Christmas is getting closer every day. On this occasion, Francisco Portillo López, 1st year student of Degree in language and Spanish Literature, delights us with a short story focused on an alternative vision of Christmas.

When the nurse left, I felt empty of strength: all that remained was the rush of oxygen and that scorching light that made me close my eyes. Well, the runrun and also my parents. 

I felt sorry for Dad trying to disguise himself with that pack of handkerchiefs, sitting on the only chair. Mom made that noise of when she doesn't know how to fix things, marking the pace with her heels: clack, clack, clack.... 

The three of us were conjured up to make it to Three Kings Day, as if a gift could slice the anguish into little pieces. If Melchior brought me the lightsaber, I would leave it for Dad to slice up the black cloud that was floating in our midst. That's right, Dad. 

The moon came out and winked at me. I was home again and it was Christmas Eve and Christmas and Dad's birthday and April Fools and New Year's Eve and New Year's Eve and the Three Kings. Nougat in boxes of a thousand colors, a birthday cake, watermelon jelly beans, twelve grapes and a cream roscón, with frosted slices and a bean that kept touching my sister. Mom kissed me on the forehead and sent me out to the balcony for a moment. Melchior was waiting for me with Grandma. He invited me to get on his big camel and I accepted without thinking; there was plenty of room. We took to the skies, Melchior smiled silently and the camel seemed to have known me all my life. 

I did not want to wake up. I was not sad. The pain was gone. I sank into a deep embrace and saw my family in the distance, as happy as I was and sure that I was finally okay. I spent a long time blowing them giant kisses from above....

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