CONFESSIONS IN JUNE - TG STORY

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Escrita por: “Irene Naridza”

IMÁGENES IA HECHAS POR HOTPOT: https://hotpot.ai/art-generator

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----- Confessions in June -----

-- Written by “Irene Naridza”

“I can’t believe it. They’re doing construction on the street again without notice.” said Rebeca as she parked the car three blocks from her house. The sound of heavy machinery was extremely loud. She had to cover her ears with her hands, even while walking down the opposite side of the street.

It was a residential area built just a few years ago. The blocks weren’t wide, as the houses were small and the gardens tiny. And the condition of the streets? Not worth mentioning.

“It looks like they used modeling clay instead of asphalt.” Rebeca muttered, glancing at the state of the road’s large old potholes everywhere. She, her husband, and a few neighbors had gathered signatures to send a maintenance request to the city hall five years ago.

“I hope they don’t stay late again today, or I’ll get another headache.” They had already worked into the night a few days ago. Complaints were made about the poor management of the repairs. “Be thankful we’re even doing maintenance.” was the city hall’s only reply.

Once home, Rebeca changed her shoes, swapping her heels for a pair of flats she kept in a basket by the entrance. She usually kept several pairs there for options, but this time, only her black shoes were present. She found it odd but didn’t think much of it.

“Esteban, I’m home.” she called, placing her purse on the coat rack and heading down the hallway. “The clumsy workers accidentally cut a power cable in the building. They’ll fix it tomorrow, but today the boss let us go home early.” she said, expecting her husband to hear her.

They both worked at a car dealership. Rebeca was the manager’s secretary, and Esteban worked in customer service. Since the office was being remodeled and expanded, he now worked remotely. But she still had to be there in person.

Rebeca found the silence unusual. She checked her watch and confirmed that Esteban should’ve finished work by now. Suddenly, she heard a noise coming from the bedroom. As if someone were quickly moving things around.

“Esteban, are you here?” she asked as she entered the room. There he was, inside the closet, his head poking out between the hangers. He looked visibly nervous at the sight of her. “What are you doing in there, honey?” she asked, clearly confused by the situation.

“Um… I…” he struggled to find words. “Were you trying to scare me? That would be cute if I hadn’t just gotten off work.” Rebeca said. “I don’t want to cook today. Let’s order pizza or something.” she added, heading toward the kitchen.

She stopped at the doorway when she noticed Esteban wasn’t following her. “Why are you still there? Come on.” she said. He kept his nervous gaze fixed on her from the closet. “Is something wrong?” she asked, worried.

Esteban exhaled with resignation and stepped out of the closet. He stood in front of his wife. Wearing her favorite black dress, her diamond-patterned black tights, and her red high heels.

                                          

Rebeca was speechless. She glanced at the floor and saw a pile of clothes and shoes sticking out from under the bed. She looked again at the closet where her husband had been hiding and spotted a box she had never noticed before. From it, what looked like a wig was sticking out.

“Take off my clothes.” she finally said. “Wait, sweety, let me ex… let me explain…” Esteban stammered as he stepped closer to her. “TAKE OFF MY CLOTHES. NOW.” she snapped. He lowered his gaze and nodded. He removed the heels and tried to reach for the zipper on the dress, but nervously missed it. Rebeca stepped in and unzipped it for him carefully.

“Thank you.” he said quietly. When the dress fell to the floor, she saw he was also wearing her lingerie, with socks stuffed into the cups of the bra. “You’re even wearing my favorite lingerie.” Rebeca exclaimed. “I’m sorry.” Esteban murmured. “You better be. It’s not easy to find nice stuff like this.” she said again.

“Why did you do it?” she asked. Esteban’s heart pounded. He felt cornered, and the only way out was to talk. “Sweetheart… I don’t know. I don’t know why I like it, but I always have. I’ve always felt this attraction to women’s clothing.” he said as he sat on the bed, clutching the soft bedsheet in his hands, falling silent.

