sábado, 14 de diciembre de 2013

VERSIÓN DIGITAL DEL IX CUADERNO DE PROFESORES POETAS

https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B1fED4PgU865SEdtenh5dVNvVG8/edit

¡Por fin tenemos la versión digital del IX Cuaderno de Profesores Poetas!
 
Como recordaréis, la versión impresa se publicó en verano. Habitualmente el formato digital se sube poco después, pero este año, debido a problemas técnicos de la web de referencia, se ha hecho esperar.

Sin embargo, la espera ha merecido la pena, pues ya podéis disfrutarlo online o descargarlo de forma legal y gratuita

Esta es una antología de poesía que todos los años publica el I.E.S. Francisco Giner de los Ríos de Segovia. En ella encontraréis una cuidada selección de autores y poemas, elegidos entre aquellos que, además de tocados por la vocación de la literatura, también lo estamos por la de la docencia.

Tengo el placer de participar en el Cuaderno desde 2009. En esta ocasión el poema seleccionado ha sido NÚCLEO .

Como os comenté con anterioridad en este blog, también participan 2 excelentes poetas, Luz Leira (Alba) y Noelia Illán, a las que aprecio en gran medida.

Espero que os guste. ¡Un saludo!

LEER EL IX CUADERNO DE PROFESORES POETAS 



miércoles, 27 de noviembre de 2013

PROSOFAGIA 18

La revista literaria Prosofagia alcanza su número 18. Aparte de la acostumbrada calidad de formato y contenido, este número es especial por varias razones.

En primer lugar, se ha concebido el grafismo como conceptual, creando un atractivo diseño que se extiende a lo largo de toda la revista.

En segundo lugar, el tamaño es mayor del usual. Para evitar que la experiencia lectora se vea mermada a causa de una longitud excesiva se ha eliminado, por esta vez, la sección «Sea buen albañil» .

A cambio encontraréis artículos de auténtico lujo, como el que versa sobre la nueva ortografía de 2010, firmado por el  ortotipógrafo y lexicógrafo José Marínez de Sousa. Una colaboración de nivel que denota el prestigio que esta publicación se ha ganado. 

Otros artículos de plena actualidad son los que hablan sobre el formato digital o la experiencia de los escritores independientes.

Además, podréis leer dos monográficos de gran interés: el primero dedicado a la novela Rayuela, conmemorando sus 50 años de vida y el segundo dedicado al escritor J.R.R. Tolkien. En este no solo hallaréis artículos sobre El Señor de los Anillos, sino sobre otros aspectos de la obra y universo literarios creados por el autor.

Las otras secciones habituales se mantienen: grageas literarias, fotografías, ilustraciones, humor gráfico y una cuidada selección de cuentos y poesía. Entre los poemas se encuentra uno de mi autoría, SUPERNOVA .

Por último tenéis un dossier sobre los componentes del colectivo literario La Tribu 11.

Desde aquí quiero expresar mi enhorabuena al equipo de la revista por superar las expectativas con cada nuevo número.

Para descargarla pinchad AQUÍ . Para acceder a la versión de alta calidad u obtener más información, AQUÍ . Ya sabéis que estas descargas son legales y gratuitas, pues Prosofagia no tiene ánimo de lucro y son sus propios autores los que la ofrecen al público.

Y si preferís la lectura online, podéis leerla desde esta entrada.

¡Felices lecturas!


lunes, 9 de septiembre de 2013

FACE YOUR FEARS (ASoIaF/Hogwarts Fanfic)

Disclaimer: I gain nothing from this work and I own nothing. This has no intent at copyright infringement. Characters are G.R.R. Martin's and the scenario and background elements belong to J.K.Rowling. I've just written it out of admiration for the authors and their works.
Face your Fears (ASoIaF/Hogwarts Fanfic)


The classroom was not the usual one.

 At first, this particular lesson had been supposed to be taught at no other place but the staffroom. However, some professor had complained about it and the students had been waiting until they were told about the new place to go. Thus, there they went, to a different classroom which was wide, long and large enough. In fact, it looked even larger than it really was, for every desk and chair had been removed from it. The only piece of furniture left was an old wardrobe which had never been there in the first place. The oddest thing about it was that something seemed to be moving inside it, as if trying to open its door. The Third year students at Westeros School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as they came into the room for their Defence Against the Dark Arts class, stared at it suspiciously and started wondering what its presence would mean. When all of them were inside, Professor Thoros of Myr, an amused grin of anticipation on his lips, made the huge door close behind them with a single movement of his wand and asked for silence.

 "My dear students, today we are going to put into practice the theory that I explained to you last week. Does anyone remember about the creature called boggart?"

 A doe-eyed, beautiful girl put up her hand.

"Margaery?"

"Thank you, Professor Thoros. A boggart is a creature that loves darkness. It is an amortal non-being. Nobody knows what it looks like when it's alone, because it is a shape-shifter. The boggart takes the shape of what the person who is facing it fears most. The charm that is used against this creature is the Riddikulus charm. Besides, the best way to fight against a boggart is in group, because it will make it confused and unable to keep a stable shape."

 "Excellent!"  the adult praised. "One point for your house."

 Margaery glowed. The girl was a good student though not as skilled in actual magic performance as her brother Loras. Nonetheless, she had proved herself a genius regarding potions -which came as no surprise, provided that she was granddaughter to a Master in the matter, The Queen of Thorns- and had become Professor Oberyn Martell's favourite.

 "At least one of you has done their homework. Anyway, I must be a little more precise. The Riddikulus charm is used indeed, but the incantation is not enough to defeat a boggart; the most important thing is your mental force. You have to create a hilarious image in your mind and convince yourselves that the frightening vision will turn into it. You must fight the horror with laughter. In short, you must face your deepest fears.

 "And today you are going to begin practicing it, one by one, not in group. Thus, prepare your wands and stand in line," said the teacher. Then he moved towards the wardrobe, which was wobbling. "So, that boggart within is awaiting for you to frame its shape.Who will be the brave one to start the practical lesson?"

