byJ.C.White
A fun piece of flash fiction I wrote while in Spain, inspired while standing in front of a monument for Miguel de Cervantes, the author of Don Quixote. I wanted to write something original but inspired from Don Quixote, just for fun, and using a nom de plume pseudonym of my own name for the main character, only a Spanish version.
They said the plains of Castile were haunted by both ghosts and memories, dry and relentless as the wind that skinned the wheat to its tiny boned carcasses.
At dusk, when the church bells tolled from the hilltop of Toboso, the air itself turned sepia and alive. A lone rider often passed through, his horse ribbed and reluctant, the kind that seemed imagined from yellowing parchment and a tourists fatigue. He called himself Juan Christoforo de la Blanco, though none could recall him among the living of the village.
They said he was the last descendant of a mad Hidalgo who once charged the windmills of La Mancha, and that he, too, had mistaken them for giants. But this one did not tilt at them, he listened.
Each night he dismounted by the ruins of a centuries old monastery turned hotel, where monks once copied the saints’ torments by candlelight. He pressed his ear against the crumbling stone and swore he heard quills scratching beneath the earth, writing still. “The story; it is not finished,” he’d whisper. “The knight, he rides on.”
The villagers locked their shutters when the red moon rose, for that was when the sound of pages turning passed through the valley like a ravenous buzzard’s wings. Children dreamed of pale horses cantering through the dust, and old widows criss-crossed themselves, whispering that Cervantes’ ink had never dried, it had simply drowned the Spanish soil under its weight.
One morning, a shepherd found a book lying open in the grass, its words shifting and erasing like smoke. The first line read: “In a forgotten corner of La Mancha, whose name I do not wish to remember, a man became the phantom of his own story.”
When he looked up, he saw the rider on the horizon, coat dark as crows, lance splintered, face alight with the gentle lunacy of belief. Then the wind rose, scattering the pages like little white birds, and when they fell, they were blank.
The shepherd swore he heard a voice echo across the plain:
“Not all madness is lost nor useless. Some becomes legend.”
And the bells of Toboso tolled once more, though no hand touched them.
Ramblings & Revelations 
Responses
I love it! I’ve never read Don Quixote–its on my To-be-read list–but the eeriness and vast interpretations you have set up are amazing. It slightly reminds me of Edgar Allen Poe’s eerie writing…So good!!
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Thank you Traevor. What a kind review!
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Such a fun, otherworldly little story. Love it, especially “Not all madness is lost nor useless. Some becomes legend.”
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Thank you Diana. Glad you enjoyed it.
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A wonderfully imaginative and atmospheric tribute to Cervantes—rich in mood, mystery, and literary charm. Your flash fiction beautifully blends homage with originality, capturing the spirit of La Mancha while creating a legend of its own. Truly captivating!”
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Thank you for such a generous review!
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Not all madness is lost nor useless. Some become legend (Diana beat me to it). Our day will come. :-)
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Thank you my friend. Headed to Portugal on Monday. Wonder what I’ll come across to inspire me there? Couldn’t resist scratching out a Cervantes story from Madrid. Any ideas?
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For Portugal, is there a story here: For Portugal, is there a story here: Portugal is the oldest country in Europe with the same borders, it is the world’s largest producer of cork, and its capital, Lisbon, is older than Rome. It was the first European maritime power, established the first global empire, and has the world’s oldest continuously operating bookstore, Bertrand. Additionally, the largest wave ever surfed was in Nazaré, and the country is home to Europe’s longest pedestrian suspension bridge.
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Excellent information Warren. That’s far more interesting than having the biggest ball of yarn. The last time we were in Portugal was 2021 and we only visited the southern areas, Lisbon, Evora, Sintra, Cascais… This time we’ll be in the north, flying into Porto and touring the northern areas, just as we just recently visited northern Spain.
But I can begin with some Warren trivia to impress my traveling companions. My sister and a friend are traveling with my wife and I. Should be fun. Happy Thanksgiving my friend.
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Have a glass of port on me. Maybe you’ll even find an American Thanksgiving party.
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Portuguese turkey and dressing…
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Loved your writing style and the marriage of an old story with your own interpretation!
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Thank you very much. I really appreciate you sharing your thoughts.
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Brilliant writing Chris.
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Thank you Violet!
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I loved it!
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Thank you so much.
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Bien hecho Christoforo de la Blanco!
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Thank you Cynthia.
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nice information
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Great 👍
The Fab Four of Cley
:-) :-) :-) :-)
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Thank you!
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So beautiful and mystical. Recalls a poem I loved throughout my life by Edgar Allan Poe, called “El Dorado.” “Gaily Bedight. A gallant knight…
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Thank you Kathy. I’ll have to crack open my Poe to see if I have that one. Love me some Poe.
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I’ll save you the trouble…
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48634/eldorado-56d22a0920778
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Oh yes, that’s gorgeous writing. Thanks for sharing.
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q bonito
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Thank you my friend.
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Good read
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Thank you!
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