martes, 17 de febrero de 2009

A jolly good way to celebrate the coming carnival is reading "Brick Lane", by Monica Ali, a thought-provoking story by a half Bangladeshi who lives in Britain.
Another good way to keep updated with British letters is "The God of Small Things", by Arundhati Roy, an Indian-born lady who has a wonderful sensitivity for the small things in life.
If you are of those who favour action, any story by Ian Rankin, following the steps of his well-known inspector Rebus in Edimburgh will do. You may also like P.D. James and her introspective stories of Dalgliesh and his investigative team.
If any of these is not your cup of tea, there is more for you, just let me know. Cheers.

lunes, 16 de febrero de 2009

EOI Carabanchel Writing Awards: " The Tale of the Parrot and the Canary"

Please welcome dearest student Hector Nicolás Gómez, third award for NI. Enjoy your reading and feel free to post your coments here!

"The tale of the parrot and the canary "


The pet shop is dark and quiet; there is only a soft buzz from the fluorescent light over them. However everything is going to change within a few minutes. The sunlight will get into the shop and everyone will be woken up by one of the most amazing shows they have ever seen.

In fact, some of them are already wide awake, Mrs Hen and her little chickens are always in the row, of course, and they would not miss it for all the tea in China!

Little by little the sun is rising and near the shop window there is an amazing, large, yellow steel cage. From there, the most graceful, coloured feather parrot is starting to sing. Mr and Mrs Rabbit are waking their kids up so that they enjoy this wonderful performance. Everyone is listening to him really excited. When the show finishes all of the animals in the pet shop clap with enthusiasm and the young parrot always says: “Thank you so much, I am really grateful and I hope you want to listen to me again tomorrow morning”. After clapping over and over they start their daily routine happier than ever expecting next morning to listen to the parrot chanting other beautiful song. Yes, everyone is looking forward to listening to the young parrot but one, who lives in the opposite corner. Actually, he is always looking down on everyone in the shop, it seems as if he was the only one who is able to sing properly, “the best singer in the world” he usually says, how proud of himself and self-centred he is. It is true he studied and practised long hours before singing for the first time, his vocal technique is almost perfect and his chant is surprisingly melodious. However, despite the fact that he knows a lot of theory he was only able to sing just one song! Believe or not it is the truth.

Next morning, after imitating the chant of the cocks the young parrot was asked if he knew how to write what he had just sung. The young parrot, of course, did not know how to do it. How on earth he was going to know, he was too young for it otherwise he would be a very experience parrot, and he was not so far. In fact, everything he knew he had learnt it by ear, just listening and imitating and as far as he knew it was the best way to become a very good singer. He had never thought about it and the canary question shocked him. Anyway he tried to write it down, but he was not able to do it.

From now on the young parrot stopped singing and he was determined to find out what he was supposed to know before singing. First of all he made some strange drawings, but naturally it did not make sense, secondly he bought some books, music and theory for beginners, but he did not understand a thing. That was a sort of obsession for him. As a result no one in the shop could enjoy his extraordinary voice.

Time went by, and the rest of the animals were really sad, the atmosphere had change dramatically. A few weeks ago everything was happiness, all of them waiting excited the daily performance, but now what they heard is the same song, nice but boring at the same time, or what would you think if someone close to you say the same phrase all the time? No variety, perfect pronunciation, no grammar mistakes, interesting vocabulary about the subject…but unable to speak without a paper or an outline.
Everyone wished everything was different. However, one peaceful night as all of the animals were asleep the young parrot started to sing. Surprisingly he was asleep too, so he was not realizing what he was doing. Mr. Hamster woke his wife up, Mrs. Dog called her puppies and little by little all of them were listening astonished how well the young parrot was chanting. As soon as the song was over, the whole shop burst out clapping, shouting and laughing again. –At last the young parrot has come back to sing! Suddenly the parrot woke up and saw all his friends cheering him up and clapping delighted.

– What happens? He asked.
– Do not know you have just sung, my fellow? Oh, kid, it was fantastic!

