staristawrites

[staristawrites]

Videogame - “Drawing Memories” 1st lvl Linear Narrative and Dialogues

Level 1: Tree Village

Scene 1: The Artist’s Egg-Shaped Workshop

(The camera pans to an egg-shaped spaceship floating in space. Inside, the Artist is sitting on a cozy chair, stroking her cat with a bored expression. The room is cluttered with art supplies and half-finished sketches. Suddenly, the computer beeps loudly, interrupting the quiet.)

Computer:

"Beeeeep! Incoming message."

(The Artist perks up, and the cat, startled by the sound, leaps out of her lap and flies across the room. She leans forward to check the computer screen.)

Narrator's Message:

"Greetings, Artist. I urgently require your professional expertise for a special mission. This is a matter of capturing memories before they vanish forever."

(The Artist grins and clicks the "Accept Mission" button with enthusiasm. The camera zooms out as the spaceship begins to move, gliding through the cosmos toward the destination.)

Scene 2: The Narrator’s Welcome

(The spaceship slows down as it approaches a glowing planet surrounded by faint rings of debris. The Narrator appears on screen, talking to us, the player)

Narrator:

"Ah, splendid! Thank you for accepting this mission, Artist. Together, we will visit Planet O—a world that recently exploded from within and is now on the brink of complete destruction. The remnants of its beauty are fading fast, but there is still a chance to remember what it once was. Welcome to Planet O… or what’s left of it."

(He pauses, as if reflecting on the enormity of the task.)

"My aim is not perfection. I don’t expect absolute accuracy. What truly matters is capturing the essence of each place. That will be enough to preserve its soul in our illustrated book."

(The screen shifts to a map of Planet O, with different areas marked by colorful icons. Most of them are greyed out except for one—a small village nestled among trees.)

Scene 3: The Map

Narrator:

"It appears our options are limited for now. The only place we can land is the Tree Village. A fitting start, don’t you think? This village was once a masterpiece of harmony between nature and magic. Let’s see what remains."

*(The Player selects the location, and the spaceship begins its descent toward the village.)

Scene 4: Style Selection

(Now we see inside the spaceship, with different drawings and styles, some art tools and lots of papers around.)

Narrator:

"Before we begin, you’ll need to decide how you want to portray this place. Think about its personality—the way it balanced magic and nature. Do you want to represent it as a sketch? Perhaps an oil painting... watercolors, or something crazier?"

(The Player selects a style, and the screen transitions to the gameplay phase.)

Scene 5: Gameplay

(The Player clicks and drags to construct a 2D representation of the village, placing buildings and embellishing the scene with details inspired by its former glory. The Narrator occasionally comments, offering gentle encouragement.)

Narrator:

"Those lantern-flowers were the villagers’ pride and joy. And honestly, they outshone my old holiday decorations by miles. Fantastic placement!"

"Ah, the mushroom roofs. A whimsical touch that says, ‘We’re practical and fabulous.’ You’ve captured it perfectly!"

Scene 6: Conclusion

(The Artist finishes her work and clicks the "Complete" button. The completed painting is displayed, vibrant and full of life despite the devastation around it. The Narrator appears again, his expression a mix of joy and sorrow.)

Narrator:

"Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent! You’ve captured the Tree Village’s soul so beautifully that I almost feel like I’m there again… except, you know, without the itchy pollen. What a triumph!"

(He pauses, his tone shifting to something softer.)

Narrator:

"It’s bittersweet, though, isn’t it? To see what was lost and know it can never truly return. But you’ve brought hope to this shattered world, Artist. And for that, I thank you."

(The painting is added to the illustrated book, complete with notes about the village’s key features. The screen fades out as the spaceship prepares to lift off for the next destination.)

[staristawrites]

Videogame - “Pachamama” Character Descriptions

These are the characters for the 1st scene of Pachamama, a farming latinamerican game set in a post-apocalyptic world

The Children

Description: The children embody unfiltered curiosity and imagination, even in the face of a broken world. They remember fragments of the vibrant, lively world from before—a nice village, clean skies, and the joy of playing freely—and their memories often blend with playful fantasies.

Lore: Having been born into a golden age, the children grew up surrounded by nature’s wonders and thriving communities. They’ve only just woken to find this paradise reduced to decay and struggle to grasp what went wrong. However, they see opportunities in the wasteland, turning challenges into games and finding beauty where others see only ruin. They also want to be the MC, so they are a source of inspiration and, above all, motivation.

Key Traits: Innocent, imaginative, adaptable. Their dialogue is a mix of nostalgic wonder for the past and creative ways of interpreting the present.

Key Traits: Resilient, visionary, nurturing. Her dialogue often contrasts the warmth of the past with her hopes for the future.

The Serious Man

Description: The serious man is pragmatic and focused, driven by a strong sense of responsibility. He remembers the orderly, efficient systems of the old world and carries the weight of knowing they failed. His stoic demeanor hides a profound longing for the stability they lost.

Lore: As an engineer in the prosperous era, he contributed to the infrastructure that supported a thriving civilization. Though he was proud of his work, he recognized its environmental impact and now sees the remnants of a world they overbuilt and exhausted. His purpose is clear: to rebuild without repeating those mistakes.

Key Traits: Logical, responsible, deeply reflective. His dialogue balances strategic thinking with subtle emotional undertones.