 The students looked at each other in distress as nobody seemed to decide to volunteer. Thoros missed one of the Stark boys, Robb; undoubtedly he would have been the one to give the first step.

 "Where is Robert Stark? Why isn't he attending class today?"

Jon, Robb's half-brother, answered.

"He hasn't felt well lately, professor. He got...sick last night."

Jon blushed and Thoros understood. Of course; last night there had been full moon and Robb, although dutiful and hard-working and charming, was also a werewolf, like some others in his family. The Starks were a pure-blooded family of wizards and witches, but had the misfortune of having werewolf tendencies among them, a curse which had already cost lives time ago. Fortunately, Jon was just an Animagus; he can also transform himself into a wolf, but on his own accord and First year student Sansa doesn't have any trait of either. However, Thoros knew that the head teacher had already been warned that the next Stark child in entering the school, Arya, had the same problem. What a pity, a worthy but doomed family.

 "It is an inconvenience, but surely you would take your brother's place as a volunteer, wouldn't you, Jon?" It was a subtle command and Jon swallowed hard and placed himself in front of the shaking piece of furniture, wand in hand and decision in his eyes. "Thank you, Jon. And now the lesson starts." Thoros opened the wardrobe and everyone stared at it with mesmerized eyes.

 An unknown woman appeared and took a few steps towards Jon. The woman was dressed in plain clothes; she had long hair and nothing special or frightening about her appearance except for her face. It was not a face, properly, but a blur, a void. She stood in front of Jon. Her body language was one of rejection and the boy hesitated.

 "Now! The charm!"

 "Riddikulus!" said Jon, but his voice was barely a whisper and nothing happened. The woman stayed the same and started to move onwards.

"Jon? Think of something funny. Focus on it and repeat the charm."

"Riddikulu-riddikul... Mo-mother? Is it you?"

Thoros frowned. "It's not real. Concentrate!"

"I can't!" the boy cried in anguish "I can't harm my mother! I just can't!"

Tears began dropping from his eyes as he stood motionless and Thoros had to move fast and cast the spell himself before the boggart would reach Jon at last. The students saw in horror how the creature changed quickly into something resembling a male half-living corpse and it was then turned into a clown. Thoros denied the chill that ran up his spine and tried and comfort the embarrassed and sad boy.

 "It's alright; you don't have to be ashamed. It was just your first try; you'll pass the test next time. At least, you have put the appropriate intonation to the incantation." Jon's mouth twisted in a mockery of a smile which was immediately given up. He came back to the other students where he was welcome by his sort-of-a girlfriend and his friend Sam, who was even paler than him. Jon tried to stand tall, but he was still trembling and fighting against the tears. R'hllor, the boy looks miserable; I should have thought that his fears would have nothing to do with monsters, but with emotions.

 "Poor little Snow with his mommy issues.Thanks for the pathetic show, mudblood!" said Joffrey Baratheon with a malicious laughter and some of his followers accompanied him.

Jon glowered, but before he could reply Ygritte spoke for him.

"Shut your mouth, you piece of crap!"

"Enough!" exclaimed Professor Thoros before the argument got angrier. "Behave yourselves or your houses will be punished. One of you will be the next student to confront the boggart."

Joffrey recoiled but Ygritte glared at the non-being now turned corpse in clown's clothes with defiance.

"I will."

"Ok, Ygritte. You know what you have to do. Try to think of what you fear most and transform it in your mind beforehand."

"I'll cope with it, I'm sure. No one hurts my man." And she walked boldly, leaving behind a flushed Jon while Thoros moved aside to allow her confront the creature. Teenagers.

 The boggart shifted and took the shape of a woman, once again. She was young and beautiful and was wearing the finest and richest dress anyone could ever fancy, glamorous high heels and gorgeous jewelry. Ygritte stared at her  in astonishment and a murmur grew from behind. The young woman, almost a girl, had fiery red hair prettily combed in soft curls, lovely eyes, porcelain skin ornamented with tiny freckles that made her look charming, and a perfect white smile. She was elegant and as delicate as a princess or a lady.

 She was Ygritte herself; or it would have been if Ygritte were not so...wild. A distorted -or improved, depending on how you considered it- reflection of her. The murmur grew louder and there were some exclamations and whistles of admiration among the boys -Theon being the most enthusiastic of them. Women are going to be the death of him. Damn his Greyjoy heritage! Nevertheless, Thoros had to hide a smile himself. This is a weird kind of fear, indeed. But the boggart was quite real and dangerous.

 "Now, my brave student! There's no time for doubts."

"Riddikulus!" shouted the real Ygritte, whose face had turned as red as her hair. For a moment, the fake redhead shivered and the vision blurred and Thoros thought that the girl had succeeded. But the moment was gone and the boggart recovered the shape.

"You've almost succeeded! Try again, think of something amusing!"

"It's impossible!" Ygritte replied in anger. "I can't imagine anything more ridiculous than this!"

She was getting angrier and more scared within every second and the moment the boggart giggled and curtsied, she screamed and Thoros had to sort it out. The beautiful lady disappeared to give birth to the corpse  and then to the clown. Some of the students had time to realize that his head had been smashed mercilessly and that an eye was missing.

 "Don't worry, Ygritte. You almost got it, you only need more practice." She didn't answer, embarrassed, and came back to her place, where Jon and others tried to cheer her up. Thoros noticed that some of the teenagers were still trying to hide their amusement. Margaery Tyrell and her companions were giggling and gossiping. She will tell Sansa Stark as soon as she can. Other girls, on the contrary, were looking at Ygritte sympathetically, like Gilly or Daenerys, who was strangely more silent than she used to. The boys didn't dare to look at Ygritte for they knew she would strike back when she would get better, except for Theon, who was grinning, though he avoided making a jape -and, of course, Joffrey.