The canary was also amazed, he could not believe it, nevertheless it was true, this was the most beautiful melody he had ever listened, and it was just an improvisation!

This remarkable event changed everything in the shop. Since then the canary realised how important it is to listen and imitate when you are learning something new. Having resources in your mind and knowing how to use it, as a result you will be able to express what you feel, what you think and everyone will understand what you want you say. Reading and writing are skills you will need in the future but first of all what you really do in your life is learning the oral and audition skills.
That was what our young parrot did. And while he was growing up the canary was in charge of teaching him how to write and eventually how to read.

EOI Carabanchel Writing Awards: "Under the Sky"

Please welcome dearest student Pablo Fernández Castro, 2nd prize winner for NI. Enjoy your reading and feel free to post!

"Under the Sky"

Nowadays people don’t look at the sky…I remember that phrase every time I look up and I see the moon. I even hear his voice pointing out the stars and reciting their names…That’s true. People have no time to watch the beauty held in the sky of a starry night. And in fact, in the past I used to do the same, but one day a man changed my way to see the firmament.

I met him in a summer night during the recovery of my younger sister. She broke her left arm playing tennis and she had to be operated on and rest in hospital few weeks. In the past I used to smoke and, you know, that’s forbidden in hospitals, so I found the way to a lonely terraced roof near her hospital room. One of the nights I had to take care of her I wanted to go up there to light a cigarette. When I came in the terrace I saw him, under the moonlight, looking up with a telescope made of rolls of toilet paper and wearing a hospital coat.

- “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to fright you!” he said to me with a naughty smile.

I wasn’t frightened, but yes surprised by the scene. That old man with a long white wavy beard and his hospital coat flowed by the breeze...

- “Merlin, can I sit beside you and smoke a cigarette?” I asked smiling because of my funny remark.

- “Of course, my dear little Lancelot” He replied witty to me. “We’ll watch the dance of the planets”.

- “But I haven’t got a telescope!”

- “You don’t need magnification to see the stars” he said to me.

- “So, why you use a telescope?” I asked just about to burst out laughing.

- “Cos I am an astronomer,” he said to me very serious. “Cos I’m an astronomer. Have you ever seen an astronomer without telescope? Golfers use golf clubs, doctors use stethoscopes, you have to use an umbrella if it’s raining and, it’s clear, astronomers need a telescope. But for you it isn’t necessary. Look, you can see the Polaris star, the Cygnus constellation…and the moon…always the moon…Can you see that star? Yes? It’s Sirius, the brightest star in the firmament from the earth. What sign are you? Sagittarius? Look at that white line crossing the sky; it’s called the Milky Way. Well, those two stars inside it belong to Sagittarius, can you see them?”

- “Yes, it sounds really interesting” I said lighting my cigarette.

- “Interesting? No, little Lancelot, that is magical. Nowadays people don’t look at the sky, it’s a pity. People think that there are many more important things to do before lose a minute watching the stars...it’s a pity, isn’t it? Think in the moon, boy. It appears, disappears and reappears again. She has been doing it since the earth can be called earth...and she will continue doing that until the last day of this blue planet. Do you really think there are more important things to do than stare at her, even only a minute every day and watch this cycle?”


Suddenly a woman came in the terrace. She was about forty years old, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a pretty face, but it seemed that she was really worried. When she saw us she took a deep breath, soothed. I took into account that she looked like the old man. I thought she had to be part of his family.

- “Daddy, you should not do this. What have we said to you? You know we become worried about you” she said.

- “I know, I know...But you know there are not windows in my room” the old man said and, looking at me, he added winking an eye “You know, Lancelot, here is my Vivian. I have to shut myself in the tree...Don’t forget take care of Camelot”

- “I hope his stories were not too much boring. He loves tell stories, don’t you daddy?” she said smiling. He leant on her arm and they began to walk.

- “Bye Merlin. I’ll see you on the Round Table” I said smiling when they were going out the terrace.

I stayed alone smoking and doing spirals with the smoke and watching the sky. I put out my cigarette, I came in the hospital and I closed the door. I had a strange feeling, you know, you don’t meet every day people like that.