The Elderly Man

The Elderly Man

Description: Contrary to expectations, the elderly man is far from wise and solemn—he’s irreverent, cheeky, and bursting with misplaced energy in the post-apocalyptic world. Instead of lamenting the state of things, he claims it’s rejuvenated him, often boasting that he feels “20 years younger.” His humor is unpredictable, mixing nonsensical remarks with bold declarations, making him a wild card in the group.

Lore: Back in the peaceful world, he was a reserved, solitary figure who sold odds and ends from his home to make ends meet. His days were quiet and uneventful, and he often described himself as “old and waiting for the inevitable.” However, after waking up in the ruins, he’s found a new lease on life, claiming that the chaotic world suits him better. He refuses to take anything seriously, much to the frustration—and amusement—of those around him.

Key Traits: Playful, unpredictable, eccentric. His dialogue is full of humorous exaggerations, complaints disguised as jokes, and absurd takes on the situations they face.

The Adult Group

Description: The adults are a diverse group that reflects the collective spirit of humanity. Each person struggles to balance their vivid memories of a better world with the stark reality of their situation, yet their shared determination to protect the children keeps them moving forward.

Lore: Once neighbors in a thriving community, the adults carry the weight of having seen the height of civilization and its subsequent downfall. They remember bustling celebrations, bountiful harvests, and shared laughter. Their stories and skills are pieces of the puzzle needed to rebuild.

Key Traits: Cooperative, resourceful, protective. Their dialogue often mixes practical advice with glimpses of their lives before the collapse.

The Young Woman

Description: The young woman is Ooo’s younger sister, full of determination and deeply connected to the land. Her expertise in agriculture and garden design makes her an invaluable figure in the group. Despite being younger, she often acts as the stabilizing force, combining her practical skills with an optimism that inspires others.

Lore: Having grown up in a thriving, fertile world alongside her older brother, Ooo, the young woman has always had an affinity for nature and farming. As the youngest in her family, she often followed Ooo around, learning about ruins and natural phenomena from his explorations while teaching him how to care for plants. Though the devastation of the world hit them both hard, she sees the challenge as an opportunity to reconnect humanity with the earth and heal its wounds—starting with helping her brother out of his predicament.

Key Traits: Hopeful, practical, nurturing. Her dialogue reflects her love for farming and her determination to find ways to restore life, as well as her bond with Ooo and their shared memories of the past.

Ooo

Description: Ooo is a curious and thoughtful man who awakens trapped under the remnants of a glowing, ancient door. Though sarcastic and humorous, his experiences during the collapse have left him reflective and deeply connected to the mysteries of the earth. His bond with his older sister drives his motivation to uncover the truth behind the door and its purpose.

Lore: Ooo has always been fascinated by the mechanics of nature and the structures that connect it to human life. Before the collapse, he explored ruins and old texts, seeking to understand their significance. The glowing passage discovered during his rescue seems to resonate with the earth's voice—a force he feels has chosen him as its messenger. The relationship with his sister becomes a source of strength as they journey to uncover what this door represents for the planet’s recovery. He’s the young woman older brother.

Key Traits: Observant, humorous, intuitive. His dialogue blends witty remarks with thoughtful reflections about the earth, his bond with his sister, and the door's mysteries.

The Mysterious Door

Description: The glowing ruins that trap Ooo form what appears to be a door woven with shimmering plants and radiant light. Once freed, it opens into a passage surrounded by vibrant trees and foliage.

Lore: The door is an ancient relic created by the earth to preserve its deepest secrets. Its activation marks the first step toward understanding the balance that humanity must restore. It also serves as a gateway connecting the group to nature's last reserves of vitality and knowledge, setting them on their journey of recovery.

Key Traits: Symbolic, mystical, transformative. Its presence shapes the narrative and serves as a link between the past and the potential rebirth of the world.

[staristawrites]

Videogame - Dialogues for the narrator of Drawing Memories

Planet O Storyteller

The storyteller is an eccentric character with an air of mystery and a spark of humor. His attire reflects his connection to magic and nature: a red tunic with gold details that seem to flow like vivid lines, and a blue skirt with billowing edges that evoke the calm of the waters. This narrator has a smile that inspires curiosity and confidence, as if he knows all the secrets of every world and is happy to reveal them, but only through witty jokes and riddles. He extends his arms with the enthusiasm of someone always willing to guide you, although perhaps with a touch of sarcastic humor.

His comments are always a mix of wisdom and irreverent humor. At times, it seems as if he is slightly mocking the places he visits, but he never misses an opportunity to highlight the magic and beauty that still remain in a world on the verge of disappearing. He will be the guide of Drawing Memories, who will take you on a tour of planet O from beginning to end, literally, until its end. Here are some of the dialogues he will tell you in each place, remember that Drawing Memories is a game of free creativity, so its comments are an abstract guide that you can interpret as you wish.

TREE VILLAGE

"Did you know that mushroom roofs are waterproof? Me neither, but I hope you know.",

"Ah, flowers like beacons. How do you avoid getting lost if everything lights up?",

"The fountains here whisper secrets... though I swear they're making things up.",

"Watch out! That shiny crystal seems to have some attitude today.",

"There are flowers that shine like stars. And here I thought lanterns were enough!",

"Do you think mushroom roofs are designed to accommodate gnomes? Serious question.",

"I'd love to know how they care for the hanging plants here, maybe they don't need water!",

"The gardens here make even squirrels seem like poets. Mysterious, isn't it?",

"In this magical place, even shadows dance among the trees. Spooky, yet lovely.",

"Each flower-lantern seems to think: 'I'm brighter than you'. A botanical drama."

