Verónika Negrón Velázquez is a latine writer and artist from Puerto Rico. Raised near the beaches of Manatí, became bilingual in Spanish and English at a young age and also gained a passion for books. Literature has been a prominent part of her life, and she began drawing as a teenager. She has always been proud of her mixed heritage as a Boricua and is subtly influenced by it in her work. She has made illustrations for published books before and worked on translations as well. She moved to Cincinnati and is currently studying at the Art Academy of Cincinnati.
Verónika’s work takes philosophical inspiration from the themes of magical realism, where the mundane and ordinary are intermingled with the fantastical or the supernatural and occurs in various both written and visual mediums. She incorporates language and considers how we use words in relation to other languages as well. She also enjoys playing with perception and the value that is given based on appearances. These are often combined with some influence from psychology, and social issues, like gender, disability, neurodivergence, etc. They try to include an interactive element to their work that will elevate an observer’s experience through their participation. These result in creations like a moving sculpture with multilingual inscriptions that one can interact with or a sign that tells multiple perspectives through the use of text and braille that questions how beauty and appearances can misguide our perception.
What is happinness (Que es la felicidad-translation )
What is happiness? Happiness is a non-permanent state of being that people yearn and pursue in an attempt to obtain and preserve it, not realizing that trying to it from leaving only guarantees a longer journey for its return.Where is love?Love is under the blankets and smells of old socks.When is there fear?There’s fear when the door is left open. It looks blurry.What is solitude like?Solitude is like camouflage in an empty room and tastes of milk without chocolate.Where is solitude?Solitude is around your hand and sound like an echo that never ends.Where does death come from?Death comes from the stories from my childhood. It smells like coffee.Happiness for what?For tomorrow to arrive. It feels like a refreshing breeze.Why liberty?Liberty because we need it and we deserve it. It looks like feet with shoes. Where does life go?Life goes on a stroll with the wind. Tastes like hot water.Who is God? Where?God is a fly and is inside a pizza box. Smells like dust.Salvation from what?Salvation from thunder and cursed numbers. Feels like shivers.Which Salvation?Salvation that I lost when I fell asleep during recess. Looks like a blank book.What does beauty know?Beauty knows how to deceive. It tastes like a lemon.
{original}
¿Qué es la Felicidad?
La felicidad es un estado de ser impermanente que la gente anhela y persigue para intentar obtenerlo y guardarlo, sin darse cuenta de que intentar detener su huida solo garantiza un viaje más largo para su regreso.
¿Dónde está el amor?
El amor está debajo de la sabana y huele a medias viejas.
¿Cuándo hay miedo?
Hay miedo cuando la puerta se queda abierta. Se ve borroso.
¿Cómo es la soledad?
La soledad es como camuflaje en un cuarto vacío y sabe a leche sin chocolate.
¿Dónde está la soledad?
La soledad está alrededor de tu mano y suena como un eco que nunca acaba.
¿De dónde viene la muerte?
La muerte viene de las historias de mi niñez. Huele a café.
¿Para qué la Felicidad?
Para que llegue el mañana. Se siente como una brisa refrescante.
¿Libertad por qué?
Libertad porque lo necesitamos y lo merecemos. Se ve como pies con zapatos.
¿Adónde se va la vida?
La vida se va a pasear con el viento. Sabe a agua caliente.
¿Quién es Dios? ¿Dónde esta?
Dios es una mosca y está dentro de una caja de pizza. Huele como polvo.
¿Salvación de qué?
Salvación de truenos y números malvados. Se siente como escalofríos.
¿Cuál Salvación?
La salvación que se me perdió cuando me quede dormida durante el recreo. Se ve como un libro en blanco.
I should’ve realized it was a dream when I saw Jeanie still had braces. She hasn’t had them since she graduated high school. It’s also been a bit since she stopped bleaching and straightening her hair. But I’ve always been weak for her smile, and when she caught sight of me, I got swept up in our usual excitement. We went into the mall, and she rambled on and on about the usual drama she got up to every time she stayed with at her grandparents’ place. Just as she finished telling about a kid who got stuck in a well, we reached the food court, where Max and Michael where sitting at a table eating tacos with ice cream. Despite the odd combination, the real clue was in the fact that Max was a vegetarian, and Michael was allergic to milk products. But once again, my attention was stolen by their joyful expressions, once they noticed us. They almost leapt off their seats to embrace us, Michael even accidentally knocking his own glasses off.
