At 5 In The Afternoon

For the prompt, “At 5 in the afternoon” from “A Writer’s Book of Days”

It was 4:55 in the afternoon and Federica Garcia Lora stood in the dusty sunlight. Just an hour ago, he had been in his cell, where it was cool and damp. Twenty-four hours ago Lora had fervently written, attempting to finish what would be the last lines of his final poem. It was when the ink was drying that he had been arrested and taken from his friend’s home.

The man standing in the jail’s courtyard was a poet, a composer, a dreamer. The thirty-eight year old resisted entering any part of the Spanish Civil War. Lora found war to be barbaric, as barbaric as Americans living without morals. Living in America for a few years, he had been treated famously and he had earned much money. And Lora had hated every bit of it. The contempt for American ideals and the love for Spanish culture made Lora’s homeland execution ironic.

As the firing squad lined up, Lora’s body shivered in the hot sun. Sweat poured down his face and his hands clenched water. He examined the painted flowers on the high wall of the building next door. He noticed a light breeze and birds softly chirping. He resisted the urge to go mad and plead for his life, to fight –which was wrong! – even for his country.

To free himself from his current situation, Lora threw his mind into one of his beautiful poems. One would think he was full of himself, but he was not. He worked hard to make his poems beautiful. All good poetry was beautiful to Lora.

“La lluvia tiene un vago secreto de ternura, Algo de soñolencia resignada y amable.
Una música humilde se despierta con ella, Que hace vibrar el alma dormida del paisaje…” Lora went over the lines to “Lluvia,” murmuring them aloud. The firing squad cocked their rifles.

Lora’s mind flowed through words and feelings. Images of childhood, of school, of nights in crowded Brooklyn and days spent in Spanish rose gardens floated through his mind. He thought of his madre y padre. He thought of his lovers. He thought of God.

A rush of noise hit him. A feeling of surprise washed over Federico Garcia Lora. His words, his feelings, his life fell silent at 5 in the afternoon.


This story is based on information from: http://www.lorcaspanishschool.com/english/lorca.htm .
The poem excerpt is from the website as well.