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The world's most beautiful drowned

The story "The world's most beautiful drowned" was written in 1968. Part, along with six other stories, the story collection was published in 1972 under the title "The incredible and sad story of candida Erendira and Her Heartless Grandmother."

The first children who saw the dark and slinky bulge approaching through the sea let themselves think that was an enemy ship. Then they saw it had no flags or masts and they thought it was a whale. But when it became stranded on the beach, they removed the clumps of seaweed, the jellyfish tentacles and the remains of fish and flotsam, and only then discovered he was a drowning.

had played with him all afternoon, burying and digging in the sand, when someone chanced to see them and sounded the alarm in the village. The men who carried him to the nearest house noticed that he weighed more than all the known dead, almost as much as a horse, and said maybe he'd been too much time and the water had got into the bones . When they laid on the floor they had been much greater than all men, as was barely enough room in the house, but thought maybe the ability to follow grow after death was in the nature of certain drowning. He had the smell of the sea, and all the way to suppose that it was the corpse of a human being, because his skin was covered with a crust of drag and mud.

did not have to wipe his face to know it was a dead alien. The town had only about twenty wooden houses, stone courtyards with no flowers, scattered on the edge of a desert place. The land was so scarce that mothers were always in fear that the wind would carry off their children, and the dead were causing them the years they had thrown off the cliffs. But the sea was calm and bountiful and all the men fitted seven boats. So when they found the drowned man they simply had to look one another to realize they were all there.

That night went to work at sea. While the men went to find out if anyone was missing in neighboring villages, women stayed behind to care for the drowned. They took the mud with grass swabs, they removed the underwater stones entangled hair, and they scraped the crust off with tools for scaling fish. As they did, noticed that the vegetation was faraway oceans and deep water, and that his clothes were in piitrafas, as if he had sailed through labyrinths of coral. Also note that bore his death with pride, for no have the lonely look of other drowned in the sea, nor the haggard, needy look of the drowned river. But only when they finished cleaning were aware of the kind of man he was, and then gasped. Not only was the tallest, the strongest, most virile, and best built man they had ever seen, but even though you were seeing did not fit in the imagination.

in the village did not find a bed big enough for a table would tend not robust enough to wake. Do not come party pants taller men or shirts of the most corpulent Sunday or shoes biggest feet. Fascinated by his huge and beautiful, the women then decided to make him some pants with a piece of sail and a shirt from some bridal linen so that he could continue his death with dignity. As they sewed, sitting in a circle, gazing at the corpse between stitches, it seemed that the wind had never been so steady nor the Caribbean has never been so anxious as that night, and assumed that the change had something to do with the dead. Thought that if that magnificent man had lived in the village, his house would have had the widest doors, the roof top and the strongest floor and the bed frame would have been midship iron bolts, and his wife would have been happier. Thought they would have had such authority that had brought the fish in the sea with only call them by their names, and have put so much effort into this work he had done springs forth from the stones dry and could have planted flowers on the cliffs. They secretly compared with their own men, thinking that would not be able to do in a lifetime so that he could do in one night, and ended up dismissing them deep in their hearts as the most squalid and petty things of the land. They were wandering through that maze of fantasy when the oldest of the women, who as the oldest had seen the drowned man with more compassion than passion, sighed: "You

face of someone called Esteban.

was true. The majority had only to look again to realize that it could have another name. The more stubborn, they were the youngest, stayed with the illusion that when they put his clothes, lay among the flowers and patent leather shoes, could be called Lautaro. But it was wishful thinking. The canvas was scarce, trousers sewn badly cut and worse were too tight, and the hidden strength of his heart popped the buttons of his shirt. After midnight the whistling wind and fell into the sea Wednesday drowsiness. The silence ended with the last question: was Esteban. Women who had dressed him, who had combed his hair, which he had cut his nails and shaved could not repress a shudder of pity when they had to resign themselves to being dragged along the floor. It was then that they understood how he must have been unhappy with that huge body even after death if it bothered him. They saw him in life, condemned to going through doors sideways, cracking his head on crossbeams, to stand in visits, not knowing what to do with his soft, pink hands of crab, while the hostess seat sought stronger and begged him sit here scared to death Stephen, do me a favor, and he leaned against the wall, smiling, do not worry, ma'am, I'm fine, heels raw and his back roasted from time to repeat the same thing all visits, do not worry, ma'am, I'm fine, just to avoid embarrassment of breaking the chair, and perhaps never knowing that those who said do not go, Esteban, at least wait until boiling coffee, were the same as later on would whisper the big boob, how nice, it was the handsome fool. This thought women from the body a little before dawn. Later, when he covered his face with a handkerchief so that the light would not bother him, he looked so dead forever, so defenseless, so much like their men, who opened their first cracks of tears in the heart. It was one of the younger ones who began to sob. The other, coming to, went from sighs to wails, and the more they sobbed the more they felt to mourn, because they drowned was becoming increasingly Stephen, so they wept as the man was helpless in the land, the mildest and most helpful, the poor Esteban. So when the men returned with the news that the drowned man was not from the neighboring villages, the women felt a gap between the tears of joy.

