A Saturday Night Tale.

I was sitting there, in one of those huge train stations, waiting for a train that never came. It was a crowded Saturday night, and people were rushing to catch the last trains back home, with alcohol keeping them red faced and happy while the children nagging and crying.

Police, with shining green uniforms, was waiting for the football fans. The train from the stadium arrived with a noise, and screams of excited drunk fans kicking eachother. A woman with cleaning staff uniform was constantly and excitedly looking at the rush of police forces, with their horrifying dogs, at the drunk fans. I walked to the schedule board nervously, checking to find out if there would be a train to Colmenar.

hmm..., no train. Thinking what to do and I could see in the distance the police forces were following three of them out of the platforms. and the dogs barking sound filled everywhere. Ignore the fucking horrible sound, I told myself.

I thought I would go and call a friend to stay the night in Madrid. I could still hear screams from the main building. The cleaning woman went in the train and we said Adios with a facial gesture.I left afterward.

Then it was the scene, the young boy lying on the ground unconscious, three dogs rounding him and barking...police keeping the audience away and other two didn´t know what to do, shocked and just shocked, they were aimlessly running around, crying, shouting at the frozen faces of the police, and hitting their head to the ticket office wall. And crying, and crying, and crying. The body was still there, still and motionless.

Frozen, as if they killed an ant...Frozen, but I could hear how we, all participants on the stage, were cracked.