Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!

Mi first history in english.

Hi, guys and girls who dare read my story! Now I'm in the company of the charming Edmund Dantes, yes, the handsome and charismatic Count of Monte Cristo. As I said in my profile, I love to read, and writing is my passion; this book is my favorite: so human, so 'alive', and I'm surprised to see there are not too much fics about it. So, I decided to put this one, and I hope someone reads it.

Before starting with the story, I'd like to write a small introduction: We are humans, we make mistakes, we suffer and we rejoice; we are fragile and clumsy, but that is what makes our race more valuable… and also more dangerous. We're excessively selfish creatures, and we crave for company –sometimes- without noticing the consequences of our acts. In this story, I want to show this feeling as it is. And show one of the biggest fears we can experience: the fear of being alone, it's one of the most painful feelings we can feel. This book is my favorite because it finds humanity and the purest love among the most terrible action: the most sublime revenge, in which one can find justice but also a lot of pain.

Why someone who feared to be alone, and acted due to that fear, must be condemned to suffer it after believing happiness was returning to her? Why should she be forgotten by the one who took her life away and gave it back, the one who occupies the place of providence and who swore loving her even despite of time?

This is the story of the Count of Montecristo and his dear friend, because we all DESERVE A SECOND CHANCE


Back to Marseille, back to you

Chapter 1

The raindrops hit my window, and its sound mixes with the cries in this room. This pain… when did this pain was born?

I open my eyes and, in the darkness, I can see the shoes I'm wearing; my body is numb after hours of being in the same position, and in my forehead the shape of my hands can be seen, still clutching my temples.

How long had I been here? How long I've been crying in the dark? I'm not sure if it's been minutes, days or even months; but I know the suffering is strong, and that I'm capable of staying like this longer than necessary.

Why am I suffering? The reason is still hard to accept. My beloved Haydée lays asleep in that cemetery. Ah, my poor dear! Victim of tuberculosis, now your body is dead!

I hide my face in my hands while new tears come to my eyes, I repeat her name as I've done for some time, trying to find something to calm me down among my pain, my loneliness.

A knock in my door releases me briefly from my reverie; they must be worried outside. I hear the whispers of my servants, my loyal and dear friends who had not abandoned their lord in this madness and loss. Oh, good Bertuccio, Bautiste and Ali! Now, not even their presence eases my pain; is better for them to leave me, to let me suffer in a sleepless dream.

The steps outside are moving away, they understand I whish to be alone and that I don't want to go out; my body is tired, and my soul broken. But its not the pain of hunger or loss what makes me cry now, but the fear.

My body trembles thinking about what is yet to come; I feel terrified knowing I'm alone, seeing in my future the dark and cold loneliness, the same that welcomes you in the cell of a prison.

God, why do you make me suffer like this?

To me, the one you condemned to that cruel castle at the innocent age of 19, and then gave me the joy of taking the place of providence: to reward the innocents and punish the evil!

Now you make me pay for being a vengeful god, and my fees are full with pain.

I'm alone, alone again in this cruel and senseless world! I feel I'm going crazy, I hadn't felt this fear before, and I'm sure death would be sweet on my lips, like sweet nectar to ease my despair! I bury my fingers in my long dark hair, while I start to cry like a little child.

"Haydée… Haydée…" I hear my own voice but I don't recognize it, it's a ghostly echo which repeats her name over and over again; a flash of lightning illuminates my room, while in my dream I whisper a name that I never thought I'd say again.


I rise my head slowly, changing my position for the first time in a long time. In front of me, sitting in the bed, he watches me from the full-body mirror: my reflection. I look at my dark eyes, wide open looking at me with surprise; a new flash of lightning illuminates the earth, and my lips open to let it out without doubts.


My hands fall lifeless while I stand up, impressed at what I've seen; my body hurts for the sudden change, my legs go numb for an instant; I walk doubtfully towards that soft illusion, I stretch my hand to let my fingers touch the cold mirror.

I look at my features in that darkness, I watch them clearly with each flash of lightning brought by the rain. My body, my face, everything in me has changed without being different, this Count of Montecristo is no longer the same… Edmund Dantes is back!

"Mercedes…" my lips whisper again, and for a moment the pain disappears. God, so much peace and sanity that name brings!

Why now? I think while walking in the room, why her?

I stop in front of the window that gladly receives the raindrops, and I let myself wonder inside my mind, with no need to surrender to the pain.

Its been a year already since I left Paris, since I came to the Orient to forget my past along with Haydée, after achieving my vengeance against those sinners, and after leaving in Marseille to the one I once loved. Now her name returns to me, filling my spirit with peace, but… why?