PORT ZONE

"Here boats speak wood and threads hold stories. Who needs magic when the sea is the star?",

"Do the shops here sell maps or dreams? Either way, the price seems steep!",

"The sound of the shipyard is almost a symphony, but I sound off if I try humming it.",

"Pirate ships and fantasy. Do you think they accept recruits without experience in piracy?",

"Watch out! Looks like that boat is looking for careless sailors.",

"The wooden constructions here can withstand the sea... or not. Bets are open.",

"A port full of fantasy! Although I'd say the boats are on strike. Very relaxed.",

"The salty air in this area is so thick you can almost cut it... with a mast.",

"Do the waves carry messages from the other side of the planet? Or do they just want to gossip?",

"Threads and wood, a practical combo or a disaster waiting to happen?"

WATER PALACE

"Each crystal seems to dance with light. Does the water teach them special moves?",

"The constant flow here reminds me that nature never stops. Well, almost never.",

"Did you know the palace is designed to 'confuse' gravity? Because I didn’t either.",

"The drops here seem to echo. Mysterious... or annoying, depends.",

"A place where everything flows, except my hair, which keeps frizzing here.",

"Every time I look at that crystal I think: how do they clean it? Important questions.",

"If you think waves are relaxing, wait until you see how the palace changes shape. Pure madness!",

"In this aquatic world, even the fish seem like architects. What's their secret?",

"A palace of crystal and water... ideal for professional swimmers and confused artists.",

"Everything here seems in motion, except me, still trying to understand it."

[staristawrites]

Videogame - “Pachamama” Barks samples.

For this project, I'm working primarily as a writer and narrative designer. This project has a much more narrative focus than Drawing Memories, as there are interactions with characters and quests they give you to advance the story. That’s why we’re using Twine.

GENERAL CONCEPT

Pachamama is a farm simulation and garden design game set in a post-apocalyptic world, deeply inspired by Latin American culture and landscapes. Through exploration and interaction with characters, the player seeks to restore the connection between humanity and nature, overcoming the challenges of a fractured world that still holds hope for renewal

• Main Mechanics:

◦ Cultivate and Care: The player analyzes samples, restores the land, plants seeds and design the garden

◦ Serene Exploration: Explore through varied landscapes such as mountains, valleys, and forests while discovering myths and legends of Pachamama.

◦ Gentle Interactions: Solve small challenges or assist villagers and spirits like nature beings with simple tasks.

1st Scene BARKS -

In the first scene of Pachamama, the MC awakens from a long slumber in a post-apocalyptic world devastated by time and neglect. What once may have been a lively landscape now appears dry, toxic, and desolate, with muted tones and traces of destruction.

While exploring the surroundings, the protagonist encounters Ooo, a character trapped between rocks who we later discover is a kind of door. Ooo explains that he’ve been awake for a few hours and asks for our help to free them. At the same time, they mention hearing sounds coming from the east for a while. Despite our attempts, we are unable to free them, prompting us to head east in search of help.

To the east, the protagonist finds a group of people gathered. Like us, they’ve recently awakened and share the confusion of not understanding what is happening in this strange world. The group includes a variety of characters: curious children, a hopeful young woman, a serious man, an old man, and a cluster of adults trying to make sense of their situation.

OOO

"Finally, someone else awake! Hey, I’m stuck here. Can you help me out?"

"I’ve been hearing noises from over there... I wonder who’s making them."

"This isn’t how I imagined meeting someone new. I could use a hand here!"

"Do you know where we are? I’ve been stuck for a while, trying to remember."

"You should go check those noises out. I’ll be here... as usual, stuck."

CHILDREN

"I just woke up... Is this a dream? Everything looks so strange."

"Do you think this place has games? It feels a bit scary, but fun!"

"What is that over there? It’s glowing... or maybe it’s just shiny dirt."

"I tried planting a stick, but nothing happened. Do you think it needs magic?"

"Where are we? I’ve never seen a place like this before!"

YOUNG WOMAN

"This feels like a dream, but my hands are dirty, so maybe it’s real?"

"Have you noticed? The air smells different, like it's full of memories."

"What happened to this place? I can’t remember anything before waking up."

"If only we could understand what’s going on... Maybe the land remembers."

"I think we just woke up, but everything feels... old and tired."

SERIOUS MAN

"None of this makes sense. Who brought us here, and why?"

"The ground feels... wrong. It’s like the world is trying to speak to us."

"I don’t know where we are, but we’ll need to stay alert. Just in case."

"Waking up here feels like a bad joke. Let’s figure out what’s going on."

"Did anyone else notice the strange cracks in the rocks? Something’s not right."

OLD MAN

"I’ve lived a long time... but I don’t remember anything about this wasteland."

"Ah, I used to sell junk in my house. Now I feel like a young adventurer with an eye for treasure!"

"I’d help move those rocks, but my new youthful energy doesn’t like heavy lifting!"

"Back in the day, I’d nap through afternoons. Now? I’m surviving with style."

"Sure, the world ended. But at least my back pain did too!"

ADULTS

"This place is so quiet... too quiet. I feel like something is watching us."

"We need to stay calm. Let’s try to figure out where we are."

"It’s strange, isn’t it? I don’t remember how I got here, just waking up."

"Maybe if we stick together, we can make sense of all this."

"The land seems damaged... Do you think we can fix it somehow?"