- Blessed be God sighed, "is ours!

The men thought the fuss was only womanish frivolity. Tired of the tortuous investigations of the night, all they wanted was to get rid of the nuisance after the intruder before turning on the sun that day arid brave and no wind. They improvised a litter with the remains of ratchets and booms, and tied his high cockpits, to bear the weight of the body to the cliffs. They wanted to tie the anchor from a cargo ship to anchor smoothly in the deep seas where fish are blind and divers die of nostalgia, so the bad currents would not bring him back to shore, as had happened with other bodies. But the more hurried, more things happened to women for wasting time. They walked about like startled hens, pecking sea charms on their breasts, some interfering drowned because they wanted to put the scapular of the good wind, other side to put a wrist compass, and after so women take off from there, get out of the way , looks almost make me fall about the deceased, the men boarded the liver were suspicions and began to grumble that much hardware for what purpose the altar for a stranger, if many studs and stews that it would take up to chew the sharks, but they were cheesy relics Trimpots, fetching and carrying, stumbling as he went on sighing them what they are not was in tears, so the men finally exploded with since when has there ever been such a fuss over a drifting corpse, a drowned one, a stiff piece of shit. One of the women, mortified by such insolence, then removed the body the tissue of the face, and the men gasped.

was Esteban. There was no need to repeat it for them to recognize him. If they had been told Sir Walter Raleigh, perhaps until they have been impressed with his gringo accent, with his parrot on his shoulder, his killing blunderbuss, but Stephen could be only one in the world, and there he lay like a tarpon, without boots, with pants premature and those stony nails that could cut with a knife. They only had to take the handkerchief off his face to see that he was ashamed that he had no fault to be so big or so heavy or so handsome, and if he had known that would happen would have sought a more discreet drown in, seriously, I myself would have tied an anchor of a gallon in the neck and staggered like one who does not want the thing on the cliffs, not upsetting people now with this Wednesday dead, as you say, not bothering anyone with this crap of cold meat that has nothing to do with me. There was so much truth in his manner that even the most mistrustful men, who felt the bitterness of endless nights at sea fearing that their women would tire of dreaming about them to dream of drowned men, even they and others who were harder shuddered in the marrow with the sincerity of Stephen.

was how they made the most splendid funeral they could conceive of for an abandoned drowned. Some women who had gone to get flowers in the surrounding villages returned with other women who did not believe what they were told, and they went back for more flowers when they saw the dead, and brought more and more until there were so many flowers and so many people who could barely walk. Late orphan pained them to return to the waters, and she chose a father and mother from among the best, and others you became brothers, uncles and cousins, so that through him all the inhabitants of the village became kinsmen yes. Some sailors who heard the weeping from a distance went the completeness of the course and people heard of one who had himself tied to the mainmast, remembering ancient fables of mermaids. While they fought for the privilege of carrying on the shoulders of the steep slope of the cliffs, men and women became aware for the first time of the desolation of their streets, the dryness of their courtyards, the narrowness of their dreams, compared to the splendor and beauty of their drowned. He was released without an anchor, to come back if he wished and whenever he wished, and all held their breath for the fraction of centuries that the body took to fall into the abyss. They did not need to look at each other to realize they were no longer complete, and would never be. But they also knew that everything would be different from then, that their houses would have wider doors, ceilings higher, and stronger floors to the memory of Stephen could go everywhere without bumping into beams, and no one dared to whisper in the future and the big boob died, alas, the handsome fool has died because they were going to paint the colorful facades happy to perpetuate the memory of Stephen, and went to break the back springs digging in the stones and planting flowers on the cliffs, to the dawn of the years Venture passengers on large ships wake suffocated by the smell of gardens on the high seas , and the captain would come down from his castle with his dress uniform, with his astrolabe, his lodestar and his row of war medals, pointing to the promontory of roses on the horizon would say in fourteen languages, look there, where the wind is so peaceful now that he sleeps under the bed, there where the sun shines so much they do not know where to turn sunflowers, yes, there is the people Stephen.

