Reflection: Ricardo Alberto- and the chronicle of his abortion- (Genero Novela)
Written by Florencio de los Santos
The boy Ricardo Alberto was trying to complete a wide mission: like a microscopic patrol, he sailed in the immense universe of his mother’s womb. He moved silently, carrying a furtive inheritance of physical features from his ancestors. Thus he settled in the narrowest but most comfortable room, where men begin their aspirations and struggles, after being crowned champion of the marathon race towards the fertile egg.
He cleverly supplied himself with the periodic flower that grows green every month in the orchard of the fertile and healthy uterus. In the idyllic place where he was, he did not have to wear uncomfortable clothes, since the temperature was always perfect. Their balanced vitamin foods came to them without having to make strange faces to eat them, nor would they make an effort to breathe, since those errands came to them automatically.
In that small room similar to a tiny sky on earth, Ricardo Alberto did not hear unpleasant phrases that altered his emotional stability. Nor did he see horrible things that caused dire consequences or depression. Everything was so perfect. Its growth increased as the days and weeks passed. Abroad his mother and very few people knew of his anonymous existence, although he managed to complete several months of life, ignoring that there were strong conspiracies against him out there; he felt like a creature of love.
Tied to that unknown and powerful force called destiny, the life of Ricardo Alberto was also planned, traced and confirmed, who at the early age of 7 would be a prodigious child, due to the perfect mastery with which he would play the piano, and guaranteed him in his adulthood being considered the musician of the century. At the age of 18, various national and international universities would honor him with “Honoris Causa” doctorates.
In addition, he would win a Nobel Peace Prize in recognition of his many pacifist ideas given in his speeches and concerts, at the young age of 23. With their achievements and notoriety, their ancestors would emerge from the misery and misfortune in which they have been immersed from generation to generation, and they would amass fortunes of dignity and abundant economic wealth. His successes would continue in progressive ascent until the day of his death at 93 years of age.
But … a set of adverse circumstances went through in the projection of this noble and talented career. Yesterday, at 6:33 PM, the sum of what they called “many reasons” produced as a final result a semi-clandestine consultation between a woman who claims to be a mother, and a self-titled doctor, in a slaughterhouse called a clinical office.
Ricardo Alberto, still full of love, hopes and wishes to live, defended himself with admirable bravery as a man in his narrow bedroom, against the strange instruments that invaded her. But again crime triumphed, and without anyone listening to his silent desperate screams, he died before being born. And so the world was without knowing this and millions of other stories.
That awful! Another abortion.
Reg. February 1996.