If you don’t do anything, or take too long to talk to everyone, some characters will start to get tired and a little cranky and anxious.

Ooo

"Hey, uh... I’m still stuck here. You didn’t forget, right?"

"You’re taking your time, huh? No rush... except I can’t feel my... anything."

"So, uh, are we doing something about these rocks? Or is this our new hangout spot?"

"I hate to interrupt your deep thinking, but my situation is still very rocky over here."

"If you were waiting for me to magically move... bad news, I need help."

CHILDREN

"My legs are tired... Can we sit down somewhere?"

"Are we going to stay here forever? It’s boring!"

"I think I’m hungry... Or maybe just bored. What are we waiting for?"

YOUNG WOMAN

"I don’t like sitting still... It makes me feel like time is slipping away."

"We should do something. Standing around won’t solve anything."

"If you need help deciding what to do, just let me know. I can’t take this stillness."

SERIOUS MAN

"Every moment we stand here is a moment we could be using to figure things out."

"The longer we wait, the more vulnerable we are. Think about that."

"This isn’t a time for overthinking. We need action, now."

OLD MAN

"I swear, if we don’t move soon, I’ll turn into one of these rocks. And trust me, cranky rocks are not fun!"

"If I sit down now, I’m not getting back up! So… are we doing something, or is this the apocalypse’s nap hour?"

"Ah, this standing around is bad for my youthful knees! Let’s move before I turn ancient again!"

ADULTS

"It feels like the land itself is waiting for us to act. What are we doing?"

"If we’re not going to help, then let’s at least move somewhere else."

"People don’t get anywhere by standing still, you know."

[staristawrites]

Short story - A family full of shadows

Everyone in my family has a shadow. A shadow that appears when it is most needed and will accompany them for the rest of their lives. It's like having a lifelong best friend. Shadows are the pride of the family.

On my grandmother’s side, the shadows have big, round eyes, so big they sometimes look like lanterns in the dark.

On my grandfather’s side, they have elongated, shiny eyes like mermaids in the sea.

In their love story, their shadows met and fell in love even months before they saw each other for the first time.

All my aunts have had their shadows since I’ve known them, and although they all look very similar on the outside, deep down they are very different from each other.

It is said that one of my uncles even has a bluish-green shadow, but when his shadow appeared, he decided to live far away in the forest, and no one could find him or verify if his shadow truly was colorful. But they believe it is, because since childhood, everything around him was always blue and green. The garden at the house was never so beautiful!

Before appearing in our lives, shadows start giving signs of their existence. Everything becomes a little darker around the person who will be their companion. It’s as if a nighttime air envelops them, even during the day.

I remember when my sister met hers. That has been the only time I’ve seen a shadow come into the family. It was a very happy moment for everyone; it was something we eagerly awaited. Her shadow was dark and beautiful and had already manifested several times before revealing itself.

But mine hasn’t even hinted at being close. Everything around me remains as bright and colorful as ever.

I’ve tried searching for it and calling it in all the places I know, inside and outside the house, but no luck.

I’ve even tried makeup and costumes to resemble it, but nothing worked. I think it might have been worse than doing nothing—everything is now brighter and more colorful than before.

Mom and Dad tell me not to worry, that everyone has their time and that I shouldn’t compare myself to my sister, but I know they’re actually a bit concerned. By now, there should have been several signs of my shadow.

I want to think that maybe it’s traveling? On vacation? Shopping?

Perhaps it’s lost in the desert. Stuck in a jungle with toucans and macaws. Or in the middle of a big city.

...Everyone is a little worried... I’ve never felt as observed as in recent times.

But I can’t be the only one in the family without a shadow, right? That’s simply impossible.

In the end, the concern grew so much that we decided to call an expert.

She asked me many questions and had me do exercises to figure out the reason why no shadow was with me.

“But you do have a shadow,” she told me after a while. “The problem is that you don’t want to see it.”

What do you mean I don’t want to see it? But I’ve done everything to see it!

“You’ve done everything to see what you want to see. You haven’t noticed that it’s always been with you.”

I can finally see it!

My shadow is not a dark shadow like the others!

It’s a rainbow full of colors!

[staristawrites]

Short story - Ulf and the Fire God

On a warm August afternoon, a strange visitor entered the village of Lettuce and stopped before the first villagers he encountered.

—Tell me where I can spend the night. I am very tired and must eat and sleep before continuing my journey —he said in a strong voice.

The villagers, a young man chopping wood and his grandfather who accompanied him, turned their heads to look at him and recognized him immediately. The elderly man quickly said:

—Behind the tower you see over there, at the edge of the Unknown Lands, you’ll find the farm of Ulf, the kindest and strongest Viking in the village. He will surely host you well and give you what you need.

The stranger thanked him and continued walking to Ulf’s farm. The grandson, who had not moved since the stranger appeared, sighed in relief.

Ulf had just entered his cabin, carrying vegetables he had just harvested, when he sensed someone standing in the open doorway.

—Are you Ulf? —asked the stranger.

—That’s me, come in, you are welcome in my home —said Ulf, who had immediately recognized the stranger.

—I am Logi, and I need a place to eat and sleep before continuing my journey.

—And so it will be —replied Ulf —You can sleep in this room, and I’ll start preparing dinner right away.

Ulf prepared many varied dishes. The stranger was Logi, the God of Fire. His flaming beard and insatiable appetite were renowned everywhere. If the God of Fire were left hungry, he was capable of consuming the plates, the furniture, the house, and everything in his path. He could even destroy entire villages.