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Written by Juan Rulfo and published in America magazine No. 62 (January 1950). Subsequently included in El llano en llamas (1953).

Natalia moved into the arms of his mother and wept long there with a crying softly. It was a cry for many days endured, kept until now we return to Zenzontla and saw his mother and began to feel eager to comfort.

However, before, between the work of many difficult days, when we had to bury Tanilo in a well in the land of Talpa, without anyone to help us, when she and I both alone together our forces and we started to dig the grave digging lumps with our hands, giving us soon hurry to hide Tanilo into the well and not scaring anyone anymore to continue with the smell of death-filled air, then cried.

not then return, when we came walking at night without knowing the calm, groping as if asleep, and stamping with steps that seemed shots over the grave of Tanilo. At that time, Natalia seemed to bring the heart hardened and pressed not to feel it bubbling inside her. But his eyes did not leave any tears.

came to mourn far, leaning against his mother, only to distressed and knew that he was suffering, bereaved of way at all, because I felt the tears of it inside me as if wringing the rag of our sins.

Because the thing is that Santos Tanilo between Natalia and I killed him. We took him to Talpa died. And he died. We knew we would not endure such a long way, but even so, we take pushing between the two, thinking to kill it forever. That did it.

The idea of \u200b\u200bgoing out of my brother Talpa Tanilo. He first came up with anyone. For years I was asking to take him. For years. From that day dawned with purple blisters spread over the arms and legs. When the blisters then become sores will not go out where no blood and there was a yellow thing as gum copal that distilled water is thick. Since then, I remember very well that we said how much fear was not having no remedy. I wanted to go see the Virgin of Talpa, so that she cured her gaze with his wounds. Although I knew that Talpa was away and we would have to walk a lot under the sun of day and the cold March night, nevertheless wanted to go. The Virgin would give the remedy for relief of those things that never dried. She could do this: wash the things, put everything back in again as a field recently rained. And there in front of her, would stop their evil, nothing would hurt him again and hurt more. So he thought.

And we hold that Natalia and I to take. I had to accompany Tanilo because it was my brother. Natalia would go well, anyway, because it was his wife. He had help taking him by the arm, weighing it on the way and perhaps turn over their shoulders, as he dragged his hope.

I knew beforehand what was inside Natalia. He knew something of it. He knew, for example, that your legs round, hard and hot like rocks in the midday sun, were alone for some time. I already knew that. We had been together many times, but always in the shadow of Tanilo separated us, we felt that they got their hands blistered between us and took Natalie to follow him care. And it would always while he was alive.

I know now that Natalie is sorry for what happened. And so am I, but that does not save us from remorse or give us no peace as ever. You may not reassuring to know that Tanilo would have died anyway because he was playing, and that nothing was going to Talpa served, so there, so far, it is almost certain that she had died there as here, or maybe little bit After some places than others, because everything was mortified by the way, the more blood lost, and courage and all, all those things together were what killed him sooner. The bad news is that Natalie and I took him to push, when he no longer wanted to go, when he felt it was useless to continue and asked us what we returned. A ground lug it got up to keep walking, saying that we could not go back.

"is now closer to Zenzontla Talpa." That we call him. But then Talpa was far, beyond a few days.

What we wanted was to die. Not be amiss to say that That's what we wanted since before leaving Zenzontla and each of the nights we spent in the way of Talpa. It's something we can not understand now, but what we wanted then I remember very well.

I remember those nights. First we alumbrábamos with ocotes. After dark we let the fire ash and then Natalie and I looked for the shadow of something to hide from the light of heaven. So we arrimábamos to the solitude of the countryside, outside Tanilo eyes and disappeared into the night. And the loneliness that we pushed each other. I put her arms the body of Natasha and her choice that served him. Felt like rest, he forgot many things and then left his body numb and plunged into a great relief.

always happened that the land on which we slept was hot. And the flesh of Natalia, the wife of my brother Tanilo, then warmed in the heat of the earth. After those two together burned hot and did so in a wake from sleep. Then my hands were behind her, came and went above and embers that it was her, first gently, but then clenched as if to squeeze the blood. So over and over again, night after night, until it was dawn and the cold wind blew out the light of our bodies. Natalia and I did that to one side of the path of Talpa, when we Tanilo to the Virgin relieve him.