 "The mudblood and the wildling! Two of a kind! There should be stricter rules to let some people enter this school!" His cousin Lancel and other relatives as well as the Frey boys cheered his comment and Thoros got upset. The boy was insufferable and vain and he had no reasons for his vanity. His only merits came from his family wealth and importance in the Ministry of Magic, for he was but an average wizard, a coward and a mean person. He was the type who bullied the weak and little ones, but flinched from the strong. It was difficult to believe he shared Professor Tyrion's blood, of whom Thoros was very fond. Tyrion was still young but one of the most brilliant History of Magic teachers the school had ever known. And a brave and witty person. It's no surprise he doesn't like his nephew at all.

 "Joffrey, maybe you can show us all your expertise. You will be next. Be prepared."

The blond boy grimaced but kept his composure as well as he could and walked to the front of the queue, all bravado, nothing of bravery. As he was passing by, he blinked an eye to the Tyrell girl and she smiled back. Thoros could notice the disdain and contempt in the smile, but the boy only saw what he wanted to see: devotion. Such a fool. I bet I'm going to enjoy this. I'm sure there will appear some kind of monster. He had to leave Care of Magical Creatures and choose another elective subject because he had no guts to even get close to some of them. Or perhaps he'll see himself as a beggar in ragged clothes! Thoros moved away to let Joffrey face the boggart and the non-being started changing.

 That time there was no woman, no beggar Joff and no human at all. Sudden gasps spread across the classroom when the huge, grey werewolf appeared and Thoros could swear that Robb's name was mentioned by someone - Jon or Theon, of that he wasn't sure. Could well be but for the fact that the beast had two Lannister heads: one was Tywin's and the other was Tyrion's and Thoros had to use every bit of his willpower to avoid bursting into laughter. Joffrey looked terrified; his face had lost its colour and he was babbling, unable to say the single word. Four threatening eyes fixed upon him and two mouths showed their teeth as if they wanted to devour him alive. The young Baratheon panicked. The wand dropped from his trembling hand and he fell on his own back while trying to recoil. He was screaming hysterically, unable to stand up. Mischievously, Thoros let the moment linger before making a movement; he was enjoying the scene too much and knew that most of the group was so. However, the weird beast was going to jump over Joffrey, and Thoros would never allow one of his pupils get hurt without helping them. Thus, he ran and said the incantation and poor Beric Dondarrion made his appearance once again. Forgive me for what I did to you, my friend! I hope your soul found peace at last. The Lord of Light bless you! He knew for certain that night would be truly dark and full of horrors and nightmares for him and he would be praying for redemption all night long.

 "Well, Joffrey, I expect you to have learnt something from this experience. It wasn't as easy as you presumed, was it?" the adult said as he helped the boy to stand up.

 Joffrey looked daggers at him and went back to his former place in the classroom, still shuddering frantically. He will complain to his family, no doubt, and his mother will get really angry. That Cersei had been spoiling his child so much, as if he were the greatest wizard of all time and deserved everyone else's submission. She had delayed his entering their school for two years because she had decided him to be taught at home by private teachers. Definitely, they had failed in making him the greatest wizard in the world, as the rest of the students were reminding him of.

 "Professor Tyrion? Seriously ? It seems I'm not the only one with family issues," said Jon.

"You weren't even able to cast the spell! You are nothing but a braggart and know nothing, pureblood !" Ygritte screamed.

"Robb will be delighted to know about this little show. Surely I will make him know," Theon mocked at him.
"Blood of the craven!" Daenerys spat the words with disgust. Her family held a grudge against Joffrey's, for his uncle had given Dany's father to the Dementors and his father had tried to get her brother Rhaegar sacked from the Ministry of Magic. It was true that Aerys had embraced the Dark Arts after becoming insane and he had been on the verge of destroying the whole country, but Rhaegar was an upright and reliable Minister, supported by his family-in-law, the Martells. They all were powerful families that were still playing a game of seats in the Ministry. Useless struggles! Instead of worrying about what really matters, the real danger. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, R'hllor's enemy.

 For once in his life, the spoilt brat didn't reply and stayed behind, humiliated. Thoros almost felt pity for him. Almost.

 Anyway, the students' failure was not what Thoros had planned for that lesson. He wondered what the reason for it was -whether he had overestimated the teenagers' skills or had underestimated their burden of fears. Nonetheless, the general mood seemed more relaxed and he considered a bonus to motivate them.

 "Maybe I have pushed you a little further to start practising this particular theory, but I'm still sure that some of you can pass this test. Besides, the ones who can will receive 3 bonus points for their house. So, do we have another courageous volunteer?"

 There was some hesitation here and there and some of them seemed to be thinking about it when an unexpected one staggered along.

 "Samwell? Thank you very much," the teacher said.

"Well! I'm not... I do not..." the boy stammered, confused.

"C'mon! We do need the points!" said Ygritte. In fact, she had been the one who had given Sam a violent thrust to volunteer.

"But...I, I..."

"I trust you, Sam. You are a brave guy and you're smart!" Gilly encouraged him.

  Isn't she adorable? Nonetheless, her words made Sam make his mind and take his wand with resolution. Teenagers.

 "Alright, Sam. Be prepared!" Thoros told him.

 And the boggart changed.

 Firstly, it took Samwell's father's looks but the vision was a little blurred. Before the image became clear, it shifted into a faceless woman dressed in fancy clothes. Immediately, it became a corpse and then, a wolfish monster and then, a giant spider and then...

 For R'hllor's sake! Is there anything in this world he's not afraid of? 

 Everybody else was silent, too astonished to say a word or make a jape. To Sam's credit, it had to be pointed out that he didn't make a scene like Joff had made before. He just froze, eyes and mouth wide open, the useless wand still in his hand. Thoros tried to take advantage of the situation.

"Well, this could be used in your favour. Its shape is so unstable that it's almost as if the boggart had to confront a group of people. It will be weak! Say the charm!"