Rebeca sighed. “Five years dating, six married, and you never told me.” She murmured. “Do you really not trust me?” There was clear disappointment in her voice. “I’m sorry… I was afraid.” Esteban said almost in a whisper.

Rebeca approached him and gently caressed his face. “I’m your wife. You don’t have to be afraid to be yourself with me.” she said in a soft tone. “Really?” A spark lit up in Esteban’s eyes. “Of course.” Rebeca said firmly.

“If you like wearing women’s clothes, I’m not going to stop you.” Those were words Esteban never thought he’d hear. And yet, they came from the lips of his beloved. “However, I will stop you from wearing mine. They’re not your size and THE’RE MINE.” She glanced at one of her skirts. The waistband was overly stretched. “Didn't you know there’s a reason why women don't like to share our clothes?”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll buy you a new one. Don’t worry.” Esteban apologized. “How about this time I buy you some clothes?” Her words made Esteban smile like never before. A smile of true happiness.

Without hesitation, he stood up, still wearing the lingerie, and wrapped his arms around his wife to give her the sincerest kiss of love he could offer.

To Be Continued…

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Link English Story in Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1552694406-confessions-in-june

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Link Spanish Caption in Blogger: https://irenenaridzastorycaptions.blogspot.com/2025/06/confesiones-en-junio-historia-tg.html

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------------------------------ THANK YOU SO MUCH for WATCHING ------------------------------

CONFESIONES EN JUNIO - HISTORIA TG

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Escrita por: “Irene Naridza”

IMÁGENES IA HECHAS POR HOTPOT: https://hotpot.ai/art-generator

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----- Confesiones en Junio -----

-- Escrito por “Irene Naridza”

“No puede ser. Otra vez están haciendo obras en la calle sin avisar.” Dijo Rebeca mientras estacionaba el auto a tres cuadras de su casa. El ruido de la maquinaria pesada era bastante estridente. Rebeca tuvo que cubrir sus oídos con sus manos incluso al pasar por el otro lado de la cuadra.

Era una zona residencial creada hace un par de años. Las manzanas no eran anchas, pues las casas no eran muy grandes y los jardines diminutos. Ni hablar del estado de las calles.

“Parece que hubieran usado plastilina en vez de brea.” Dijo Rebeca mientras daba un vistazo al estado actual de las calles. Baches bastante grandes, por doquier y bastante antiguos. Ella, su esposo y un par de vecinos más habían reunido firmas para enviar una solicitud a la alcaldía para darle mantenimiento al lugar hace 5 años.

“Espero que hoy no se queden hasta más tarde o me dará dolor de cabeza de nuevo.” Ya se habían quedado hace un par de días hasta la noche. Hubo quejas señalando la mala gestión que estaba teniendo la reparación. “Agradezcan que estamos dando mantenimiento” fue la única respuesta de la alcaldía.

Cuando por fin estuvo en casa, se puso otros zapatos. Cambiando sus tacones por unos zapatos bajos que siempre dejaba en una cesta en la entrada. Usualmente dejaba otros pares de zapatos, así tener distintas opciones para usar, pero esta vez, solo sus zapatos negros estaban allí. Le pareció raro, pero no le dio más importancia.

“Esteban, ya estoy en casa.” Dijo al dejar su bolso en un perchero y adentrarse por el pasillo. “Los torpes obreros cortaron por error un cable de electricidad del edificio. Lo arreglaran para mañana, pero hoy el jefe nos dejó a todos salir temprano.” Dijo, esperando que su esposo la escuchase.

Ambos trabajaban en una agencia de venta de vehículos. Rebeca era secretaria del gerente y Esteban trabajaba en la zona de atención al cliente. Como estaban remodelando y expandiendo las oficinas, ahora él trabajaba a distancia. Pero ella sí tenía que ir presencialmente.

A Rebeca se le hizo extraño ese silencio. Revisó su reloj y comprobó que para esa hora Esteban ya había terminado su jornada laboral. Un repentino ruido que venía desde su dormitorio le llamó la atención. Era como si estuviesen moviendo cosas rápidamente.