After a while, Ulf served the food. Large platters filled with delicious dishes covered the entire table.

—Everything looks wonderful —said Logi with a big smile, visible amidst the flames of his beard. —Now tell me, where is the meat? —he asked, seeing that all the dishes were made of cooked vegetables and fruits.

—In my home, and in this entire village, we don’t eat meat from any animal. But I assure you, you won’t be left hungry.

—How is that possible?! —shouted the God of Fire— A man must eat meat to be strong! How else will I reach my destination? What poor excuses will I have to give for my delay? If you don’t eat meat, I doubt you’re as strong as they claim!

Ulf grew a bit nervous. He was angering the God of Fire, and this could bring great trouble, not only for him but for the entire village. It was his duty to calm him before it was too late.

—Allow me to show you that everything on this table will make you even faster and stronger than the meat you speak of. I see you still have energy for a little competition. —The God was intrigued by this proposal and allowed Ulf to continue.— Do you see that large ash tree right at the border of the Unknown Lands? It’s a sick tree that I need to cut down. Whoever can run to it and fell it first will be the winner. If you win, I’ll get your meat. If I win, you’ll eat what I’ve served.

Ulf and Logi stepped out of the cabin and prepared themselves outside. The race to the ash tree wasn’t too long, but it was a considerable distance. Logi burned brightly, but Ulf remained calm because since his arrival, the God of Fire had been shrinking due to his fatigue. Ulf believed he might actually have a chance to win—after all, defeating a god isn’t easy!

The two began running swiftly, but Ulf managed to take the lead. He reached the ash tree, embraced it, and uprooted it from the ground. He set it aside and returned to the starting point, where he waited for Logi, who was just a few steps behind.

—I am amazed! No one has ever beaten me, especially not a mere mortal!

—I must admit, it wasn’t easy —Ulf replied— Even as tired as you are, you’ve been the best opponent I’ve ever faced. Now, let’s go in and enjoy the good food to help you recover.

Logi sat at the table with a suspicious look. He recognized some dishes, but others seemed strange to him. Besides, could all this truly restore his strength? Ulf began eating enthusiastically, and the God followed suit. He started with one dish, then the second, and soon he had eaten three-quarters of everything on the table.

—My flames have never been so big and bright! —exclaimed the God in astonishment— You have my respect, Ulf. You are a good man—and very strong, too! I’ll never doubt you again. I’ll reach my destination and tell our story. You’ve earned the respect of the gods.

The next morning, Ulf woke up to find that Logi was no longer there and the house was empty. The only sign that the God had been there was the lit fireplace. Inside, flames that changed colors danced—flames that would never extinguish.

[staristawrites]

Short story - Ulf the viking - Introduction

0 - Ulf

In the distant highlands, in the village of Lettuce, on a small farm, lived Ulf the Viking.

Ulf was young and strong—the strongest in the entire village and the nearby towns. Perhaps even the strongest of all the Vikings. His red hair and beard often led to comparisons with the god Thor, the mightiest of all gods.

Ulf was kind to everyone. He helped the elderly and played with the children. Because of this and his great strength, he was loved and respected by the villagers of his town, the neighboring towns, and even those beyond the great river.

Beyond Ulf’s farm lay the Unknown Lands. There, gods, giants, monsters, and magical animals roamed. The inhabitants of the village of Lettuce were used to strange things happening, but they felt at ease, knowing that, in the face of any danger, Ulf could easily protect them. There was nothing and no one who could defeat him.

[staristawrites]

Long story - Introduction - Drizzle

On an ordinary Thursday in February, during the dreadful summer of Santiago de Chile, Mrs. González walked cheerfully down Los Quillayes street while sipping a can of sugar-free Coca-Cola. On her arm, she carried a bag with bread and cookies, as she always did when visiting her niece’s house. Every Thursday, they had tea, or “once,” with the cookies from the bag, while watching the latest soap opera or discussing the latest family news.

Mrs. González was a hardworking woman. She had mostly managed on her own and didn’t think that would change for the rest of her life. From a young age, she held several jobs, taking every opportunity she could find, since she lacked formal education and had to make do with whatever she could. Thanks to the connections she made over the years, she now worked as a cleaner at a metro station near her home. Her schedule allowed her to have a couple of days off during the week, and one of those was always dedicated to visiting her niece, who lived on the other side of the avenue. Though, it must be said, her recent visits hadn’t been as fun as they had been months ago. Mrs. González’s niece was going through a tough economic and family situation—or so it seemed. Mrs. González often thought to herself that they were in this situation because they wanted to be, as she had heard from other relatives that her niece and her husband had turned down several offers that could have easily solved the issue. Even so, Mrs. González wasn’t going to reprimand them, as she didn’t consider herself in a position to give an opinion on a matter that honestly didn’t affect or interest her much.

Mrs. González married young, to her childhood sweetheart, despite objections from both families. The only thing the families agreed on was not supporting their decision. However, the one person who had supported and respected Mrs. González’s marriage from the beginning was her sister, who became her only close family until her niece was born. Unfortunately, Mr. González passed away a few years after they married, and since then, she decided it was better to remain alone. Her family consisted of her sister and her niece, to whom she tried to dedicate as much time as her job allowed.