 It was no use. Sam stayed motionless and mute and the adult saved the day again. I'm going to vomit if I see Beric like that just once more!

 Sam finally moved, resigned. Gilly comforted him with reassuring sentences -"You were intelligent, you tricked it."

 Suddenly, Thoros felt very tired and thought that the lesson would rather be over but before he could tell his students, an actual volunteer gave a step forward.

 " You losers!  It's time for a grown man to teach you something," Theon said.

 His scornful words caused a murmur of indignation, but Theon didn't seem to worry. It was clear that he had got used to the fact that a lot of people at school considered him to be an arrogant jerk, just like Joffrey.

Thoros knew that the youngster had a lot of flaws. Nevertheless, from his point of view the comparison was not fair at all and it was just based on superficial similarities. For instance, it was certain that Theon used to boast about his being older but it was just a façade to hide his embarrassment. Unlike Joff or Ygritte, whose wildness had got her in and out school until she had finally settled down, Theon had been forbidden by his own family to study wizardry for many years. It was not until the Starks had finally got legal custody that he hadn't been freed from the Greyjoys' eccentricities and mistreatments. As a result, he was in a year he didn't really belong to and the fact tormented him, though he hid it deep inside. Very few people really knew the truth about his past.

He is not a spoilt brat. He was an abused one.

The lean young man whispered something about Robb to Jon. Whatever it was, it made the grey-eyed boy pull a longer face than his usual one. Theon just grinned.

He could have been an impressive wizard, for he has the powerful Harlaw's blood running through his veins. His mother was one of the best witches of her generation, long ago. His father deprived her of her magic. After that, she had been slowly falling into an insane condition.
 
He moved gracefully and smiled at Margaery while he was walking to oppose the non-being.

 The Greyjoys themselves have the gift in their blood, but they repudiated it. Those ironborn consider magic unmanly and a sign of weakness. To make things worse, one of his uncles had some sort of foolish revelation and those savages started thinking of magic as unholy, too. Once, Balon himself proclaimed that he would rather see a child of his dead than let them be a wizard or a witch. He nearly made those words come true, in Theon's case. I remember his brothers were as brutal as his father.

Margaery smiled back and, this time, the smile was a real one, edged with flirting.

On top of that, the only Greyjoy that defied that rule, Euron, embraced the Dark Arts to such an extent that made Mad Aerys pale by comparison. He called himself "Lord Crow's Eye" and became a notorious mass murderer, using the Unforgivable Curses. Lots of good people died before he could be stopped and sent to prison. The maddest of the mad and the most dangerous of them all. He was even able to escape the maximum security prison Azkaban Dreadfortress before being caught again and finally sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. 

Theon prepared his wand and stayed in front of the shape-shifter.

Some say that Balon forced the youngest of his sons to witness Euron's punishment. Some say it was just a lie because no child could endure to witness that without losing his mind. Some say it was the last straw that gave the Starks the victory at court for Theon's custody. Some say... 

R'hllor! No! NO!
 
"THEON! WITHDRAW!" Thoros shouted at the top of his lungs.

It was too late. The boggart changed and time slowed down.

The hideous image of a Dementor floated in the air. It was like the embodiment of the Grim Reaper itself.

The youngster looked feverish. An ominous silence lingered all around.

Thoros started running to stop the creature. All of a sudden, he froze in place.

The Dementor had pulled his hood back. Its abominable mouth was surrounded by meaty, wormy lips. Small, oddly pale eyes glowed with sadism.

Thoros had seen that face before. It belongs to Prison Warder Bolton's son.

He was going to kiss Theon.

Lord of Light!
 
Theon went out of his mind. He cast spell after spell, said charm after charm in a frenzy of anxiety. Chaos took control of the classroom.

The old wardrobe exploded. Bolts of lightning shone everywhere, striking the walls. Then panic took over. The students were screaming and several of them ran away and left the room.

The adult stared at the scene petrified, unable to do a thing. It seemed like something unreal, something that wasn't really happening.

Theon and the Bolton-Dementor-boggart were fighting in circles as if they were dancing a deadly waltz. The lean youth was shaking his wand desperately while gabbling incantations and incoherent pieces of speech. Amidst the pandemonium, Thoros could grasp some of them.

"Father, please, please! Don't!" "I won't be like him, promise, I won't!" "He will suck my soul out, he wants to erase everything I am, he wants me to be his forever!" "I won't let him, I'm not my uncle, I'm a man, I have to remember my name!"

"My name is THEON!" he yelled. "AVADA KED...!"

"EXPELLIARMUS !" Thoros cried out.

The wand was violently released from Theon's hand. Thoros finally pulled himself together and moved. The vision of Beric's corpse was like a blessing after everything he had witnessed minutes ago. He got to his student and held him tight for he was shaking helplessly.

"Listen to me, Theon. Listen to me, my boy! Focus on me! Never say those words again! That's the Killing Curse! You're not a murderer, my boy; you're not like your uncle! I don't give a damn about what your bloody family told you. You are not a murderer and you'll never be!"

Theon burst into tears of agony and shame. The students that remained were terrified and the room looked like a place where a bomb had just blown out. The teacher felt sick.

"Enough! Class is over!"

"Professor Thoros? Daenerys!" someone warned.

It was too late, again. The Targaryen girl had run towards the non-being with a vindictive expression on her beautiful face. She might have remembered her father's fate.

No! Not again!
 
Instead of a new Dementor, a tall, gaunt demon with eyes bluer than any human eye appeared. Thoros muttered a prayer and Daenerys looked surprised. However, the vision changed quickly into a nightmarish monster. A huge dragon made of ice.

Daenerys stood her ground.

"Dracarys!" she said.

As her body shifted into the shape of a red and black dragon and everybody learnt that there was another Animagus in town, she breathed fire and the fake ice dragon melted, together with everything that was behind it.

