." María was crying, and Mario hugged her, saying, "You are my daughter, I gave your life, and I'm going to take it away; that way, people will be right, and I'll be a murderer. I'll have a reason to hide." Suddenly, he pulled out a knife from his pants pocket and stabbed Maria in the chest. On the ground, María said to him, "I just wanted you to be happy," and Mario replied, "Now I am".