“Esteban ¿estás aquí?” dijo al entrar a la habitación. Allí estaba él, metido en el armario, pero con la cabeza sobresaliendo entre los percheros con ropa. Este se puso bastante nervioso al verla. “¿Qué haces allí amor? Dijo bastante extrañada por la situación.

“Este…yo…” intentó formular alguna palabra. “¿Querías asustarme? Eso sería tierno, si no llegara de trabajar.” Dijo Rebeca. “No quiero cocinar hoy, pidamos pizza o algo.” dijo mientras se dirigía a la cocina.

Se detuvo justo en la puerta al ver que Esteban no la seguía. “¿Por qué sigues allí? ven.” Le dijo a su esposo. Él mantenía su mirada nerviosa desde el armario. “¿Pasa algo malo?” preguntó preocupada. Esteban respiró con resignación y salió del armario.

Esteban se quedó de pie frente a su esposa. Él estaba usando su vestido negro favorito, sus mallas negras de patrones de diamantes, sus tacones altos rojos.

Rebeca se quedó sin habla. Apartó la mirada un segundo al suelo, notando la ropa y zapatos en un montón que sobresalía de debajo de la cama. Le dio otro vistazo al armario donde antes se ocultaba su esposo. Allí vio una caja que nunca antes había notado, de ella sobresalía lo que parecía ser una peluca.

“QUITATE MI ROPA.” dijo ella finalmente. “Espera amor, dé… déjame ex… déjame explicarte…” dijo Esteban mientras se acercaba a su esposa. “QUITATE MI ROPA AHORA” replicó de forma cortante. Él bajó la mirada y asintió.

Se quitó los tacones e intentó llevar su mano hacia el cierre del vestido, pero después de fallar nerviosamente en alcanzarlo. Rebeca se acercó y lo bajó con cuidado. “Gracias.” Dijo él en voz baja.

Cuando el vestido cayó al suelo, ella vio que él también estaba usando su ropa interior, con calcetines rellenando las copas del sujetador. “Encima estás usando mi lencería favorita.” Exclamó Rebeca. “Lo siento.” murmuró Esteban. “Eso espero. No es fácil conseguir ropa linda.” Exclamó de nuevo.

“¿Por qué lo hiciste?” indagó ella. Esteban sentía su corazón latir con mucha fuerza, pero también se sentía acorralado. La única forma de salir de ello, era hablando. “Cariño. No lo sé. No sé cómo es que me gusta, pero desde siempre. Desde siempre he sentido esta atracción por la ropa de chica.” Dijo mientras se sentaba en la cama, apretando sus dedos en la suave sábana, quedándose finalmente en silencio.

Rebeca suspiró. “5 años de novios, 6 de matrimonio y nunca me lo dijiste.” Murmuró ella. “¿En serio no confías en mí?” había cierta decepción en su voz. “Lo siento…tuve miedo.” Dijo Esteban casi en un susurro.

Rebeca se acercó y acarició su rostro. “Soy tu esposa. No tienes que tener miedo de ser tú mismo junto a mí.” Dijo en un tono suave. “¿De verdad?” una chispa se encendió en los ojos de Esteban. “Por su puesto.” Dijo Rebeca con firmeza.

“Si te gusta usar ropa de chica. No voy a impedírtelo.” Fueron palabras que Esteban nunca pensó escuchar, pero, sin embargo. Estaban saliendo de los labios de su amada. “Sin embargo, si impediré que uses la mía. No es de tu talla.” Miró una de sus faldas, tenía el elástico muy estirado. “¿No sabias que hay una buena razón por la que a las mujeres no nos gusta compartir nuestra ropa?”

“Oh, perdón. Te compraré una nueva. Descuida.” Se disculpó Esteban. “¿Qué dices si esta vez yo te compro ropa a ti?” esas palabras hicieron que Esteban esbozara una sonrisa única. Una de felicidad como nunca antes había sentido.

