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Ágora by nachomolina

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· @nachomolina · (edited)
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Ágora
<div class=text-justify>

#### Ágora

<br>

<center><sub>**-:-**</sub></center>

#

<sub>**(Within the framework of a telephone interview):**</sub>

<br>


> _ Hi, with whom do I have the taste? <sub>(I spoke)</sub>
_ I am Madame Ágora
_ Cheers!. I speak to you to refer my intention to opt for the job offered...
_ I am greatly urged... <sub>(He replied with a plaintive voice)</sub>
_ Ok, I'll head there right now
_ I'm still tangled !, barely sustained... <sub>(He continued in a tragic tone)</sub>
_ ...?
_ Hurry up, please!...
_ Eeeh!.., Sure, I'm on my way...

#

<center><sub>**-:-**</sub></center>

<br>

I hung up the phone and hurried to get my supplies. I put on the lumbar girdle and the industrial iron-toed boots. At full speed with the wagon in tow. Heading where duty calls me...! I said, not before stopping to think, in the strange voice of Madame...
 
# 

For the first time I was wandering in that rural area. Only guided by intuition and based on the telephone count held with "Madame Ágora", as the only orientation of the site to which I was going. Standing at the turning of an unpaved embankment where the facades closely encircled the steep pedestrian sidewalk, I felt vertigo and an unstable behavior of the ground, as if I had just just shaken. Made of rubble, the long and curvy roadway added subtle decorum to the idyllic landscape, but, sunk in suspicion, I became daunted, dedicated to walking cautiously through the endless block of residential, somewhat destitute, which seemed to be removed from its foundation. For a casual pedestrian, which was my case, it was strange to hang around that pavilion of houses located on a secluded lot of land. Consisting of an orphan elevation, at the foot of a cliff. I was trying to find the address of the fifth house, located in front of the school! Place where I have been cited. I could not deduce where the extension of that Camino Real led, swallowed up by roots and weeds, bushes that prevented me from seeing. In addition, when traveling through the semicurve, it was impossible for me to hit with the view or even try to guess what would be after the blind spot. Some houses had tongue and groove porticoes, bent wooden trunks as crown struts. Cyclone mesh fences decorated with prominent vegetation tilted one third. Others were equally country in design, but with unpruned ornamental ficus and arched Canadian pines delimiting the boundaries, all in frank neglect. Meanwhile, I was still a passerby !, admired by so many ecological sketch of desolate and quiet, placid and indistinct cabins. Surrounded by the prevailing wasteland, as if by coincidence, they had all agreed to go on a trip on that exact day and time. Leaving the village, so alone, like a ghost town in the middle of nowhere.

#

After completing the orbital tour of the block. In avoidance of the visual promontory that accentuated the slope and made it seem that the houses were coming on me. I finally spotted the school! It was my amazement, to see that small module with two rooms with only a main door and a fence made of old shafts, where a tablet with the proclamation hung; "School". An emporium, alone, extremely lonely, just like the rest of the commune. It was a thick frond of white flowers detached from a magnolia grove that fell from the terrace to the walls, filling the surface with petals. Floor covered with flowers, leaving just a little room to see the fertilized earth around. Without distraction and knowing that I have reached my destination !; I was standing for a long time in front of the school door. Breathing the aroma repelled by the flowers and seeing how a small stream flowed from the fountain, in which I sighted a strange statue, tentacular and amorphous, really horrible. Image, which in my mind, made me remember for a moment the bloody effigy of Cthulhu himself. At the right moment when I felt, for the second time, a slight earth tremor, I don't know, if it was the product of my abstraction and rapture. A cramp ran through my body from head to toe, it made me doubt again, it made me reissue my concept about Mrs. Agora and her mysterious job offer. I was tempted to desert !, but after looking around and aware of standing on the crest of a hill, then, I minimized the impression by passing it off as an isolated, fortuitous event, which perhaps was actually a simple work of the imagination.   

#

He had spoken to Madame Agora !, to opt for the "Gardener" contract. And from my experience in this trade, I knew that a royal gardener greatly enjoyed his work. More for being an ecological and conservationist good, than for the lucrative aspect. A gardener couldn't get rich, couldn't a Horticulturist by trade make a fortune by gardening or gathering fruit in bulk. He could not but be happy, a man dedicated to working with flowers, with roots, with leaves of green chlorophyll. However, seeing the area in which I was, surrounded by such exuberant beauty and the purest natural environment. I knew that as well as something beyond pleasant, it would also be demanding continuous work and of abundant benefit.

#

> Suddenly !, I could imagine myself, doing the maintenance of the school areas, collecting bouquets of magnolias for Mrs. Ágora. Branching out the lush bushes of the houses he had previously seen. Pruning the grass San Agustín. Using the scissors to make creative shapes to the ficus, collecting the dried leaves with a shovel and wheelbarrow. Decorating the Canadian pines for Christmas Eve, even why not, waxing the wooden pilasters of a chalet and placing anti-termite additives in the tongue and groove. Of course! getting a hefty pay for all that, which led me to think, I was at the right time and in the right place, to solve my financial problems.