Epilogue

Headmistress Melisandre of Asshai's office was a warm place. Decorated in hot colours, there were always fires alight in the hearth, braziers and candelabra. Even Melisandre's pet, a little Phoenix, was a creature of light and fire. The head teacher felt at home there, for she herself resembled a flame in different shades of red -clothes, jewelry, hair and eyes.

Despite the warmth, the man who was waiting for her to speak had his skin covered in cold sweat. His expression was one of concern. From time to time, he glanced over a heap of parchments and envelopes that could be seen on the head teacher's desk. Melisandre felt sympathy for him -Thoros was an outstanding teacher, a nice colleague and a loyal supporter of R'hllor's creed. Anyway, she had a duty and she had to admonish him.

 "Darkness is the opposite of light, as coldness is the opposite of heat," she started. "Darkness can be inviting -it is a liar. Darkness is full of horrors -it is dangerous. We must help the new generations fight darkness.  For this reason, Defence Against the Dark Arts is of the outmost importance for their education. For this reason, I only choose R'hllor's most devout servants to teach that subject."

"Of course, my lady," Thoros agreed. His voice was full of guilt.

"Anyway, we must be cautious and show the dangers of darkness timely," Melisandre said. "You are getting bolder within every year, Thoros. I remember that I advised you not to teach practical lessons until the second term. You didn't listen to my suggestions and now there are consequences."

Thoros swallowed hard. The headmistress pointed out the pile of parchments.

"Complaints," she said. "Almost every important family of wizards and witches has sent a letter. Let me show you.

"Tywin Lannister insists that he won't allow us to mock at his family name and wants you to be dismissed. His daughter Cersei threatens to report us for risking her child's life. She says that she won't leave her first son in company of monsters, werewolves and murderers.

"Robert...Baratheon," she stopped for a second after pronouncing the last word. "Robert Baratheon, on the contrary, is perfectly happy with his son learning how to be a man. And Professor Tyrion is making jokes at his nephew's expense every time he can.

"Professor Benjen and Professor Edmure have called Eddard Stark and he is coming tomorrow to speak with his sons. He is very worried about the rest of the students learning about Robb's lycanthropy and about Theon's outburst.

"The Ministry has also complained. Targaryens and Martells ask why Daenerys has been allowed to attend the practical lesson. Although she is an extremely gifted witch for her age, she was supposed to attend the upper year lessons just as a listener. Besides, her Animagus condition was thought to remain a secret. A dragon is not an easy vision like a cat or a dog.

"The Tyrells are as angry as the rest. This is the first time I have seen Professor Willas enraged. He wants Theon expelled from Margaery's class.

"I have even received a letter from the Daynes asking about Beric Dondarrion, Thoros!" she finished. "Besides, we cannot forget the material damage and the fact that we were seeking for the missing boggart around the school building for hours. Thus, what do you have to say?"

"My apologies, Headmistress Melisandre, I am so ashamed," Thoros answered. "I never meant that to happen, but I have no excuses. It was a mistake -it is all my fault. I will resign from my post if it is necessary."
Melisandre grinned.

"Thoros, as long as I am the head teacher, neither an arrogant family nor the Ministry itself will tell me how to manage this school. The Lord of Light is the only authority I follow. I trust your skill and dedication and I will never compromise. Do not bother; they will not have a scapegoat. Nevertheless, you should be more careful from now on."

Thoros glowed and his expression changed to one of gratitude.

"However, I need to ask you some questions about what happened. Did Theon really try to use the Killing Curse?"

"Sadly, that is true. I am not sure if he really knows how to use it or if he has the power to do it, but he knows the charm. However, he was out of his mind. He is a good boy, he just has some sort of trauma."

"I did know about his past. Nonetheless, we have to be careful. I was among the ones that defeated Euron Greyjoy and I will not allow this boy to follow the same path. I want you to protect him from the temptation of the Dark Arts."

"I do, I will, I swear it on Beric's memory."

Melisandre held the teacher's hand for a moment.

"You should forgive yourself, Thoros. It was not your fault. You did your best to help him live after what that butchers did to him, and Beric decided to finish his misery with dignity. You shouldn't be ashamed for the gift that R'hllor has given to you. Anyway, I think it is time to tell the Daynes the truth."

Tears dropped from the teacher's eyes. Poor Thoros, his wounds haven't healed yet. Melisandre gave him a moment to regain his poise before she continued speaking.

"Apart from it, I have a bad feeling about the fact that Bolton's son's face appeared like the Dementor's. I'm writing a letter to the Ministry in order to start an investigation about what is happening in Azkaban. I never trusted those Boltons. They belong to the night. Their eyes reminded me of the Great Other's."

Thoros shivered at hearing the name, but the woman kept calm. I am the only one in the wizardry world brave enough to say our enemy's true name. The Lord of Light gives me the courage and the strength that others lack.

"Headmistress, Daenerys Targaryen saw R'hllor's enemy in the boggart and it took the shape of a dragon of ice immediately after. That was the moment she changed into a dragon herself."

"Red and black," Melisandre muttered. "Fire and shadows, fire's daughters. And she made the boggart surrender and fly away, without the Riddikulus charm."

She looked pensive. Then, she turned to the man.

"Thoros, you can go now. Do not worry about that lesson anymore. There are revelations in the strangest places."

 He thanked the head teacher and left the office. When Melisandre was on her own, she stood up and walk towards the fireplace. She looked into it and a smile of hope and wisdom appeared on her face.

It has been worthwhile to have pushed those students a little further. The flames never lie -there are some special ones among them. And that one who is not only special, but the One we have been waiting for. 

A glimpse of sadness glared on her eyes. She remembered another person she had thought to be that One, time ago. Stannis Baratheon. It was a mistake, my mistake and I hurt him. Where did you go, Stannis? Where are you now? Are you safe and sound? I cannot see you in the fires anymore.

However, that was no time for remorse. That was time for joy because she had finally found the answer. As she stared at the silver-haired girl whose image was dancing in the flames, Melisandre said two single words: Azor Ahai.