When I went in my sister’s hospital room she was awake:

- “Where have you gone? Were you not able to sleep? I know it, bad boy, you went to light a cigarette” she says to me as if she were mummy.

- “I was with Merlin, dear. Have you ever taken into account that nowadays people don’t look at the sky...?”

EOI Carabanchel Writing Awards: "A New Life"

Dearest student Eva Miranda Scarpa, first prize winner for NI. Enjoy your reading and post your comments here!


"A New Life"


- Max, take the rubbish out!
- Ok mom, just a sec. The match is almost finished and Manchester has just scored… In five minutes we will win the Championship!!
- Max, it is very late and you have to go to bed, so take the rubbish out now.
- But mom, I will do it later…
- I have said now.
- Ok…

When I heard that conversation, I started feeling very nervous. It was the moment I had been waiting for a long time. I was about to start a new life…

I still can remember when I was born, I mean, when I was created in the factory. There were several hundred of us and everyone was anxious; in fact we only had one thing in mind: our aim was simply to become something important. Sometimes we liked to talk about what we would like to become; some of my colleagues wanted to be part of a plane or a rocket, but we were pretty sure we did not want to become a tin of tomatoes or a can of coke. That must be so sad, so boring. Definitely not, our lives had to be exciting...

However that is exactly what we are: tins, cans and so on. Before leaving the factory, we were crammed together into the cardboard boxes and were taken to different supermarkets, malls and shops by dirty, noisy and overcrowded lorries.

I hope everything to be different next time; tomorrow morning I will be picked up and been recycled, I am raring to go. Anyway I am not going to build up my hopes because I am not likely to be something different from a tin or a can. However, what I would like to become is a piece of a car to be able to travel around the country but who knows…

Hey, what is happening? Someone is picking some bags up, but he is not the dustman, who are you? Where are you taking me to? Oh, metal God! I have a very bad feeling about this. Wait a moment, there is no need to panic. Let me think… he might be an artist! Of course, one of those who like working with real things, one of those who think everything may be art. After all, I am a beautiful tin and I am almost new. Yeah, I am starting to think I am going to be part of a work of art, I am so lucky! Maybe I will be put on display in a museum where thousand of people will be looking at me and speaking about what amazing sculpture it is:

- “It is strong and revolutionary”

- “No dear, I think it represents the human being triumph: every device, machine and object is below the man”

I am looking forward to getting the artist’s studio. I am sure it will be an untidy place, full of junk which he uses to create his masterpieces: tyres, tins, plastic bags, ropes and all kind of things. Wow, it will be very exciting!

The artist has picked me up and has thrown me not very carefully into the boot of a car. The boot smells a bit musty and everything is in darkness. We have been driving for hours but, suddenly, the car has stopped which means we have arrived at the studio. It is a very strange and filthy place, not very big, with a lot of things lying on the floor. What a mess!

After staying in a dusty corner of the room for a long time, it seems that he is going to start his work. First of all, he has taken me and has made holes in my skin. Next he has filled me up with a weird mixture of powder, screws and nuts. I can not understand anything, what a strange sculpture I am going to be! But it does not matter; it will be so surprising and shocking that everybody will be impressed. One moment, I have realised I am not the only one but… what are the others doing inside a casserole? Definitively, the art world is unpredictable.

At last I think the artist has finished his work. I am inside a casserole as well, he has put the lid on it and now… the art gallery is our destiny! I am going to become a celebrity…

- Max, can you turn up the radio a bit, please? I can’t hear what they are talking about…

- Ok mom, coming!

“Breaking news. Sorry for interrupting the programme you were listening to but we have to announce a terrorist attack has just taken place in the centre of the city…”

EOI Carabanchel Writing Awards: "The Other Side"

Dearest student Andrés Puente Matesanz, sharing 1st prize for NA, is the author of "The Other Side". Enjoy your reading!