Mrs. González continued sipping her Coca-Cola as she walked and thought. One of the things she liked most about her job was that no one bothered her while she worked—or rather, no one saw or noticed her. She was an anonymous and invisible presence to the metro users, while she could observe anything she wanted to the rhythm of the songs playing on the radio she listened to through her headphones. The pay wasn’t great, but it allowed her to live comfortably and enjoy small luxuries like the cookies in her bag.

All these thoughts crossed Mrs. González’s mind as she walked and turned the corner, where a light mist began to appear. The day had started out quite pleasant, but as she walked, it started to cool down, and along with the mist, a light drizzle began to fall. Mrs. González was always prepared; her bag carried all sorts of things, including a light sweater, which she now put on to protect herself from the cold and damp as she quickened her pace to her niece’s house.

***

At the Northanger estate in the English countryside in the year 1816, Elizabeth woke up. Just a moment ago, the weather had been fine, but now a light rain was falling on her face.

Miss Bergstrom had sent her an invitation letter for dinner to celebrate the arrival of her niece in town, which, for Elizabeth, wasn’t exactly the most appealing plan for a summer day. She politely offered to swap the invitation for a picnic on her own lands instead. They could enjoy the sun, and if she got bored, she could play with her dog, Oliver. Miss Bergstrom accepted despite her near lack of love for animals, as the idea of being at the Knightley estate absolutely thrilled her, even if it meant sharing the day with a Labrador.

Now Elizabeth was alone, lying on damp blankets and leftover food. She stood up and began calling out for her dog through the rain and thickening mist.

• “Oliver!”

• “Oliver!”

She kept walking as the hem of her dress became muddied from the rapidly forming sludge in the grass. Elizabeth had a strong sense of fashion, but she never understood why, in this place and weather, she had to wear such dresses that always ended up covered in mud up to the knees.

Elizabeth was a graceful young woman from a family with certain comforts. Not too many, but enough to make a good match. She was well-educated and knew how to contribute her knowledge when appropriate. Her delicate features made it easy to find a suitable husband in a short amount of time.

Her husband and master of the estate was Mr. Knightley. He looked the part of a fine gentleman: a tall man with a pleasant demeanor and good manners. In his family, he was the only man, as he had two sisters—one older and one younger—so he knew how to interact well with the women around him. The young ladies sighed upon seeing him, and the gentlemen admired and praised his class. Through his brother-in-law, his older sister’s husband, he had met Elizabeth’s family, and after a few months, everyone knew a prosperous wedding awaited them.

Oliver was the puppy Mr. Knightley gave Elizabeth a few days after their wedding when he had to leave for the city on urgent business. Elizabeth had never had a dog before, and this one had the energy of ten horses, though he had won the hearts of the entire household. Now, his disappearance into the mist was the worst thing that could happen.

The Labrador could hear his owner calling but decided to ignore her for a while. He had found something far more interesting that required all his attention. Since living with the Knightley family, he had traversed the estate and paths many times, knowing and recognizing everything within them. But what lay before his eyes now was something no Labrador retriever had likely ever seen, and probably none would ever see again.

***

In 2019, Ana worked at a bookstore in a small town near Barcelona. Her greatest companion among all the books was a chubby cat named Tomate (so-called due to the resemblance between his body and a tomato). Ana loved her job; she was an avid reader, and the bookstore’s low traffic allowed her plenty of time to read. You could say her primary job was reading. Today, she closed early to take stock of the store’s inventory. The drizzle from earlier had now turned into rain, so the streets were empty, and no customers were likely to come in, making it the perfect time to focus on another task.

Ana was a mature woman, though far from the image we typically have of a mature woman working among books. She was around 40 years old, with a round body, curly short hair, and large glasses. She lived with her husband, and thanks to his job and her current one, they could lead a comfortable life, occasionally enjoying certain luxuries. Since her job at the bookstore didn’t demand her full attention during the day, aside from reading, she ran a blog where she shared anecdotes from her life and reviewed and recommended authors and books available at the store.

The bookstore had three main sections. The first, which kept the business alive, was for school texts and books. The second was for “new” books, both fiction and non-fiction. The third was a section of old and used books the store owner had collected throughout his life. This last section was Ana’s favorite. She particularly enjoyed reading the dedications or notes in these books; they were stories within stories.

Despite being excellent at her job, that day, Ana didn’t notice that one of the oldest books in that section was missing.

…

[staristawrites]

Short story - The island of the dead

The metro smelled like sausage. Or maybe mortadella, but one thing was certain—it definitely smelled like deli meat. It was 4 in the afternoon, and it was already starting to get dark. In winter, the days are shorter on this side of the world.

I looked at the map once more. There were still a few stations left before reaching my destination: The Isle of the Dead. The smell of deli meat had a strange effect on me. On one hand, it was a bit unpleasant, but on the other, it made me incredibly hungry. I stuck my hands in my pockets to see if I could find any remnants of the peanuts I’d been carrying the day before. I found a few and thought that, with some luck, I’d find somewhere to eat after getting off the metro. The journey seemed endless.

“Lucky me,” I thought as I left the station—there was a place selling slices of pizza. Through gestures and a few broken words, I managed to make the Turkish man behind the counter understand that I wanted one of his 1.5-euro pizzas. He said something—I suppose he wanted to sell me something else—but I declined. He handed me the pizza and moved on to the next customer. The pizza was cold, but I was so hungry I ate it anyway. Now I understood what he had been trying to ask.

From the metro station to the Isle of the Dead, it’s about three blocks on foot. It was cold and drizzling, the kind of drizzle where the drops feel like tiny needles piercing your skin rather than simply getting you wet. There weren’t many people on the streets—it seemed that people on this side of the world didn’t care much for winter.

