This is the fairy story of a despotic King from far far away.
He is the most powerful man in his kingdom. “Long live the king!!” screams the crowd…But he is crying, praying to you to continue reading. He knows that when you finish, his fairyland will be gone with him…….PUFF!!!

Susana's House (Part I)





The sandstorm is over...
There is nothing above except a blue sky and a golden red Sun. Sand, infinity sand stops us from fall. No hill, no shadow, no rocks... Lonely cactuses decorate the landscape. Small green cactuses support the sky. Baking air cooks us. There seems to be nothing else, but if you see closer. You’ll see toys buried by the sandstorm…dolls, dollhouses, trains, teddy bears, cars. There is no move, but
A distant, forty five years old man walks on the desert. Hot sand has burned his feet. He wears no more than blue jeans. In front of him, a cool blue puddle gives him energy. Three palm-trees surround the puddle. Two brown camels and a young lady wearing a blue long dress wait for him. Nothing, but a mirage.     
How long will it take to go there?
Three minutes, an eternity, an infinitesimal sum of what?… though he will get there. He will realize it was a mirage. He will stop for a moment, and imagine the same mirage. After three or four mirage, he will get mad. He will drink the sand-water and escape with the girl wearing the blue long dress…though he will lie down on the sand.
Who is he? What brought you here? Where are you from? Where are you going? I only see a blurred face. He has a cut on his chest, burned skin.
There was a time when you were a merchant, the richest one. You lived in Mesopotamia. Your house was of gold…No, I can’t make up a story. I don’t know who you are. What difference will it make to say you were rich or poor? Wise or fool? Bad or good? Nothing…
You will continue walking, looking for water. There is water on your feet!! Two meters separate you from serenity!!!! Why don’t you dig in???You can’t, the sands will burned your hands.
You dreamed of great adventures on the jungle, on saving the world from tyranny. You won’t. I can’t make up a story for you… I ain’t Mark Twain, Oscar Wild or Carlos Fuentes.
Look over there, the black-button eyed doll and broken leg. She came in the last sandstorm. She was gonna be your neighbor. The storm broke her leg. I couldn’t imagine a story for her. I brought her to this world without a story. She became a doll. Unfinished character with button eyes. They can’t talk, but they watch you. She has no ears, no nose, but she ‘s alive.
Look at the train on your right, before it's buried. You were gonna travel through the world. Conquer new worlds, I couldn’t imagine that.

Yet, I’m here trying to save you from nowhere. A last chance to survive  the sandsee, a meaningless infinity. 


A sandstorm comes. New toys, stories which will never come true, fly through the wind.
Sand covers old toys. Button eyes are closed by the sand; they will see never the bright red, yellow sun again. You cover your face with your hand. You close your eyes for a moment, and dream a new land I can’t make for you. Pieces of porcelain dolls touch your soft skin, and cut like glass.

What can I do for you? I can offer you madness. Sweet madness. You will think your cut on your chest was done by a dragon. You will think you need only three minutes to reach what a wizard took from you…You will dream awake. This is all I have to offer you…

The sandstorm is over...

 A doll is on your feet. You pick her; and go to the doll’s house a few meters on your left…

To be continued