"The Other Side"

The reddish fat spooky moon was shimmering in the sky like never before.
At least, this is what Jake could glimpse between the sharp high cypresses and the thick fog that blurred his vision. He was driving a 67 Chevy Impala on an endless rain-washed road, and the pitch black night didn’t take the sting out.
Jake had always been successful, at his only 23 years, he had already won more than ten literature awards, and several influential publishing companies had offered him great deals. However, Jake’s only worry was Vicky.
They had been meeting for a long time, and Vicky unconsciously turned into the center of Jake’s world. They had always been a perfect couple, no argues, no fights. Doubtlessly, Jake gave up everything and threw himself into her. Even though, Vicky began to work as a war journalist and after one year of living separately she decided to split up. He used to call her and argue, but that night he overstepped the mark.
-Where are you, Jake?
- I’m driving, I’ve just crossed George’s Bridge. Vicky please come back, I can’t…
-Jake, we have now separately ways, we have talked about it…
-I know…but I can’t go on, I’d take my life before living without you.
-Oh! please… Jake, calm down , pull over the car, just pull over.
-Jake?...Jake!
Communication failed. Jake was so absentminded talking with Vicky that he was not able to dodge the stag that appeared on the road out from nowhere.
The collision made him swerve and the car spun out of control. It flipped over and rolled. Jake stroke his shoulder against the door. Although everything happened in the twinkling of an eye, he felt the pain as a bunch of needles covering his spine in slow motion. In fact it was so intense, he could feel them scratching his bones and burning his muscles.
The car went off the road ending up side down in the river. Now there was an astounding soundless in the air. Everything was motionless, so perfectly calm.
Jake was hanging down because of the tight safety-belt. His nose was bleeding and his tongue was rough and dry. Fear instantly cleared the fog from his head. The windows had shattered and water was flooding the car. He tried to unfasten in vain.
He was trapped. He knew it and he refused to fight just because he realised he was not afraid of dying. He was afraid of being alive, afraid of his loneliness and of his boredom and empty life.
This revelation overwhelmed him with an intoxicated madness. He was ashamed because of being a weak-willed, a egocentric and selfish man. However, he was truly hurt because he knew he had been nothing but a disruption in Vicky’s life.
Water rose up so he held the air in his lungs.
He closed his eyes and waited.
It was hard to believe he was going to die this way.
But he did.
He embraced darkness and reached the other side.


A sharp voice resounded in Jake’s head.
-Open your eyes Jake.
He couldn’t open them wide because of a white sparkling light which was blinding him. After a few seconds his eyes adapted and he saw a vast extension of white emptiness, there was no horizon, no sky above, no ground below, just a cold emptiness .His ears hear nothing but a lifeless silence.
However, Jake got fluster when he realised he was balancing on a tightrope. Unbelievably, he was in the middle of nowhere, staggering in a frayed rope that was floating on the air.
Suddenly, another rope appeared beside him, and Vicky was walking subtlety on it. When she arrived to Jake’s position , she waved his hand slightly. Jake was spellbound and slack-jawed.
-Hello Jake.- said Vicky softly.
-Where are we? What are we these ropes?.
-Calm down Jake. You are on the other side.
-The other side?- Answered hesitant.
-Yeah…The other side is a place where everything is possible but nothing is really what it seems. You are submerged in your subconscious, I am nothing but a visual representation of your conscience. Jake, I am not going to beat about the bush, you had an accident, the “real Vicky” was frightened and call an ambulance. They dragged you out from your car and now you are comatose in a hospital.
Her careless and cold words shocked Jake.
-I understand…I am dead and this place is as empty as my life
- Not yet. We all are walking on ropes, balancing all the while. Our ropes are unique and they change its colours as we walk through the stages of our lives. You are on a frayed and black rope right now, because you are weak and unwillingness to walk on.
-But if Pain is the line that connect me whit life, why should I hold on?
Vicky held out his hand with a gleaming scissor on it.
-I know you are dead beat and sick of pretending you are fortunate, Jake. If you want to stop walking just cut your rope. You will definitely fall into this side being free of mental pain. Nevertheless, if you are strong to walk on, I swear you that your rope will turn into a firm and colourful one. However, you will have to cut my rope and free me from your mind, accepting that it’s time for me to live my own life.
A silence reigned the air.
-Jake, will you be able to judge yourself when the sentence is your life or my loss?
-My life or your loss…- Jake muttered.
Finally, he knew the answer, he couldn’t kill himself because he hadn’t the guts and Vicky would have felt guilty of his death. Jake fumbled for the words.
-I have to walk on.
It was hard to believe he was going to cut Vicky’s rope.
But he did.
He embraced brightness and reached the real side.