Now together as a group, we wandered the stores, most of which were actually closed in real life. Max as usual took the lead, spending their sweet time looking at makeup and accessories. We all had different styles, but they managed to find something special for each of us. They were even the one who helped Michael choose his name. Michael was also Max’s guineapig. By the end of the day, his arms would be a rainbow of swatches and his nose would be burning from all the perfumes he’d smell. Today all the perfumes smelled the same though. They smelled like dog breath, which prompted us to quickly leave, but apparently not enough for me to wake up and kick my dog off my bed.
At sundown, the time arrived to watch a movie. Jeanie had personally selected it. Her passion for film enhanced the watching experience. This movie was not a movie though, it was a tv show. And actually it was a play. I didn’t notice, or maybe just didn’t care. Jeanie and Michael joked throughout the whole thing, and in our fun barely even restrained ourselves from being nosy and laughing out loud. Eventually, the lights turned on for intermission. The three of them went out to get food and the restroom, and I was left by myself. Suddenly, I noticed the theater was packed. I became very anxious, and worried about being seen, although I didn’t know why. When the lights dimmed down once again, my fear rose, as I imagined that in the darkness I somehow stood out more. Before I started to panic, Jeanie came back, and with her presence soon calmed down. Max and Michael also returned, and suddenly the atmosphere lifted once more, as if they had never left in the first place.
Finally, after the play, the day was ending and we’d soon have to part ways. We’d still see each other often, but it was never enough for me. We used to see each other every day, back when we would to study together, and even though we had more freedom now, I would always miss those days where we didn’t even have to try to hang out together. Max of course decided we should complete the day by making a photographic record of it. Meaning, we stuffed ourselves into a photobooth, and tried our best to fit everyone in the pictures. While we smiled and tried to figure out the machine, most of the photos came out blurred, or cutting someone out, but at the end we still got one good one. Right then, when I was looking at the picture I saw the final sign that alerted me to the fact I was in a dream. When I looked in the picture, I realized I wasn’t wearing any clothes. I’d been naked this whole time and didn’t even know! And then I finally figured it out, and soon woke up.
I knew the time was coming for the final draft for the story when the side characters started getting names. The chaos of the first draft was long gone from the bulletin board I was using to brainstorm, plan out, and the story overall. It was now much more organized; I had even chosen what language to write it in.
Everything had its purpose and its respective label. It had taken a long time to see it grow and change, become more complex, then simplified, then complex again. The theme stayed mostly the same from the beginning, but the tone was in constant flux throughout the years. It started off as lighthearted, then took an unexpected turn towards a dark depressing tragedy, before shifting into honest bittersweetness.
Many characters had also been scrapped, while others had gone through a stunning puberty that had left them unrecognizable from their original concepts. For example, two gods that had once been a beacon of wisdom and kindness for the protagonist, had become a fallen deity that had sunken into shame after one of the halves disappears, so the protagonist must overcome the loss while at the same time having to appease the one left to be able to continue the journey. The names that came to me were Mawdrei and Pawdrei.
But now I was trying to figure out the protagonist. They would have to be a hero, but she was also very physically weak, so what would be their strength? I thought for a long time it would be intelligence, then I realized I wasn't smart enough for that through a fair share of humbling experiences. I thought creativity could be it, but when the darker tone arrived it was going to be resilience against a world that was against him, as they were greeted with tragedy after tragedy. I couldn't decide on the appearance either. Nothing felt practical enough or with real purpose. I couldn't decide what my motive would be. I had a whole journey planned out for the protagonist but couldn’t come up with a real reason to go through it. I realized I didn't know the main character at all. I had figured out the whole world around them, even names for every other character that interacted with the protagonist. I didn't know what was wrong with me.
I couldn’t disappoint my dad. He had allowed playing around with the bulletin board in my youth, but now it needed a purpose, or he would throw it away. My dad thought it distracted me and that I should focus on what my major was going to be. I hadn’t figured out what I wanted with my life yet, so the only way to convince them to keep it was if I came up with a good draft. I couldn’t write a draft if I didn’t know the main character. They didn’t even have a name. What’s their name? I stared at their yellow sticky note on the board that hung on the yellow wall. What’s my name?
Grá was desperate. The sickness that had spread through the village was worsening daily. The rumors of it being a curse turned into a conspiracy; and surely, if it was a curse then as the only witch in town, she must have been the one responsible. It did not help that the witch could not cure it. Any potions or magical spells she attempted only worsened the condition of the afflicted, as did their wariness towards her. “Must be a trick from the witch”, the people speculated. As time went on, Grá had very few options left; It would not be long before a mob was formed.
Prior to the appearance of the sickness, there was a doctor that had taken care of the townsfolk and was in turn beloved by them. “No one else could be better suited,” was what the witch thought. He was very smart and had intimate knowledge on the particulars of everyone in towns health, and in turn the people cherished his time and presence; he was the only friend of the witch. The main issue was the doctor had died not too long ago, before anyone had even shown any symptoms.