I close my eyes and I can't understand this feeling, I watch it as if in a dream; I still see her when, as children, we dreamed with building a home in our loved mother country; I remember her laughs, and her adorable blushes; when I arrived from my expeditions in The Faraon and she ran towards me to welcome me… and the last time I saw her when, after abandoning her home and her wealth as Countess of Morcef, went to live where she'd lived her youth, completely alone and crying the loss of her son, in that room that I once called home.

My dear friend! Why do I remember you within this torment? Why do I feel the desire of going with you and share my pain? Why do I know that you can understand me?

The soft advance of a memory comes to me, and I heard clearly the tone of her voice, her words distorted by weeping; I watch her kneeled in front of me, begging me for her son's life while burying her face in her hands.

In that moment I felt revulsion for that beautiful young man, product of the marriage between my beloved and that cursed Fernand; I feel hate when I see her arrive to beg for their lives. However, what I felt the most was pain; my heart and soul filled with that sensation when she, at my feet, blamed herself for what had happened.

Oh, my friend! I never blamed you for that, neither did I hate you, but I don't deny that my hear broke in thousand pieces when I knew you didn't wait for me, that when I was gone you accepted that catalan's hand and, with him, you formed what we'd planned for years.

Sweet, innocent soul! I've always wished to know why, even when you said you loved me, that you'll wait for me eternally, you never fulfilled your promise.

Now I think of you, in the moment I see my happiness destroyed! Even if I won't deny that during this long year my mind sometimes was directed towards you, knowing that I still couldn't find and answer for your acts.

I turn around and walk in silence inside the room which has been witness of my pain, but the sound of her cries comes to me in a new memory…

"Ah, what a terrible vengeance, for a crime that fatality made me commit! Because it is I who is guilty, Edmund…" she says while she watches me with her dark eyes filled with tears. "… and if you wanted revenge it should have fell upon me, because I had not the strength to resist your absence and the loneliness"

Loneliness… loneliness… LONELINESS

That word repeats itself over and over in my mind, while my chest collapses in pain; the fear takes over me again and I feel like falling, but I slowly walk again towards that mirror in the wall. I caress my reflection and my lips tremble when I speak.

"You felt afraid…" I whisper, while in my mind her face stained with tears appears again, "… the same fear I feel now when I see myself alone"

I need to say it out loud, to explain it carefully; now I remember that I felt this fear in that dark room of the Chateau D'If, that my mind blocked every kind of light, drowning even more in darkness, and the only solution that I saw for that horror was… death.

I open my eyes, and my gestures fill with panic: I've condemned her at hell itself, I've made her wish death!

Oh, Mercedes… I've abandoned you, I've left you when I couldn't see your biggest fear! Why couldn't I see it before? The revenge, the hate blinded me, and I couldn't see the real damage I caused you… now I understand that we both suffered for my acts, but only I ended satisfied and found happiness alongside Haydée, but… you? What has been of you, my love? Perhaps… it is too late?

The panic takes over again, I ran to the door and open it quickly calling my servants; in my mind I repeat over and over again the punishment that I, as executioner, gave to that poor woman. To my beloved friend!

"Bautiste, Bertuccio… ALI!" I scream while I hear people approaching. Their voices come to me, surprised at seeing me going out of the room.

"My lord, oh, how joyfull!" exclaims a young man with wise stare that has been under my service since I came to the Orient. "You finally have gone out of your room! It's…"

"Not now!" I interrupt him and, staring at my most loyal friends, I say, "Bertuccio, Baptiste, prepare my ship!"

The looks they give me are full of surprise and confusion, but they nod and start to work, they go away and I search among the faces surrounding me until I found the one I'm looking for.

"Ali, prepare the luggage!" I say while watching the Arabic man, and then I look at the brown-eyes boy that I'd interrupted moments before.

"Where are you going, master?" he asks me with shaking voice, confused. My heart beats painfully when I answer.

"To Marseille!"


The sun comes out in the horizont greeting Marseille, the stores open in the little streets and the sounds of the people flood the environment; so simple and yet, beautiful.

Slowly, the light enters in the room, entering shyly through the window to be received by the dark eyes of a beautiful woman who, as everyday, watches the sky from her house.

Long sighs come out of her lips, and as always the tears come to her face without warning. Leaning her body in the frame of the window, she receives a nice breeze with the smell of the sea and, opening her mouth slowly, she calls the one she loved, loves and will love until the end of her days.

"Edmund" she whispers, while a smile full of sadness illuminates her face. Thank God, there was not much time left to keep pronouncing that name!

With deliberate calm, she turned around and, putting a short coat over her shoulders, she went out to walk and think again the plan she'd created.

Mercedes Herrera was born in Marseille and there would she die, even if she had to cause it!


Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!