I started walking, and to the side, there was a small street that, in my opinion, would shorten my route, so I turned there to escape the drizzle. In the distance, a group of young people dressed in black—goths, punks, or metalheads. I couldn’t quite tell, as they were bundled up, and their coats and hats obscured whatever they were wearing underneath. Suddenly, one of them shouted something at me. I pretended not to hear and kept walking, quickening my pace. They shouted more and more as I tried to play dumb, until one of them, the tallest, broke away from the group and ran toward me. I thought, “Well, this is it; this is where it all ends.”

The woman had a very serious, concerned, and annoyed expression as she spoke to me, glancing back at her group. I listened without understanding a word, and when she paused for me to respond, I said, “Sorry, I don’t speak your language,” with the most distressed, puppy-like face I could muster. The woman looked at me, horrified, and exclaimed, “Oh noooo.” She explained that they were from another city, needed to find the metro quickly because one of their friends wasn’t feeling well, and hadn’t found anyone they could ask for directions.

I showed her my map and pointed to where we were and where they needed to go. They left, and I sighed in relief as I resumed my walk—only one block left to the Isle of the Dead.

I reached a square where an elderly man was playing an electric guitar. The sound echoed off the buildings, amplifying and filling the entire place. Some tourists dropped coins for him, while others simply ignored him. I looked at the buildings—they all seemed far too old to be there with that sound, but the mix of elements gave the sensation of being in a dream.

I entered one of the buildings, walked through its hallways, paying close attention to everything on its walls, and finally reached my destination: The Isle of the Dead, one of Böcklin’s many versions of that painting—one of my favorites.

[staristawrites]

Dialogue - Dream

- Seems like you enjoy the night.

- Yes. When everyone else sleeps, I can think. It's my time; I feel comfortable.

- It's cold. Don't you want me to close the window?

- I'm fine.

- I can't sleep. I put the kettle on. What are you doing?

- Trying to write.

- And if I play some music? Would it bother you if I turn on the TV?

- A little. I need to write.

- My father is dead.

- What?

- They called me a few days ago. He died last week. No one told me until after the funeral had already happened. I couldn’t have gone anyway—it was far away, and I don't have time. There's nothing on TV.

- Is that why you can't sleep?

- That's not it. Last night he came to see me. My father came to see me yesterday, and he died last week.

- Do you expect me to believe you? You've had a nightmare.

- No. It was him. Dead, but alive. He smelled of damp, freshly turned earth. He told me he didn't like his funeral. He had hoped for something simple, with few people, but all the aunts and cousins from my grandmother's side came—and there are many of them. Everyone cried and brought flower wreaths. They cried as if it had been a great loss for everyone, but we know that’s not true. My father wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't remarkable in any way.

- And what else did he say?

- That he was a bit afraid. That I should carry on with the store's work, take care of his belongings, and not let Aunt Lobelia or anyone from that side take them. He said he didn’t expect much from me, that I should stay calm and that I couldn't fail him anymore.

- The kettle seems to be whistling.

- He told me not to make promises I couldn’t keep, that I'm already a grown man and need to be responsible for him, the business, and the family.

- I'm going to have tea.

- I had already disappointed him, you see? I failed him. I failed at being his son, and now that he's dead, he comes to tell me so. He also said that now that he's dead, things seem easier, that he’d met someone who had also died, and they were thinking about moving in together. He seemed happy.

- Are you waiting for him? There are three cups in the kitchen.

- No. Maybe. I don’t know; I put it out just in case. It’s not very normal to wait for someone who’s dead.

- Maybe he's coming with the dead woman—there’s a cup missing.

- Stop it; don’t be like that. We’re talking about my father. I hope he comes alone; I’m not ready to receive anyone else tonight. I’ll close the window; I’m cold.

- Did you ask him what he wanted? Or did he only come to tell you this?

- No, I didn’t.

- Maybe that's what you need to do if he comes again—ask him what he wants. Maybe that’s what you should ask me. You’ve disappointed me too, you failed me, and now I’m dead.

Raúl woke up in his bed. He was sweating and had the sheets tangled around his legs. He touched his forehead—it was burning. The sun was rising, with a few rays shining through the curtains. He got up, put on his pants, and left the room.

In the dining room, someone was sitting there. An older man, wearing glasses and slightly gray-haired—it was his father.

- You’re awake already? Want some coffee?

- And Hortensia?

- She’s gone. She left days ago; remember? You helped her move, and before she left, she gave you her keys and her new address and phone number in case she'd forgotten anything.

- Are you dead?

- A man my age shouldn’t be asked such things. Now finish your coffee and eat something; we’ve got to pick up some boxes before opening the store. And don’t even think about calling Hortensia; we need to leave.

- I wasn’t planning on calling her. Are you sure you're not dead? You came to see me.

- Of course, I came to see you—several times. You’ve been suffering for days because of the separation and haven’t been able to get up or go to work on your own until now.

- Are you happy? Now that you’re dead...

- Stop it already. I’m not dead yet, and that makes me very happy, so yes. I am happy.

- Anything you want to tell me? I had a dream last night.

[staristawrites]

Short story - Alfonso

Alfonso was a serious man. Every morning, he made sure his clothes were perfect: clean and neatly ironed, with a well-defined crease in his trousers. He had several suits, but his favorites were the gray ones. He usually paired them with black or brown ties. Occasionally, very occasionally, he felt bolder and wore ties with polka dots or subtle patterns.

