Cidade (Metafiction)

“WHAT?

My eyes opened. My eardrum vibrates from the sharp voice

“There’s no such guarantee”

“There’s nothing to gain here! You wanna live like this forever?”

The fight started again. Damn…Can’t I just sleep….???Mom and dad???

     Well, for me also, there is no such hope. A boy with a dad working as a part-timer in a Factory nearby Lisbon and a mom working as an odd-jobber in a restaurant is exposed in the harsh reality too much.

“What do you want! Ya think it will change if we go there?”

“Stop giving such a fuckin’ damn shit@#%#@@$!$!!$!@

“Aah!!”

My heart starts to shake from my mom’s scream. Wanna get out of this dirty room and do somethin’ but there’s nothing I can actually do. I KNOW that. My eyes are now foggy. Something hot comes out, and wets my blanket.

Feeling so lethargic.Lying like a paralyzed patient waiting for the death.…

I hear nothing. I hope someone takes me to somewhere.

SOMEWHERE

Somewhere peaceful

The last paradise of the Pacific? Great

Being Santiago of ‘The Alchemist’ and hitting the road? Sure. Why not

I hope to get out of this place, this situation.

I hope to live elsewhere, in any places

I hope to make new friends

I hope to sleep well

I hope
.
.
.
.
.

My family is actually from Portugal. My sister and I was born in Lisbon and lived in that dirty, old city for a long time. I don’t wannna give a damn shit to my birthplace. But it was so hard to have such positive thoughts about Portugal.

A dready winter days, a narrow road filled with gray-colored buildings, a loud horn of old cars, a never-ending decline of economy.

My mom and dad were not so happy about this declining country. So that’s why we finally, finally, after such a long conflict, decided to move to Brazil. Actually, I can’t believe how our damn family did that. We just barely made our ends meet. And how the hell we crossed that vast Atlantic and came here? I dunno. The complicated process is definitely not my interest.

Anyway I’m here

Here

Brazil, Rio de Janeiro, Cidade de deus, no street address

Rio de Janeiro. Not too short, not too long. Dunno why, but it just sounds good. It’s called a place with a pleasant breeze. That is how tourists call here. ...They call here one of the three best harbors in the world, but I just don’t get the shit out of it. Here, a place jammed with millions of people, is just an ordinary cidade for our family. By the way, people here call cidade in such a strange way. I’ve never heard of that stupid accent in Lisbon. Sometimes I don’t even get what these people are saying…We are using the same language…Right??haha…Damn

I sometimes do miss my home country, especially when I see the gray statue of Jesus. When that statue is covered with a grating for a repair work, it looks just hideous. VERY HIDEOUS. But I dunno how that actually looks like, because I’ve never seen that. No no…I couldn’t see that…this is more correct. That Jesus statue stands with its back toward our town. What I can only see through the dirty window of my room is the back of the statue. 


I hope to see the face of the Jesus statue one day.
I hope to go to the top of the statue
I hope to see how this city looks like
I hope

Today was really chilly and gloomy. I mean it. The yucky sandwich made me feel even gloomier. But my feeling is not important. Anyway I have to wake up at 7 and do some works to have our family ends meet. That is, giving out some papers with advertisement to some random passerby. 

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To mention first, this story is not finished completely and will further be modified and added until it is completed.

This fiction is about a boy living in a favela of Brazilian city, Rio De Janeiro. Favela is a similar concept with Slum. Plus, the word 'cidade' means city in Portuguese. Basically, the main theme of this story is a miserable life of people living in favela. I will try in order to finish this story as soon as possible, but won't rush.