Historia Judía no tradicional
por Enrique J. Dunayevich
Florie was in a hurry. If she hadn’t missed the buss, she wouldn’t have taken that long walk through the wood. And it was dark, too dark. If only the moon had gone up. But as a matter of fact, it was there, but it was so cloudy that it was as if it hadn’t appeared. And the rain was still falling down. She took a path, a stony path, but after few minutes she lost her way. She began to shout. If only someone could heard her. She heard as if someone was be whispering. She realised it was the wind blowing. She was afraid; really terribly afraid. She fell down several times. She was bleeding. She noticed two bend tree.-he went under them thinking they would make like a hut. She was tired, she was soaked with rain and with blood. She thought hearing some barks; she didn’t care; she thought she would die because of the blood. She fell asleep.
She was half slept half awake, when she felt something wet and warm on her cheek. “I’m dead.-It is the blood of my injuries which cover my face”, she thought. She opened her eyes. It was “RONCO” her dog who was liking her face. It had found her Ronco always faithful.
Buenos Aires 29 de Setiembre de 1997