 The end.

  

Notes: I wanted to show the boggart scene from the Harry Potter saga with some characters of A Song of Ice and Fire (ASoIaF) and in a different way. School subjects and some creatures of HP's world have been kept, while other elements have been changed.

jueves, 22 de agosto de 2013

LA NOCHE ANTES





La Noche Antes
 
Cada noche mis gusanos
reclaman su nueva cena
y bailan enloquecidos
hasta el frío amanecer.

Al desangrarse la luna
y apagarse las estrellas
y explotar el sol voraz
en incendios de colores,

los gusanos gritan «¡Guerra!».
Ejército blanco manchado
se arrastra por las trincheras
enlodadas de mi tierra.

Mortajas de lino sucio
me regalarán mis tenias
a cambio de tumbas llenas
y de la sangre más fresca.

Entre cánticos marciales
y chillidos de mis tenias,
mi alma susurra «¡Vete!
Escapa mientras aún puedas».

Autora: Vanessa Navarro Reverte 

Poema publicado por primera vez en la Revista Prosofagia 17

jueves, 15 de agosto de 2013

PUBLICACIONES TRIBALES (O NOVEDADES DE LA TRIBU 11)

Imagen propiedad de La Tribu11

En primer lugar, quiero disculparme por el tiempo transcurrido desde la última entrada, pero tiene una justificación: vacaciones. Seguro que lo entendéis.

A pesar del necesario descanso, este tiempo de asueto también ha sido productivo y verá sus frutos en las novedades que os comentaré en próximas entradas, pues hay unas cuantas (y jugosas).

Sin embargo, este post  no está dedicado a mis novedades, sino a las de algunos de mis compañeros tribales, escritores pertenecientes al colectivo literario La Tribu 11. Para redactarlo me he basado en la estupenda entrada que realizó Natalia Rubio en su blog  Palabras, ladrillos, muros y otras historias .

Vamos allá.

1.Daniel A. Franco ( D ).


Daniel es un autor preciso y minucioso, con un bagaje cultural y léxico envidiables, características derivadas quizás de su actividad profesional como traductor. Pionero en las lides digitales, publicó hace tiempo sus relatos Alameda Central y El Desperdicio- The Wasting en Amazon.com.

Su obra más reciente, Mister N, es una original historia sobre un San Nicolás (o Santa Claus) con problemas de memoria y ayudantes inesperados. Escrita inicialmente para sus hijos, según palabras del autor, puede ser disfrutado por igual por niños y mayores. Se ha publicado, además, en 2 versiones: en castellano y en inglés. La portada es obra de otra escritora de La Tribu 11, pepsi.

Disponible en la tienda Kindle, en Amazon.com .

2. Edgardo Benítez.



Este escritor salvadoreño nos trae su primera antología de relatos, Cuentos bajo el fuego, una colección de pequeñas piezas de artesanía que nos llevan de la intriga a la reflexión, del escalofrío a la contemplación. 21 historias que no te dejarán indiferente, con la edición y maquetación de La Tribu 11.

Disponible en tapa blanda en Amazon.com .

Los beneficios íntegros serán donados a la Fundación Ademo.



  
3. Manuel Navarro Seva (Boris Rudeiko).



Autor de gran talento y oficio, en particular para el género del relato breve, como ya demostró en las antologías Cosas que nunca confesé a nadie y Sobre la sangre derramada.

Recientemente ha publicado otro libro de relatos, Otras cosas que no te conté. Además, nos ha sorprendido con un cambio de registro gracias a  la autobiografía novelada Nevsky Prospect, que condensa sus experiencias y reflexiones en San Petersburgo.

Disponibles en la tienda Kindle, en Amazon.es (Otras cosas...)
Enhorabuena a todos.

miércoles, 24 de julio de 2013

SOBRE EL IX CUADERNO DE PROFESORES POETAS

Hace unas semanas os hablé sobre el IX Cuaderno de Profesores Poetas, en el que participo con un poema y del que normalmente se hace una edición digital además de la de papel. 

Recibí mi ejemplar del libro días atrás y ya sé que el poema escogido ha sido NÚCLEO .
Sin embargo, no os he informado antes porque seguía a la espera de que apareciera el cuaderno en digital para poder facilitaros el enlace y así acceder a su contenido completo. Desafortunadamente, los problemas en la web de referencia persisten, pues han tenido que mudarla a la que proporciona la Consejería de Educación de su Comunidad y no hay enlace válido para el Cuaderno. Como estamos ya en pleno verano, no creo que lo arreglen hasta septiembre.

Aun así, he de deciros que tuve una gran alegría que quiero transmitiros. Comparto letras y páginas en este libro, además de con otros muchos, con 2 estupendas escritoras a las que aprecio como amigas y admiro:  Alba (Luz Leira) y Noelia Illán. Por lo tanto, os recomiendo sus bitácoras para que podáis disfrutar de su buen hacer. Así saciaréis vuestras ansias de literatura.

Blog de Alba: Supón que es una calandria

Blog de Noelia: Las cosas más triviales


lunes, 8 de julio de 2013

"NOS REGALAMOS CUENTOS", DE LA TRIBU 11


  Los que me conocéis un poco sabéis que tengo debilidad (de la buena, de la que es sinónimo de cariño y admiración) por el colectivo literario La Tribu 11. Por si alguien aún no lo sabe, este nombre y su pizpireta mascota esconden a una serie de talentosos escritores, responsables de la revista Prosofagia y autores de las antologías de relatos Necroslogía y Del Miedo y Otras Islas (que leeré en breve para poder ofreceros una reseña).

  La noticia más reciente es que han lanzado un nuevo recopilatorio de cuentos y lo ofrecen de forma gratuita. Además de los relatos, la edición está tan cuidada como siempre y eso significa que también hay imágenes y otras sorpresas. 