EOI Carabanchel writing awards:"A Particular Paintbrush"

Dearest student Ana Stella Martínez Rodriguez, sharing 1st prize for NA, is the author of this very particular short story. Enjoy it!

“A particular paintbrush “

December 1500.
A wooden table, plenty of tools, was in the middle of the Piero’s workshop. It was there where I was born. I remember that cold and misty morning. After some days of work, my creator had finished his task: A delicate paintbrush whose thin bristles were splendid.
He put me in a little red can with the others members of my family: My grandparents (they were experts in colour mixtures), my parents (they were the best landscape drawers) and my sister (she was a portrait painter like me).
What was my name? It was Francesco and I was ready for anything. However, I had been waiting for a buyer three boring and long months. Finally I left the workshop in spring. This marvellous season gave me back all my dreams.
I heard Piero’s voice saying goodbye. A few minutes later I had crossed the Vecchio Bridge. For a short period of time I felt the humidity of the Arno River. Some children shouted on the street. Suddenly, I was placed on my owner’s table... A hand unwrapped the parcel carefully and I saw my new home.
It was a spacious workroom with two huge windows. On the left side there were dozen of canvases to put them in order. On the right side there was a cupboard. Inside it, an amount of oil paints, varnish and charcoals drawings were waiting patiently. I gazed an easel close to the windows. It held on an immaculate canvas. I thought it could be my first role as a paintbrush. Unfortunately, it wasn´t.
The beginning was extremely hard. Day after day there was nothing to do except to observe but the activity in the workroom was continuous. Aristocrats, clergymen and rich merchants arrived there to order or to buy paintings. I was learning step by step and one day I was face to face with my first challenge: The portrait of Ginevra Benci. The experience was fantastic. I was plunged into several different oil paints. Immediately I started to outline her eyes, her mouth, and her curly hair. What a pleasure! The result was surprising.
Sometimes I took a rest because my owner used to spend his time doing physical experiments and doing research. Actually, he was a genius. My next portraits were interesting, great and really well done but I can assure my favourite is a small woman portrait. It was painted from 1503 to 1506.
The painting shows two things: A landscape and a woman. The landscape represents the Earth before the human being presence. It is like a deserted nature, like a wild and harmful nature. The tiny bridge symbolizes the pas, the present and the future. The young woman is the most mysterious and suspicious woman in the world. His pale face without eyelashes, without eyebrows but with a strange smile produces lots of different feelings and interpretations. At this moment, all of you could guess the painter’s and the woman’s name.
Before the end, I am going to confess you my secret. Five centuries after my creation, I am still alive! When Leonardo da Vinci sold the Gioconda’s portrait to the king of France, he hid me between the canvas and the frame. What a brilliant idea! I am very proud of myself because I have had the honour to paint this masterpiece and we will stay together forever. Thank you Leonardo!.

Short Story Writing Contest

Dear students,
we are happy to publish and proudly announce our winners for the Short Story Writing Contest! Please welcome our dear writers:
-Intermediate awards:
Eva Miranda Scarpa for "A New Life" ( first prize)
Pablo Fernández Castro for "Under the Sky" (second prize)
Héctor Nicolás Gómez for " The Tale of the Parrot and the Canary" (third prize )
- Advanced awards:
Ana Stella Martínez Rodriguez and Andrés Puente Matesanz both sharing award for "A Particular Paintbrush" and "The Other Side" respectively.
Click on the posts above to read the winning essays and enjoy your reading. Congratulations, everybody, for sharing your excellent work with the EOI community and helping to create an interest in literature while you practise your English.
And of course, you are very welcome to post your comments and praise the winners here.