Alzheimers in Atacama
Chapter 4 — Outwitting the Guard at the Keep
Chaska uses her beauty and wits to lure the guard away from Allpa's cell. With Allpa's strength and Chaska's cunning, they overpower the guard and escape into the snowstorm.
← Karl Swainston / Alzheimers in Atacama
Chaska knew where her Allpa was being kept, and in the swirls of falling white crystals, she headed toward her love.
A single guard held watch over him. She knew that her parents would soon be upon her, and her last chance would be doomed. With this in mind, she summoned a spirit within herself that was daring and full of stratagem.
The guard sat huddled in the deepening snow, where only the wilds of winter above played any sound. Chaska moved like a changing season toward him—slowly, but with impact. She held back her leg and hunched her right shoulder forward, as if struggling under the duress of her plight.
As she drew closer, the guard roused. He was soon on his feet, his armor brisk and ready to repulse any assault. Chaska drew close, but not too near, and dropped a greater weapon—the only weapon in her possession: her beauty.
Chaska's face showed a soul deep in pain, a soul struggling against the deepest strike of adversity. She lifted her eyes to the guard, who lowered his guard and ran to her aid.
"Come, let me help you, girl. You should not be out on such a night as this."
"Water, please. Give me some water and warmth, as I'm dying."
The guard, not knowing the girl and allowing wicked intentions to rise in his fortunes, seized hold of her and pulled her toward the keep, the very home of her love.
"Come, my girl, in here. I'll give you water and warmth, and more. But let me find the key and unlock this nest of ours, and in a second we'll be there."
Chaska was not listening. She only saw in the keep the eyes of her Allpa, her love, staring out at her from the darkness. He was there, and she was moving toward him.
"One more turn and we'll be inside. Don't worry about the villainous shepherd there; he's a tortured and dead man tomorrow when Kaspi, our Lord, arrives and takes a beautiful girl from the village. Now be careful not to go near him. Move to the left and away from his reach."
Chaska could now see the whites and the large pupils of her love. She still felt the hand of her captor drawing her toward his sinful design, but her reason was swift, and Allpa's intelligence was swifter.
"A few more steps, girl, and we're there, and you can have everything," the guard stammered in anticipation.
It was then he felt his captive fall. Being so blinded by passion, he didn't realize that in his automatic response, he reached back for her and ventured within grasp of Allpa.
Allpa was strong and had no trouble pulling the villain in, squeezing what breath of life the guard still had within him. Chaska reached for the keys, and in a moment, her lover was released.
They wasted no time escaping the fold of their incarceration. They headed with haste for the higher regions of the hills and mountains that surround Atacama's western confines.
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About Karl Swainston
Karl Swainston is a writer and storyteller whose work is forged from a life lived across the North of England and far beyond. Growing up on a Leeds council estate in the 1960s, Karl's journey was anything but linear. By the age of thirty, he had already lived a dozen lives: from the rigors of grammar school to a degree in Latin, a stint as a fishmonger, a period of discovery living in Marseille, and a return to the hustle of London. Whether working as a postman, a builder, or competing as a county-level chess player, he was, above all, an avid reader—constantly documenting the world around him. This restless spirit continued into his professional life. Karl later taught in Bradford, where he ran a specialist unit for 244 of the most excluded students from across the region—young people whom even the local Pupil Referral Units could not accommodate. Working alongside his old friend Malcolm, Karl spent his days navigating the volatility of Bradford's most aggressive and dysfunctional teenagers. Throughout his life, Karl has been an avid runner and has always shared his home with a rotating cast of beloved dogs and cats—companions who have been constant witnesses to his work. As a writer, Karl's range is as expansive as his history. He works across a wide breadth of genres, including fiction and short stories, autobiography and memoir, biography, non-fiction, and metaphysical writing, as well as providing sharp commentary, opinion, analysis, and essays. Whether writing about his years managing the Harrogate Arms or offering insights from his current adopted home in South East India, where he lives in a simple village with his dog, Bambi, Karl's voice reflects the full, untidy, and deeply human breadth of life. He continues to draw on the rich, decades-long tapestry of his experiences to tell stories that matter, proving that no matter where you live, the human story remains the same.
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