Sin más espera, se puso de pie, aún con la lencería puesta y rodeó a su esposa con sus brazos para darle el beso de amor más sincero que podía ofrecer.

Continuará algún día…

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Link a Caption en inglés en Deviant Art: https://www.deviantart.com/nair-tg-stories/art/1209737432

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Link a Historia en inglés en Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1552694406-confessions-in-june

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HaRVeen (English) - TG STORY

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Written by: “Irene Naridza”

IA PIC MADE BY HOTPOT: https://hotpot.ai/art-generator

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----- HaRVeen -----

-- Written by “Irene Naridza”

It was a sunny day in the city. Birds chirped among the trees in the park, where dozens of people strolled. Some alone, others in pairs. Some chatted, while a few played in the recreational areas scattered throughout the place.

Among those enjoying a casual walk was Madeline. She was a university student who loved to spend her free time walking through the city’s parks. These were quite large, filled with trees, flowered bushes, and countless spots to sit and relax.

That day, she went out to show off her new dress. It was sweater-like in style but with a tube skirt that reached her thighs. Although it was sunny, it wasn’t hot, the weather was cool, so the white tights covering her legs felt very comfortable. She wore low crimson shoes, matching the color of her dress.

Her matching purse hung from her shoulder. Her loose black hair swayed with the afternoon breeze. Madeline sat at one of the park’s tables, shaded by a large umbrella.

She ordered her favorite ice cream flavor: mint chocolate chip. Her red nails stood out as she paid with a few bills. Madeline smiled at the cookie bowl filled with three scoops of creamy ice cream. She dipped her spoon into the dessert and brought it to her mouth. 

A faint trace of her red lipstick was left on the spoon before she tasted it.

She closed her eyes as the sweet flavor of chocolate mixed with the intense freshness of mint, an amazing combination for her palate. 

She crossed her legs before taking another bite; the soft cotton rubbing together felt lovely. She glanced around the park. People laughing, enjoying the day. She felt like she was in the best moment of her life.

Everything went black. The laughter faded. The warmth of the sun was replaced by a dry chill. The taste of the ice cream disappeared from her tongue. All she could see was darkness. All she could hear was the beating of her heart.

“Chuta (Damn)” muttered Armando. The batteries in the reality headset had died. “Oh, que mala suerte, justo cuando se estaba poniendo increíble.  (Oh, come on... just when it was getting incredible)” he said in frustration. “Como sea, compraré nuevas baterías al volver del trabajo mañana. (Whatever, I’ll buy new batteries after work tomorrow.)” He placed the headset back into its box and stored it safely in his wardrobe.

He stretched a little as he walked to his kitchen, which wasn’t far. In his compact apartment, nothing was. He opened the cupboard and took out one of his instant noodle packets. He had to ration them; one every two days. He cooked it with water he had collected from the river and boiled to purify. He sat down to eat, lit only by the streetlamp outside.

Armando was an Ecuadorian immigrant. His country had sunk into misery because the people — or at least 56% of them — kept voting for the right, choosing to suffer rather than allowing the left to return to power. An inexplicable phenomenon that defied all logic.

In Maglavir, he couldn’t find a better job than working as a laborer in a ceramics factory. He spent long hours lifting heavy objects or working near chemicals, earning the basic wage around 20,000 maygels (500 dollars). But it wasn’t all that bad.

Maglavir was still better than what his country could ever become in its current political landscape. He could go out and have some fun from time to time, and although the apartment was compact, it felt cozy to him. In his country, such apartments didn’t even exist yet. There were only plans to build them, and at a much higher price than in Maglavir.

One day, while walking through the mall shopping for groceries, he saw a display filled with a new tech product. It was called HaRVeen: a type of virtual reality headset, but far more advanced. The section attendant claimed it could replay memories in a vivid and incredibly realistic way.

Armando wanted to join the crowd rushing to buy one, until he saw the price: 200,000 maygels (5,000 dollars). That was ten months of his entire salary. For the next few days, he told himself it probably wasn’t for him, until he overheard his coworkers at the factory raving about it.