Grá was a nature witch and had vast knowledge of plants and animals; she could make a seed sprout in the blink of an eye, which flower would cure a headache, and which ones made dangerous mixtures. But the townsfolk avoided her at all costs and blamed her for everything from bad harvests to bad hair days. She would rarely visit the town, but when she did, she always brought remedies and charms to help anyone in her way. Unlike the animals that would accept her healing hands, the people would reject her with disdain. “You can’t tempt me with your sullied concoctions. We won’t have to sink to your lows, the doctor will take care of us”
Since the death of the doctor, the people of the town had become fatigued. Work became increasingly difficult. People also had heart palpitations. Many became bedridden. The town became desolate and miserable. In a short amount of time the town had stopped their daily bustle to be quiet except for small groans and sobs of the sick. Many understood their time would also come soon.
The witch had a plan. With her magic, the witch would attempt to bring him back to life. The witch had little experience with necromancy, had basically never casted a spell of its type before. After consulting her books, she realized she did not even have the necessary materials. The townsfolk would not sell to her, much less let her borrow. She would have to gather them herself.
As the witch searched for the necessary ingredients and objects, she stayed on paths that were old and were not used by most people. Bumpy from overgrown tree roots, bricks that had lots of weeds in between the many cracks. The doctor enjoyed these paths a lot when he was alive. She had not walked through them in a while since he was gone. There were many things that she had stopped or avoided doing. She had not met with most of the animals that had gotten used to her gifts. Some of her personal plants needed weeding.
Finally she returned home as the sun set and prepared a potion with the instructions on her book. She struggled to read the faded ink and pages that had missing pieces, but still did her best to use the knowledge she already did to fill in the blanks where she could. In a bag she put the potion and some additional materials and headed off. It was now nighttime which was perfect to remain unseen while she infiltrated the towns graveyard.
Even though she had not visited often, she remembered where the doctors grave was. After digging, she stood over him. No words were needed, the potion required her to drink it while touching his chest, over the heart. The risk of bringing life is offering yours in return.
A mumble was heard. The body was not yet corrupted by death, and the chest moved as if he was breathing again, but her hand had turned necrotic black. The doctor was alive, or was it just reanimated? Is he the same, different, how? “Grá… why?” Unbeknownst to her, tears had filled her face. “Doctor, the town needs you.”
The witch and the doctor went back to the town. The witch explained the situation quickly while on the way but soon transitioned into regular conversation. Reminiscing on their shared history while helping adjust to the change. The Doctor did not seem amazed by the witch’s feat, he was more astonished by her willingness to help others. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of the many times they’ve hurt you in the past. The townspeople have never been kind to you, so why help them?” said the Doctor. “It’s not as simple as it being a principle but helping everybody is a choice I made long ago. In my deep connection to nature one of the most universal experiences is the struggle to not just survive but to thrive. I help them because they need help, even if, like a wounded animal, they bite back when you attempt it.” Grá responded.
After the doctor returned, the town started getting better almost immediately. The doctor paid visit to every single sick person, and just by being present, the energy returned to the patients. Just with a small conversation, mentioning how much they have been him and after a quick consultation, everyone was quick to get back on their feet.
Very little gratitude or thanks was offered to the witch but roaming around the town became a lot less hostile. Her routine of offering help continued, but now people were more willing to accept it on the rare occasion. She could no longer use her necrotic hand, and people began to offer help to her in turn.
As time passed, her hand began to heal just as the doctor began to decompose. It was not totally unexpected. Necromancy was not the witch’s specialty. From what they could tell it would continue and get worse. This prompted the Doctor to say his goodbyes, and to reveal to the witch his secret,” This sickness is indeed a curse; however, it is a curse of my own doing. Long ago in my youth I wanted to be part of the town but since I was a witch, I feared their rejection. I cast a spell that would make their lives depend on their love for me. I introduced myself as a doctor and became beloved by all. I didn’t expect that my death would corrupt in this way.”
Because of the farewells, the townspeople knew that the Doctor would be gone again, and individually decided to go to the witch’s house. Inside the doctor said his final farewell to Grá. With the towns people waiting outside, holding torches against the dark, he died once more. The witch stepped outside, holding back tears through a pained expression she announced his passing. Quiet stayed for a moment. It quickly broke as the witch started crying, and immediately the town cried with her. Her tears melded with those of the towns people. They united in healing as the witch’s hand became like normal again and the townspeople no longer sick, they were finally free. The curse was broken.