Now everything has gone. Tanilo eased to live. You can no longer say anything work so great that he could scarcely live, having poisoned her body and filled with stagnant water inside of it out for every crack of your legs or arms. Some wounds this big, that opened slowly, very slowly, then let out a gush of air and spoiled thing that had us all scared.

But now he is dead the thing is otherwise. Now Natalie is crying for him, perhaps he sees, from where all the great remorse that takes over your soul. She says she has felt Tanilo face these last days. That was all that served him for it, the face of Tanilo, always wet with sweat in the effort left him to endure the pain. He felt closer to her mouth, hiding her hair, asking, in a voice apenitas, to help him. He says he told her he had finally healed, they no longer bother him any pain. Now I can be with you, Natalia. Help me to be with you ", supposedly said that.

We had just come out of Talpa leave him there buried it deep in that groove depth as we did for burial.

And Natalia forgotten me since then. I know how before his eyes shone like moonlit puddles. Destained But suddenly, he wiped his eyes as if he had rolled on the ground. And did not seem to see nothing. All that existed for her was the Tanilo her, she had looked while he was alive and buried him when he had to die.

It took twenty days to find the real path of Talpa. Until then had been the three solos. From there began to get together with people coming out of everywhere, that had led us on that path as wide like a flowing river, which made us walk dragged, pushed around like if we take tied with strands of dust. Because the land was rising, with the bustle of people, a white powder as corn husks and turned up high to fall, but the feet when walking and they did it back up again, so all the time was that dust above and below us. And above this ground was the empty sky, no clouds, just dust, but dust does not provide any shade.

We had to wait at night to rest from the sun and the way that white light.

Then the days were getting longer. Zenzontla we had left in mid-February, and now starting in March dawned soon. Barely closed our eyes at dusk, when we wake up the sun again the same sun that seemed to run out of a while ago.

never felt it was slower and violent life as a amontonadero walk among people, as if we were a hive of worms crammed under the sun, twisting between the closure of the dust enclosed us all in the same village and took us as trapped. The eyes were the polvarera; gave in the dust like stumble on something you could not pass. And the sky is always gray, as gray leaf spot and heavy crushed us all from above. Only sometimes, when we crossed a river, the powder was higher and clearer. Feverish plunge head and blackened in the green water, and for a moment all of us out blue smoke, like steam coming out of his mouth with the cold. But then disappeared again slightly mixed into the dust, covered some others from the sun that heat the sun shared among everyone.

Night will come someday. In this thought. Night will come and we'll get to rest. Now it's across the day, running through it as heat and sun. Then we stop. Later. What we have to do for now is effort after effort to hurry along behind like so many before us and many others. That's the point. Well to rest and good when we're dead.

In that Natalia and I thought and perhaps Tanilo, when we were on the road of Talpa, including the procession, trying to get the first up to the Virgin, before he ran out of miracles.

But Tanilo started getting meaner. There came a time when he no longer wanted to go. The flesh of his feet had burst and the blowdown that blood began to fall out. We take care of until it was good. But, nevertheless, did not want to follow:

"I'll be sitting here a day or two and then again Zenzontla me." That told us.

But Natalie and I did not want. There was something inside of us that would not let us feel no pity for any Tanilo. We wanted to get him to Talpa, because at that point, as it was, still had plenty of life. So while I rinsed the feet Natalia with liquor in order to deflate him, gave him encouragement. He said that only the Virgin of Talpa cure him. She was the only one who could do that he will get better forever. She just. Virgin had many, but only that of Talpa was good. That's what Natalie said.

Tanilo

And then he began to mourn with tears that did groove between the sweat of your face and then he cursed himself for being bad. Natalia spirt wiped the tears with her shawl, and between her and I got up the floor to walk one more time before nightfall.

Thus, tugs, was how we came with him to Talpa.

In the last few days also we felt tired. Natalia and I felt that we would bend the body from more and more. It was as if something was apprehended and charged a heavy bundle on us. Tanilo more often we fall and we had to lift and sometimes carry on their shoulders. Maybe we were like that: with the body loose and full of lazy to walk. But the people who were there with us made us walk faster.