What finally convinced him was seeing the store shelves stocked with chips that offered all kinds of experiences featuring beautiful girls. That day, they offered a free 10-minute trial. Even though the line took five hours, those few minutes of being a girl on a beach day convinced him he had to buy a HaRVeen. Even if it meant living tightly for a while.

 

The End

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------------------------------ THANK YOU SO MUCH for WATCHING ------------------------------

HaRVeen (Español) - TG STORY

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Escrita por: “Irene Naridza”

IMAGEN IA HECHA POR HOTPOT: https://hotpot.ai/art-generator

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----- Gracias, Harveen -----

-- Escrito por “Irene Naridza”

Era un soleado día en la ciudad. Las aves trinaban entre los árboles del parque donde decenas de personas paseaban. Alguno solitarios y otros en parejas. Algunos charlaban y otros cuantos jugaban en las zonas recreativas que había por todo el lugar.

Entre las personas que disfrutaban de un paseo casual, estaba Madeline. Ella era una chica universitaria que disfrutaba de su tiempo libre dando paseos por los parques de la ciudad. Estos eran bastante extensos y estaban llenos de árboles, arbustos con flores y sin fin de lugares donde sentarse a pasar el rato.

Ese día salió a lucir su nuevo vestido. era del mismo estilo que un suéter, pero con una falda tubo que llegaba hasta sus muslos. Aunque hacia sol no hacía calor, el clima era fresco, por lo que las mallas blancas que envolvían sus piernas se sentían muy cómodas. Usaba unos zapatos bajos carmesí, del mismo color de su vestido.

Su bolso a juego colgaba de su hombro. Su cabello negro suelto se movía junto a la briza de la tarde. Madeline se sentó en una de las mesas del parque donde una sombrilla ofrecía una cómoda sombra.

Pidió un helado de su sabor favorito, menta con chocolate. Sus uñas rojas resaltaron al pagar con unos billetes. Madeline sonrió al ver el pozuelo de galleta relleno con tres bolas de cremoso helado. Hundió la cucharita en el postre y se la llevo a la boca. Una pequeña huella de su labial rojo quedó marcada en su bocado antes de saborearlo.

Cerró los ojos al sentir el sabor dulce del chocolate y el sabor fuerte de la menta, haciendo una mezcla fantástica para su paladar. Cruzó las piernas antes de dar otro bocado, el algodón rozándose entre sí fue una sensación fantástica. Dio un vistazo al parque; gente riendo y disfrutando del día. Ella se sentía en el mejor momento de su vida.

Todo se volvió negro, las risas se desvanecieron, el calor del sol fue reemplazado por un frío seco, el sabor del helado desapareció de sus papilas. Lo único que veía era oscuridad. Lo único que escuchaba era el latido de su corazón. “Maldición.” Exclamó Armando.

Las pilas del casco de realidad se habían terminado. “Oh, que mala suerte, justo cuando se estaba poniendo increíble.” Dijo decepcionado. “Como sea, compraré nuevas baterías al volver del trabajo mañana.” Guardó el casco dentro de su armario, protegido dentro de su caja.

Se estiró un poco mientras se dirigía a su cocina, la cual no estaba lejos. Nada le quedaba lejos en su departamento compacto. Abrió su alacena y tomó uno de los fideos instantáneos para cenar. Tenía que racionar una para cada dos días. La preparó con agua que había tomado del río para hervirla y purificarla. Se sentó a comer solo alumbrado por la luz del faro de la calle.

Armando era un inmigrante ecuatoriano. Su país se sumió en la miseria porque el pueblo - o al menos el 56% de este - prefería seguir votando a la derecha y sufrir antes que permitir que la izquierda volviese al poder. Un fenómeno inexplicable que desafiaba toda lógica.

En Maglavir no pudo encontrar otro trabajo que no sea de obrero en una fábrica de cerámica. Se la pasaba varias horas moviendo cosas pesadas o estando cerca de químicos para ganar el sueldo básico que era alrededor de 20000 maygels (500 dólares) pero no estaba nada mal.

