Ayúdanos a darle un final a un relato
Hemos creado un ejercicio para los amantes de las letras. Se trata de escribir un final para el relato La colina de Poe. Tienen dos opciones; escribir el final y publicarlo en los comentarios de este post; o escribir un post y publicarlo en cualquiera de las comunidades aliadas de @hispapro. En caso de publicar un post deberán usar la etiqueta #hispaliterario, tanto en el post como en Twitter. @hispaliterario seleccionará dos mejores finales y le dará un premio sorpresa.
La colina de Poe
Poe era un escritor que vivía en la colina al norte de Indiápolis; el pueblo más apacible del estado de Veramendoza. En la mente de los espectadores la colina se vislumbraba tenebrosa, pero para la vida cotidiana del escritor su morada era solitaria; en noches de luna, lúgubre; y siempre tenía acceso a internet.
Gracias a la tecnología y a pesar de su soledad, Poe tenía un gran número de seguidores en las redes sociales, quienes admiraban su estilo oscuro y macabro de escritura. Sin embargo, Poe no estaba contento con simplemente tener seguidores en línea; quería tenerlos a su alcance físico.
Así que comenzó a invitar gente a su cabaña; con la excusa de que iba a tener sesiones de lectura en vivo de sus obras más aterradoras, permitió que invadieran su soledad y su colina. Sus seguidores, emocionados por la oportunidad de conocer a su ídolo, aceptaron con entusiasmo.
Las tertulias eran amenas, la voz de Poe los seducía con una extraña fascinación que jamás habían experimentado; la gente subía a la colina ansiosa e incluso llegó un momento en que el deseo de escuchar los cuentos macabros se hizo imprescindibles para dormir y aunque sentían que la voz del lector los desgarraba, que lo que iba contando el escritor les estaba sucediendo a ellos, que eran las víctimas del asesino que uno a uno se iba llevando sus almas, no abandonaron la colina; al contrario, dormían de día frente a la casa de Poe para esperar allí la siguiente noche.
Indiápolis cayó rendida ante la lectura de Poe; sus cuentos tenían hechizado a el pueblo; él mismo se asombraba ante el poder de sus relatos, incluso dejó de escribir para inventar oralmente las historias y usaba a la gente como personajes. Supo de secretos, de creencias ocultas, de personas enigmáticas; todo el pueblo se le reveló en sus misterios; tenía en sus manos la verdad de todos, en su talento la oscuridad y la luz para revolver lo falso con lo cierto y cuando lo hizo, despertó la irá de la creación; creó un monstruo amorfo, colectivo, de mil cabezas, que empezaron a atacarse.
Desde la colina Poe narraba y con el hilo de su voz movía al pueblo, a su antojo, como desean los escritores mover a sus lectores. Uno a uno caía al suelo, muerto, en una crueldad que amenazaba acabar con el mundo.
Help us to give an ending to a story
We have created an exercise for lovers of literature. It is about writing an ending for the story Poe's Hill. You have two options; write the ending and publish it in the comments of this post; or write a post and publish it in any of the allied communities of @hispapro. In case you publish a post you must use the hashtag #hispaliterario, both in the post and on Twitter. @hispaliterario will select two best finalists and give them a surprise prize.
The Poe Hill
Poe was a writer who lived on the hill north of Indiapolis; the quietest town in the state of Veramendoza. In the minds of the curious, the hill looked dreary, but for the writer's daily life his abode was lonely; on moonlit nights, dreary; and he always had access to the Internet.
Thanks to technology and despite his solitude, Poe had a large following on social networks, who admired his dark and macabre writing style. However, Poe wasn't satisfied with just having online followers; he wanted them within his physical reach.
So he began inviting people to his cabin; with the excuse that he was going to hold reading sessions with his most terrifying works, he allowed them to invade his solitude and his hill. His followers, excited by the opportunity to meet their idol, eagerly accepted.
The gatherings were pleasant, Poe's voice seduced them with a strange fascination they had never experienced before; people climbed the hill anxiously and there even came a time when the desire to listen to the macabre stories became essential to sleep and although they felt that the voice of the reader was tearing them apart, that what the writer was telling was happening to them, that they were the victims of the murderer who one by one was taking their souls, they did not leave the hill; on the contrary, they slept during the day in front of Poe's house to wait there for the next night.
Indiapolis fell in love with Poe's reading; his stories had the people spellbound; he himself was amazed by the power of his tales, he even stopped writing to orally invent the stories and used the people as characters. He knew of secrets, of hidden beliefs, of enigmatic people; all the people were revealed to him in his mysteries; he had in his hands the truth of all, in his talent the darkness and the light to mix the false with the true and when he did it, he awakened the will of creation; he created an amorphous monster, collective, of a thousand heads, that began to attack each other.
From the hill Poe narrated and with the thread of his voice he moved the people, at will, as writers wish to move their readers. One by one he fell to the ground, dead, in a cruelty that threatened to end the world.
DISCORD >> KOD | ShapeShift | Ecency | Crypto-shotsPortada diseñada en Canva con imágenes de Pixabay:
Cover designed in Canva with images from Pixabay:
Colina/Hill
Poe
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