 Podéis disfrutarla de 2 maneras: descargando el PDF AQUÍ o leerla directamente online, opción que incluyo a continuación.

  Desde aquí, gracias a todos los miembros de La Tribu 11, por ser como sois. A los demás, os invito a conocerlos y espero que paséis un buen rato con su lectura. 


domingo, 30 de junio de 2013

VANESSA NAVARRO REVERTE EN EL IX CUADERNO DE PROFESORES POETAS


 Un año más he tenido la suerte y el honor de participar con un poema en el Cuaderno de Profesores Poetas que convoca el IES Francisco Giner de los Ríos de Segovia. Esta publicación ha alcanzado ya su noveno número y un merecido reconocimiento. 

 Como en otras ocasiones, el libro ha sido publicado en primer lugar en papel. Esta vez, sin embargo, la versión digital se está retrasando debido a problemas técnicos en la web del centro, así que todavía no puedo ofreceros el enlace. Os mantendré informados y lo subiré en una entrada tan pronto como esté disponible.

 El poema seleccionado es aún una incógnita incluso para mí, pues he de esperar unos días para que me llegue el ejemplar en papel a mi casa.

  No obstante, el elegido se encuentra entre estos 2: NÚCLEO y PÓQUER

miércoles, 19 de junio de 2013

NO HAY TRATO


  
No hay trato

 
   Nazco. Lloro, me alimento, duermo. Colores, gateo, palabras, dientes. Ratoncito Pérez. Juego, juego, juego. Barriga de mamá. Hermanito. ¿Y yo, qué? Es lindo. Lo quiero. El cole, el recreo, amigos. ¡Manzana! ¡Gusano! Asco. Vómito. Ballet. Acampadas. ¡Orugas! ¡Urticaria! Estudio, estudio, estudio. Primer novio. Primer beso. Primera ruptura. Estudio, estudio. Segundo novio. Este mejor. Primera vez. Universidad. Estudio, fiesta, estudio, beca, fiesta, prácticas. Trabajo. Matrimonio. Comida de aniversario, boletus a la trufa. ¡Gusano! ¡Asco! Embarazada. Me despiden. Juzgado. Doy a luz. Mariana. Gano el juicio. Monto un negocio. Trabajo, crío, trabajo, soy feliz, sufro, veo morir, divorcio. Jesús. Mi compañero. Envejezco, arrugas, jubilación, jardinería. Malditas plagas. Enfermo. En sus brazos. Muero.

  Me incineran.

  Que os jodan, gusanos.

Autora: Vanessa Navarro Reverte.

miércoles, 5 de junio de 2013

EL TACTO DE "PROSOFAGIA"


En una entrada anterior os informé de que la revista literaria Prosofagia celebraba su 4º aniversario con un número especial en el que, además de una interesante selección de textos en prosa y poesía inéditos, nos ofrecía una recopilación de sus mejores artículos y entrevistas. Si queréis recordarlo o leer la versión digital de la revista, podéis pinchar AQUÍ.

Pero no acaban ahí las buenas noticias. Además de su formato digital, este número ha tenido una edición impresa que recibí hace unos días en mi casa. No os engaño si os digo que me emocioné al sentir su tacto.

Escribo esta entrada para agradecer a todos los componentes del equipo de La Tribu 11, responsables de Prosofagia, en particular a mi querida Esther y a Zoquete, pero sin olvidar a los demás, a pepsi, Boris Rudeiko, Natts, Elisabet... Por supuesto, también agradezco esa preciada sorpresa que ha sido el libro "Del Miedo y Otras Islas", también en papel. Estoy deseando terminar mis exámenes para poder disfrutarlo.

Gracias y larga vida y buenas letras a La Tribu 11.

sábado, 4 de mayo de 2013

GRIS

Gris


Los argumentos utilizados por la Defensa y por la Acusación habían alcanzado un punto muerto que ninguno de los bandos parecía capaz de superar: los abogados destacaban una virtud de su defendido, los fiscales sacaban a relucir una mácula oculta y la agria discusión volvía a comenzar.

El Juez, impaciente, ojeó la lista de casos pendientes para aquel día y arqueó una ceja con disgusto; el trabajo debía cumplirse en la fecha prevista y el presente juicio ya les había robado un tiempo precioso.

—Es suficiente  —dijo—. No se admiten más alegaciones, voy a proceder a dictar sentencia.

Los abogados obedecieron humildes y respetuosos, mientras que en los ojos de los fiscales brillaron miradas oscuras y desafiantes. El Juez, ignorando la provocación, observó al acusado  y comprobó que la primera impresión que había tenido sobre él era cierta. Gris. Un gris perfecto, puro, con igual cantidad de luz que de tinieblas, con la misma ausencia que reflejo de color.

—El acusado deberá cumplir reencarnación.

Un agujero se abrió y el alma fue devuelta a la Tierra, donde esperaría hasta que en su próxima muerte pudiera decidirse si merecía ir al Cielo o al Infierno.


Autora: Vanessa Navarro Reverte.

martes, 23 de abril de 2013

SORTING IT OUT




SORTING IT OUT

First thing in the morning, hundreds of pigeons appeared. Carefully, they covered the buildings in dirt.

A proposal was made -a bunch of seagulls should be imported, provided they had been of use in hunting the other birds down. Everyone agreed.

Soon after, people realized it had not been the fairest idea at all, as far as the pigeons and the seagulls got on well with each other and gladly stained the sky under their wings. 

Thus, somebody reminded of two experts in falconry and asked them for their dozens of falcons. Falcons that remembered neither their owners nor their actual mission and devoted themselves to attack human beings instead of their former targets.

Finally, the wisest men in the council spent all the money left on paying a scientist who had been successful in cloning pterodactyls.

Nowadays, those in town without wings are walking dead.

By Vanessa Navarro Reverte.

viernes, 12 de abril de 2013

"PROSOFAGIA" PUBLICA UN POEMA DE VANESSA NAVARRO REVERTE





El nuevo número de la prestigiosa revista literaria Prosofagia ya está aquí y en él aparece uno de mis poemas.