Maglavir era mejor de lo que su país podría llegar a ser en su panorama político actual. Podía salir a divertirse de vez en cuando y aunque era un departamento compacto, al menos era acogedor para él. En su país ese tipo de departamentos eran inexistentes. Recién había planes para crearlos, pero a un precio mucho mayor de lo que cobraban en Maglavir.

Un día, mientras paseaba por el centro comercial comprando su despensa, vio una gran repisa llena de un nuevo producto tecnológico. Se llamaba ‘HaRVeen’; una especie de casco de realidad virtual, pero mucho más avanzado. La encargada de la sección decía que podía reproducir recuerdos de forma muy vivida y realista.

Armando quiso unirse a la multitud que intentaba comprar uno, hasta que vio el precio; 200000 maygels (5 mil dólares). Era 10 meses de su sueldo entero. Los siguientes días decidió que tal vez eso no era para él, hasta que escuchó en el trabajo a sus compañeros hablar muy bien de dicho artefacto.

Lo que terminó de convencerlo fue ver en los aparadores de la misma tienda chips que contenían todo tipo de vivencias de chicas lindas. Ese día, ofrecían una prueba gratis de 10 minutos. Aunque la fila fue de 5 horas, esos breves minutos siendo una chica en un día de playa lo convencieron de que debía comprar un HaRVeen incluso si tenía que vivir de forma ajustada por un tiempo.

 

EL FIN

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Link a Historia en inglés en Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1548410764-harveen-english-harveen

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----- Si por allí encuentran alguna falta de ortografía, por favor, háganmelo saber -----

 

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UNFAIR REALITY — MOMMY’S GIRL PART 6 — TG STORY

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Written by: “Irene Naridza”

IA PIC MADE BY HOTPOT: https://hotpot.ai/art-generator

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School has been the usual. Impossible math class, history class where we learn that before the year 2000 this country was a mess, social studies class where we learn that all South American countries are a mess, literature class —which has become my favorite— drawing class that I like, biology class where we talk about intestines or the reproduction of living beings, and PE, which is the most uncomfortable of all.

That last one is where I earned that stupid nickname ‘Fem Nathan’ But if I think about it, it’s a little weird. While my classmates are tall, have broad shoulders, and already show signs of a beard, I’m still the same height and build as last year. Not to mention my long hair.

A few days ago in PE, we had to climb a rope tied to the gym ceiling beams. The teacher made us compete against each other. He put me up against a slim girl, probably because of my height. And I lost.

I couldn’t climb very high before I slipped and fell straight onto the mats, which in theory were supposed to cushion the fall. Though it still hurt. That idiot Darwin wouldn’t stop laughing about it all week. The girls weren’t very kind either. The one I competed against was really happy to have beaten me.

The worst part is that this has become the norm. Last Monday, we had the shot-put task. That’s the one where we have to throw a heavy metal ball as far as possible using a technique where you hold it next to your neck before throwing it. What’s the point of that, anyway?

The only time I saw someone use that move in real life was during the riots last year. The fire and looting were terrible, but they only lasted a few hours. A masked guy threw a rock at the riot police using that same technique. I didn’t see what happened next because my mom quickly turned off the TV.

The next day, almost everything was back to normal. But I overheard on the bus that some universities temporarily closed because half their students had stopped showing up. It was strange. HOWEVER.

The teacher gave me the girls’ shot-put weight. He said I could get injured if I tried the boys’ one. Right, because 9 pounds of steel falling on my foot wouldn’t hurt me.

I threw it using the official technique and managed around 13 feet. That actually exceeded my expectations —I thought I’d trip and fall on my face or something— Ballet classes have helped keep me in shape in certain areas like stretching for warm-ups, which I do fine. The distance runs don’t feel too heavy anymore.

Darwin, the jerk who used to be my friend, threw the shot far past the line the teacher had drawn on the ground. That earned him cheers and applause. This world is kind of unfair.
“Not bad on agility, but try practicing with lighter weights.” the teacher told me, with a poker face. Then he turned back to Darwin with a huge smile. “If you keep practicing, you’ll go far.” he said.