Alfonso was an important man, and he knew it. Despite his short stature, it was impossible to mistake him for a child. His thick eyebrows and pronounced nose betrayed his age. These, combined with his confident gait, made it immediately clear to anyone seeing him that they were in the presence of someone significant.

In his office stood a massive desk that contrasted with his height.

He was surrounded by books, many of them law books and reports, as Alfonso was a lawyer. On the desk were several miniature ships, building them being his way of taking a break from the words and numbers he dealt with daily. Among the ships, there was a photo of his eldest son with his newborn grandson and another of his wife—his second wife. To Alfonso, family was important, and he wanted anyone entering his office to realize this immediately.

“Celia,” he called out loudly. “Please cancel my afternoon meetings. I have a headache, and I need to finish this report for tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mr. Alfonso. Should I bring you a glass of water?”

Alfonso accepted the water and closed the door separating him from Celia, his secretary. While drinking, he opened the third drawer of his desk and pulled out some folders. He checked the back of the drawer carefully. He needed to make sure "it" was still there. Someone knocked on the door, and Alfonso quickly shut the drawer.

“All done, Mr. Alfonso. Your meetings have been rescheduled for next Tuesday, except for the 5 p.m. one, which is now on Thursday,” said Celia from behind the door.

Alfonso sighed. He really needed to finish that report, which had been sitting there for weeks, but "it" wouldn't let him concentrate. “Everything for the family,” he thought. “This is the best thing for my family and those to come.” He stood and looked out the window. A group of students was singing, protesting about something—they were always protesting about something. In his youth, Alfonso had protested too, but back then, he thought, people fought for important causes, unlike the youth of today.

He sat back down, opened the drawer again, and checked that "it" was still there. The proximity of Graciela made him nervous; she might discover what he had hidden. Celia was a responsible woman, the best of her class, recommended by the secretarial school itself. Her work was meticulous and efficient; he hadn’t yet found a single typo. For that very reason, Alfonso knew he could never trust her.

He drank his water and glanced out the window. The students were gone. Of course, they wouldn't have achieved anything but wasting time and would now be comfortably at home, Alfonso thought.

Nightfall was approaching, and Alfonso struggled to make progress on the report without much success. He told Celia to go home; there was nothing more to be done, and it was late. However, he did ask her to buy him some dinner and leave it at the reception desk so he wouldn’t have to go out when he got hungry. He walked to the door and locked it.

He looked at the report. He looked at the drawer. He couldn’t stop looking at the drawer. He checked the time.

“They’re close,” he said aloud, startling himself by hearing his own voice.

He got up to look out the window—it seemed like that day all he could manage was getting up to look out the window. It was already dark. A man with a food cart was slowly crossing the street, and someone was standing on the corner, waiting.

Alfonso heard a whistle and distant footsteps outside the door. He hurriedly opened the drawer. Carefully, he took out "it," the object he’d kept hidden all week in his desk. The footsteps grew louder. Cautiously, he unwrapped the package in his hands and waited. The footsteps were no longer audible—they were right outside the door. Someone laughed.

“Come on, Alfonso! We don’t have all day!” one of them shouted.

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” said another.

Alfonso looked at his desk, the photos of his family, his ships, his books, the cursed report. It was likely that all of that would end now.

“If you’re not coming out, at least hand us the bomb,” said the first voice.

Alfonso glanced at the photos again. Then at the bomb in his...

[staristawrites]

Short story - Zahorí

The problem was with the rod. Yes. It had to be.

At 4:45 in the morning, Ruperto got up, prepared his breakfast: coffee and a bowl of oatmeal, organized his belongings, and left his house the same way he had done for the past 20 years.

Ruperto was a simple man. He had a routine, but for weeks something hadn't been working. It had been many days since he last found water. He had never taken so long to locate an underground source.

“It must be the rod,” he repeated in his mind. The very same rod he had been using all these years was reaching the end of its life. “Everything has to die at some point,” he told himself. The rod he inherited from his father, and which had previously belonged to his grandfather, had completed its cycle.

Being a dowser was a family matter. Of course, nobody ever asked him if he really wanted to dedicate himself to it. When he was 9 years old, he was told: “Here you go, it's your turn,” and there was nothing else to be done about it. And NOTHING TO BE DONE ABOUT IT.

Ruperto was very proud of it. He was proud of it because one had to take pride in something, and from the moment he could remember, belonging to a family with a dowser tradition was what gave him the most pride, though a small part of his brain wasn’t entirely convinced. That little part, which had insisted on growing larger and larger over the past few days, repeated more and more forcefully, “break the rod.”

But if he broke it, where could he find a store selling rods? He didn’t recall any shop at the nearest mall that had anything resembling his rod, or even remotely close. And if there was one place Ruperto knew well, it was the mall.

Anyway, that old and worn-out rod no longer worked, he thought, while he waited to feel a faint vibration indicating water somewhere. “It's old, and that's why it doesn't work.” “The problem is the rod,” he convinced himself repeatedly, “there's definitely no point in trying to work with it anymore, and no one would find use for a worn-out rod battered by time.” He stopped once more to see if he felt anything, even the smallest sign. He resumed walking and impulsively threw the rod far away, shook himself vigorously, and walked briskly yet quickly, disappearing down the path that led to the city.

A few minutes passed. The rod vibrated.