#

Still, standing in front of the school module, watching the water run from the fountain. I was so excited that I had already distributed all the functions in that town. Without first having done the interview, without even having a real idea of ​​the results or the functions conferred. It was thus, that in a hurry, after my mental compendium and my assumptions about the activities to which I could advocate, I turned to the opposite end of the street, where the fifth house owned by Madame Ágora was located. I approached the house! Which, differentiated from the rest, was of a stone design built as a cyclopean screen. Walls composed of black and gray slabs with a vertical woven cut, rough as sandpaper. Walls like an anchor, highly resistant, at the same time, steep. Which bank of a dry river with its bed withered and eroded, leaving nothing but the stones piled up. With just a window in the upper margin and a door that rested ajar on a pile of invasive stubble that prevented the gate from closing.

#

This is how I discovered the enigma of Agora, of which, I now go on to describe in detail, what I saw: 

#

<hr>

<div class="pull-left">

https://media.tenor.com/images/b972e65e473e757a7e41ca6520011a3e/tenor.gif[](https://tenor.com/search/mandrake-gifs)</sub></sub>
</div>

> _They were an overpopulation of exposed roots, coming from some tuber or pulpy body. As a rhizome or bulb, such as ginger, turmeric, or bamboo stem. Very thick, folds, covered by a thin, cream-colored, pearly shell, similar to the skin of common human flesh. Woven into a giant plume, sunken into the ground and protruding at the foot of the cliff. Producing the heather firmly fixed to the bed of the hill, to the rocks, emplacing them and falling to the bottom along with them. With its own movement, that root defined the similar form, with the greatest propensity, to the anthropomorphic feature. They supplied arms and legs, feet, hands and head. With which he oppressed and pulled the hill, shaking the houses and dragging them little by little to the precipice. They seemed quartered beings, blind, armored without eyelids, put in captivity in the place like a group of men who climbed one on the other tried to weave the surface of the earth and remove from its center the plot of land where the town was implanted. Stepping it up and giving it that curvy look. With its nucleus in the garden, they endowed the fifth house with the mood of a maximum security prison, an enclosure for punishment and forced labor. Thus, the walled wall was established at the foot of the sidewalks encompassing the entire perimeter of the ravine and the rooted plume, that great pulp bow that seemed to be alive, converged on a green talking litter, which remained seated next to a telephone, gloomy and worried, sickle and oblique..._

<hr>

#

Carrying my garden tools. Dressed in panties and meat gloves in my hands. I held the scissors, a shovel, and the scrawl wood, standing next to my wheelbarrow. After having witnessed all this, peering through the half-open door, I prepared to retreat and run as soon as possible from the damned shelter of the madam.

<br>

<center><sub>**-:-**</sub></center>

#

<sub>**(I couldn't even take a step, when):**</sub>

#

> _ Please come on! I have already seen you in detail...
_ With permission!, I entered the rayano obeying the command of the voice...
_ Leave your tools! You won't need them...
_ Ok, as I say!

#

<div class="pull-left">

https://pa1.narvii.com/6337/54bd84ad0f11029896df08df8a46f5caaa7e7f7c_hq.gif[](https://aminoapps.com/c/harry-potter-espanol/page/blog/mandragora/BQdG_V7KtwuLrx3bnZgrzm1E5ELqmdPkDW)</sub></sub>
</div>

#

Quickly recognizing the tone of voice! I could tell that it was Madame Ágora. But to tell the truth! I couldn't see her anywhere, I couldn't identify exactly where her voice came from...

#

> _ Take your scissors and go to the cliff! I can no longer bear the weight of this hill...
_ But I do not understand. Where is?. I told...
_ Do not be surprised! Do not despair. I am around you, I am everything you see now... is my body.
_ ...?
_ I am a "Mandrake" and I need to trim some roots that have grown too much. That is why I have hired you! Please, treat me with total delicacy...

#

<center><sub>**-:-**</sub></center>

#

Once again, that cold ran through my body! and I felt the trembling shake the earth again. I felt again that all those houses were falling on me, crushing me without remedy. Pale, wanting to run away, and with the worst job a gardener could have in his entire life. After talking to the specimen. I had no choice but to head to the ravine and carefully cut Madame Ágora's roots, in the best pedicure style...</div>

<br>

<hr><hr>

<br>

<center><sub>**END**</sub></center>

<br>
<br>
<br>
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@curie ·
Congrats on a Curie vote!
Hi nachomolina,
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@nachomolina ·
Thx Friend!
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@nachomolina ·
Ok Thx!
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@hivebuzz ·
You're welcome @nachomolina, nice motivation!<div class="pull-right"><a href="/@hive.engage">![](https://i.imgur.com/XsrNmcl.png)</a></div>
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