At night, he calmed down runaway world. Shone scattered everywhere around the fires and the fire people prayed the rosary pilgrimage with his arms crossed, staring into the sky from Talpa. And he could hear the wind carried and brought this rumor, stirring, until it became a single bellow. Shortly after everything was still. At about midnight I could hear someone singing very far from us. Then he closed his eyes and waited sleepless dawn.

Talpa We entered the praise singing. We were out in mid-February and reached the last Talpa days of March, when many people came back. Everything was because Tanilo got to do penance. As was surrounded by men carrying bunches of cactus and scapular hanging, he also thought to bring theirs. Dio feet tied to each other with the sleeves of his shirt so his steps became more desperate. Then wanted to wear a crown of thorns. Little bit then blindfolded, and later, in the last stretches of the road, knelt on the ground, and so, walking on the bones of their knees with hands folded back, Talpa reached that thing was my Tanilo brother Santos, that thing so full of poultices and thread leaving dark blood in the air, in passing, a sour smell like dead animal.

And at least remember what we got from the dances. Just when we realized and I was there with the long rattle, giving hard blows on the ground with their feet bruised and barefoot. All seemed angry, as if shaking the courage he had with him a long time, or as if making a last effort to get to live a little longer.

Perhaps seeing the dances he remembered when he went every year to Tollman, the novena of the Lord, and danced the night away until their bones are loosened, but without getting tired. Maybe that was agreed and wanted to revive its former strength.

Natalia and I saw it and for a moment. Then we saw him raise his arms and whip her body into the ground, the rattle still ringing in his hands spattered with blood. We took it in tow, hoping to defend the stomping of the dancers, from the fury of those feet that rolled over the rocks and jumped crushing the earth without knowing that something had fallen in their midst.

astride, as if crippled, entered him in the church. Natalia I knelt beside her, enfrentito of golden figurine that was the Virgin of Talpa. And Tanilo began to pray and let fall a tear is large, deep inside out, blow out the candle that Natalia had placed in his hands. But he did not realize this, the luminary candles lit so that there was cut off that thing with which one is known to account for what happens next to one. Continued praying with a candle off. Praying loudly to hear that said.

But not earned. He died anyway.

"... Our hearts go out for a prayer as she wrapped in pain. Many scrambled lamentations hope. Not deafen his tenderness and to the cries and tears, as she suffers with us. She knows how to erase that stain, and let the heart becomes soft and pure to receive His mercy and charity. The Virgin of ours, our mother who wants no part of our sins, which are blamed for our sins, which would bring in their arms so they do not hurt us life, is here with us, relieves fatigue and diseases of the soul and our body ahuatado, wounded and pleading. She knows that every day our faith is better because it is made sacrifices ... "So said the priest from the pulpit up there. And then they stopped talking, let people praying all at once, with a noise like that of many wasps frightened by the smoke.

But Tanilo and did not hear what he had said the priest. He had stayed still, his head leaning on his knees. And when Natalie moved him to get up he was dead.

Outside you could hear the noise of the dances, the drums and the shawm, the ringing of bells. And that was when he gave me grief. See so many living things, see the Virgin Mary there in front of us simply giving your smile and see the other side Tanilo, like a nuisance. I was sad.

But we take you there for him to die, that's what I do not forget.

Now we're both in Zenzontla. We have become without him. And Natalia's mother has not asked me anything, or that I did with my brother Tanilo or anything. Natalia has been to mourn over his shoulders and told him that way everything happened.

And I start to feel as if we had not gotten anywhere, we're here in passing, to rest, and then continue walking. I do not know where, but we must continue, because here We are very close to the regret and the memory of Tanilo.

might even start to fear us each other. That thing of not saying anything since we left Talpa may want to say that. Maybe we both have very close Tanilo body, lying on the mat rolled up, filled inside and outside a swarm of blue flies that buzzed like a great hum out of his mouth, the mouth that could not be closed despite the efforts of Nancy and myself, and that seemed to breathe even without finding breath. From that Tanilo whom nothing was hurting, but he was as sore, hands and feet engarruñados and eyes wide open like watching your own death. And here and there all his wounds dripping a yellow water, full of the smell that spilled all over and felt in the mouth, as if he were sipping a thick, bitter honey melting in the blood of one each breath.

It maybe that what we agree here more often: the one Tanilo that we buried in the cemetery of Talpa that Natalia and I threw up dirt and rocks that they were not to dig up the animals of the hill.