En este caso, se trata del poema hasta ahora inédito La Noche Antes.

Para los neófitos en el tema, recordamos que Prosofagia, niña de los ojos del colectivo literario La Tribu 11, es una revista de Literatura con mayúsculas; pocas publicaciones pueden jactarse de contar con un equipo de redacción tan talentoso y de mostrar secciones de tal interés . Y, lo más importante, hacerlo con calidad.

Este número, el 17, es un número especial, pues celebra los 4 años de vida de la publicación.
Encontraréis nuevos cuentos y poemas escritos para la ocasión. Además, se ha hecho una selección de los mejores artículos sobre el buen uso del idioma castellano que se han publicado en ella durante estos 4 años. Incluye una entrevista a la escritora Laura Gallego realizada por Montse de Paz, fotografías, secciones sobre el mundo digital, humor gráfico, reseñas y muchas otras sorpresas que estoy segura de que os encantarán.

Además, podéis leer la revista online a través de ISSUU o de CALAMEO, o descargarla en PDF de forma gratuita. Los románticos que deseen tener un ejemplar en papel, también tendrán su oportunidad.

Desde aquí deseo expresar mi agradecimiento al equipo de la revista, en particular a mis queridos Esther, Zoquete y pepsi.

Además, me siento feliz por participar junto a personas como Daniel A. Franco, Natalia Rubio (Natts) o Manuel Navarro (Boris Rudeiko), a los que estimo y admiro tanto en lo personal como en lo literario.


Toda la información y la opción de descarga LA TIENES AQUÍ

viernes, 5 de abril de 2013

NUEVOS PREMIOS DE LA BLOGOSFERA CONCEDIDOS A "VAINILLA Y ANGORA"


El blog está de enhorabuena, pues ha obtenido otros dos premios de la blogosfera, amablemente concedidos por Isaboa Del Sol y Vero G.N. Además de agradecerles el gesto y hacerme mucha ilusión, me permite recomendaros una serie de blogs que creo que os pueden gustar mucho.

  1. El primero es la distinción "Best Blog", concedido por Vero G.N , a la que podéis conocer en su blog de literatura, reflexiones y fotografía CRISTAL DE BOHEMIA. Estos días me lo ha concedido también Pável A.C. ( SÍNDROME IMPERFECTO ) ¡Gracias!
En esta ocasión, mis puntos los voy a repartir entre dos blogs:

  • Once Upon A Time , de Creación Alianza. Se lleva la mitad de los puntos porque es un blog joven que está pisando fuerte y que nos ofrece creación artística en varios idiomas.
  • Voces Robadas  de Álvaro. Merece la otra mitad de los puntos por ser uno de los lugares de mayor sensibilidad y exquisitez de la blogosfera y para animarlo a que regrese a mimarlo como antes.

       2.  El segundo premio es el de "Incentivo a la Lectura", concedido por Isaboa del Sol desde su completo blog de creación literaria CARTAS ROTAS .

Mis blogs premiados y recomendados para este galardón son los siguientes:

  • Por estar contigo . Poesía, reflexiones, noticias, reseñas y devoción hacia la Literatura.
  • Supón que es una Calandria . Poesía, microrrelatos y artículos sobre literatura.
  • Poesía del Siglo XXI . Interesante directorio de bitácoras de poesía.

  • Con el alma prendida a los libros . Reseñas, noticias y concursos.
  • Necesidad y Azar . Creación propia, articulos y reseñas.
  • Palabras, ladrillos, muros y otras historias . Artículos, reflexiones propias, fotografía, técnica literaria.
  • Al rico libro . Recomendaciones, reseñas y entrevistas.
  • Sobre literatura fantástica . Para amantes de la literatura fantástica, de terror, de ciencia ficción...Reseñas, artículos, recomendaciones, concursos, ilustradores invitados.
  • Momentos de silencio compartido . Entrevistas, reseñas, retos, recomendaciones, colaboraciones...
  •  
  • Kindie Indie . Especializado en los mejores escritores independientes.

Este es el tope de puntos, pero mi lista no es exhaustiva. Si sentís más curiosidad, podéis echar un vistazo a mi Blogroll.

La pregunta que había que contestar para este emblema es la siguiente:

¿Qué libro aconsejarías para una persona que comienza a escribir?
 Mi opinión es que la persona que comienza a escribir no lo hace porque sí; surge de un impulso interior, irresistible, sea o no consciente de que existe. Y ese impulso se ha nutrido de una necesidad anterior, la de leer. Así que los consejos, en este sentido, no son necesarios.


Los premiados, si lo desean, pueden contestar también a esa pregunta, recomendar para el premio hasta un máximo de 10 blogs (y avisarlos, claro) y poner la imagen del distintivo en su bitácora. Solo si lo desean, por supuesto. Sin cadenas, solo corazón. A mí me ha encantado recibirlos para poder recomendar a otros blogueros.

martes, 26 de marzo de 2013

"EL TIEMPO DE LA LUNA": NOVEDADES


Muchos, a través de este blog, de Wattpad o de la web Fantasía Austral, conocéis el relato El Tiempo de la Luna, que publiqué hace unos meses. Las críticas positivas y las constructivas me ayudaron a mejorarlo y a tomar una importante decisión: el Úlfhéðinn merecía una historia completa.

Por ello, tengo que anunciaros una buena noticia: ya no será un relato aislado, es el primer capítulo de una novela corta.

Estad atentos, porque pronto habrá noticias y sorpresas

La novedad actual es que acabo de subir el capítulo 3 El Despertar.

El episodio 4º saldrá en abril. Se llamará Aidan y presentará a uno de los personajes más importantes de la novela.

                                                           

  Podéis leer los capítulos,gratisAQUÍ, EN WATTPAD



¿Os gusta la idea? Espero vuestras opiniones y críticas.