My classmates wouldn’t stop whispering about how ridiculous it was that I scored lower than some of the girls on the ranking sheet. They didn’t care that I was standing right next to them. They said things like, “I’ve never seen such a weak boy.” and “When the exams come, whoever gets him as an opponent is going to pass easily.” That last one came from the girl I outran in the long-distance race, but who beat me in shot put.

I couldn’t take their whispers out in the courtyard. That’s how I ended up in the library. A place I rarely visited before my suspension. No one’s allowed to make noise here. The librarian’s kind of grumpy, which actually worked in my favor. It’s a safe place, and not as boring as I once thought.

Most of the literature available is made up of thick books, hard to read because of the old-fashioned language, and honestly pretty dull. They’re considered national treasures because they were written by local authors. Seriously, has no one written a halfway decent book since the last century? Even a lazy knockoff of something exciting would’ve been great.

Even the literature teacher admitted those books aren’t appropriated for getting us into the habit of reading. That’s why she lets us read other stuff when we have to write book reports. Something awesome is that she even accepts comic book summaries.

Last time, I wrote a report on ‘Super Bolivar’ Luckily, the library had a few issues, but not the full collection. Thanks to my job selling hot chocolate with bread, I was able to save up and buy the rest from a bookstore owned by one of Mom’s friends. It’s a really nice place. The report itself, though, was another story.

I expected a happy ending, but I wasn’t ready for what I read. Simon Bolivar’s story didn’t end well. His dream of The Gran Colombia failed. The countries he helped free wanted to go their own way. That was far from the supernation Bolivar had envisioned. Understandable, really. We should all be able to choose our own path.

He spent his final days bedridden with tuberculosis, forgotten, and delusional. The worst part was his final words; “I have plowed the sea.” referring to his fight to free South America from the grip of Spain. That was just too harsh of an ending.

When I talked about it with Olga and Jennifer, they said they were devastated too. Olga said the saddest part wasn’t the comic itself but that it was based entirely on Bolivar’s real history.

That’s the problem with reality. It’s harsh and unforgiving toward people who try to do good or simply do the right thing. Sometimes the opposite happens; people with bad intentions rise to the top, even when they don’t hide their cruelty. And the worst part is, they don’t always get there alone.

The worst kind of world is one where evil rule with a society that supports and validates it. I don’t want to be part of that group. I’d like to make a difference. Even if I’m the only one. I think it would still be worth it.

“WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-OOOH!” That was the siren announcing the end of recess.

I put the book back on the shelf before heading out. “See you.” I say to the library supervisor. It’s freezing in the hallway. To the left are the classrooms, and to the right, the railing. Since it’s the third floor, you can see the small buildings and houses surrounding the school.

The wind is harsh too. One of the girls who had been in the library shivered from the cold. It’s not the best time of year to be wearing socks and a skirt. Mom’s gotten into the habit of making sure I wear my tights — between few other girl clothes — I don’t mind anymore. It’s better than freezing, and besides, you can’t see them under my pants.

At first, I thought they were just regular navy-blue tights, but the other day, while doing laundry, I noticed the tag had the Ministry of Education’s logo. Since it’s a public school, the Ministry provides the uniforms, but they assign them based on student data.

I don’t think they’re allowed to give a girl’s uniform to a boy. Because if they were... Mom would make sure I wore it every single day.

 

To Be Continued…

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Link English Caption in Deviant Art:   

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Link Spanish Story in Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1538963519-la-ni%C3%B1a-de-mam%C3%A1-parte-6-una-realidad-injusta    

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Link English Story in Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1538965925-mommy%27s-girl-part-6-unfair-reality

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Link English Caption in Blogger:   

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Link Spanish Caption in Blogger: https://irenenaridzastorycaptions.blogspot.com/2025/05/una-realidad-injusta-la-ninia-de-mama.html  

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