Member-only story
Fiction
The Misadventures of George Nichols: Witness to a Double Murder in El Salvador
A Historical Fiction
Remembering El Salvador
The American Airlines flight I am in banks to the right. I can see the San Salvador city lights far into the horizon. As the plane begins its descend it goes into a roller-coaster-like ride. We go high into the clouds; it then comes dangerously close to the ground. It climbs back up again.
Suddenly, I can see the ground coming up towards me. Tthis time the pilot cannot recover and the plane crashes. I walk out of the plane and stroll along a road with fields of flowers to the left and right. I look ahead, and I see Ricardo Solé Salaverria, the young director of Las Tiendas Mabellas walking towards me. He greets me with a handshake and tells me he is going to drive me to my hotel.
With my heart pounding and completely soaked in sweat, I wake up. I sit up in bed thinking about all the times I flew to this city, the capital of El Salvador. A small Central American country the size of New Jersey, with barely 6 million inhabitants that has suffered through a civil war and torn by constant political violence.
Knowing my attempt to go back to sleep would be futile, I get up, put on a pair of shorts, step…
