Femme Fatale

Fotografía: Elena del Rivero Fernández Modelos: María Prendes

Fotografía/Photograph: Elena del Rivero Fernández
Actores/ Actors: María Prendes, Gonzalo Para.
Maquillaje y peluquería/ Make-up and hairdressing: Gonzalo Para. Agradecimientos / Special thanks to : Nicolás Bustos

Amartillé el arma como él me había enseñado y apunté.

– No lo hagas, preciosa.

Rick era un buen hombre, pero no había nacido para esa ciudad. Lo sé porque yo era mala, y a veces me dolía vivir allí. Él quería ser el salvador de los débiles, y todas las noches se vestía la gabardina, se calaba el sombrero y salía a la calle a buscarse problemas. Sigue leyendo

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Femme Fatale

Fotografía/Photograph: Elena del Rivero Actores/ Actors: María Prendes, Gonzalo Para. Agradecimientos / Special thanks to : Nicolás

Fotografía/Photograph: Elena del Rivero Fernández
Actores/ Actors: María Prendes, Gonzalo Para.
Maquillaje y peluquería/ Make-up and hairdressing: Gonzalo Para. Agradecimientos / Special thanks to : Nicolás Bustos

I cocked the rifle as he had shown me and aimed.

Don’t do it, sugar.”

Rick was a good guy, but he wasn’t born for the city. I knew since I was bad and sometimes it even hurt me to live there. He wanted to save the weak and every night he would put on his mac , grab his hat and go out into the streets looking for problems. Sigue leyendo

Femme Fatale (Trailer)

Femme Fatale. El amor lo carga el diablo.

El trailer del nuevo relato que saldrá en el blog “Más cuento que vergüenza” el día 12 https://mascuentoqueverguenza.wordpress.com

Femme Fatale. The devil runs love.

The trailer from the short story that will be released in the blog The Fearless Storyteller next day 12 https://mascuentoqueverguenza.wordpress.com

Guión/ Script: María Entrialgo
Elena del Rivero
Lara del Rivero.
Dirección y edición/ Directed and edited:
Elena del Rivero
Reparto/Cast: Isaac del Rivero
María Entrialgo

My pleasure

 

Collage by Lara del Rivero

Collage by Lara del Rivero

He could see the whole city from the roof terrace. The wind swept away the pollution and noise, and it was just the two of them up there: his cigarette smoke and him. He liked going up there to relax. He took a look at his hands, in pain, and saw a small drop of blood on his shirt. Right away he tried to hide it, as if somebody up there would see and ask questions. It was an occupational hazard.

He inhaled the smoke and remembered he didn’t like smoking. He had taken it up as an excuse to go upstairs. Alone, without a single voice within earshot, for a few minutes he could be what he wanted even though he was still the same person.

Sigue leyendo