The Stranger and Me

by Sergio Muñoz Moreno

I´ve been really excited lately due to the amazing research project I´m involved in: the development of a time machine. And what´s more, the fact that I´ve been selected to take part in an experiment: going back to a near past (30 years ago). 

Over the last months, I´ve been trained for these experiments. Among all the rules to comply with, there is one that mustn´t be broken: I can´t contact or interact with anyone, in order not to change the future. What would happen if I interacted with someone in the past? Would the future be changed somehow?

Reflecting on my imminent trip to the past, something strange took place: an old memory sprang in my mind. I remember playing in a park when I was a child, when a stranger approached me and was talking to me for several minutes. After that, before saying goodbye, he took a photograph of both of us and gave it to me, according to him, “as a souvenir of you.”  I never let my parents know about that weird incident.

With this memory, a mechanism started to work inside my mind, fitting together the pieces of a puzzle and giving meaning to the rare happening that occurred so long ago. But, it couldn´t be! It should be just a fruit of my imagination.

I ran to my bedroom and jumped on a trunk where old objects from my childhood were kept, searching for that photograph. When I found it, my heart turned over. I had never been so surprised in all my life. Apparently, it seems I disregarded (or I will) the first rule.

Animals can Teach us

by Maya Davis López de Carrizosa

‘It had been raining all morning…’

So even though I had a list of outdoor pending assignments, I decided to stay home and organize all those pictures I found on my mother’s bedside table the day she passed away five years ago. For some unknown reason, that morning I felt strong enough to go back to all those good memories without the deep grief that had invaded me since I last saw her.  

The first picture quickly placed me on a lovely sunny day at the beach. My father was teaching me how to remove the hook from a fish he had just caught and I was staring at him in admiration but with a sight of sorrow. I could not help feeling sorry for each and every single creature he fished and I was the happiest girl when he gave me back his capture and let me put it back into the sea.

It was a day like the one reflected on the picture, when the most incredible thing in the world happened to us. I was about to release a huge fish, so big that my clumsy seven year old hands could not hold it for long. My father finally helped me and we both put it on a pond gently bathed by the waves. I waited for the next wave to sweep it in the sea but to my surprise the fish turned back at me and clearly said: “thank you little girl”. I could not believe my eyes, well, my ears!  A talking fish, that was extraordinary. But my ears were not fooling me, the astonishment on my father’s eyes confirmed that he had also heard the fish’s gratitude. 

From that day on, we kept the secret; it did not make sense sharing it since no one would have ever believed us. We did learn something though; even the smallest creature, the simplest animal, even those we do not understand because they do not seem to communicate with us, all of them must be respected and preserved.

At the tender age of seven I suddenly understood that we had plenty of things to learn from animals and to this purpose I would devote my future career. 

Hospitality in Africa

I went to Africa a few years ago. There were five of us in the group in Tanzania for three weeks to climb up Kilimanjaro, visit several National Parks and meet some tribes. Every single step we took in Tanzania was exciting, every activity was stimulating, but there was just one thing really amazing for me.

We went to meet the Bushmen, a tribe still living in the Stone Age. The small group was formed by women with several children and a few young men to defend them. The rest of men had left the group early in the morning in a hunting expedition for all the community.

Our guide arranged with them to take a walk around in order to watch some animals. We just had to follow them through the bushes in a single line. In spite of that, we, the Europeans, got lost and they (wisely) decided to take us along a dry riverbed. Suddenly, they became very excited, pointed out to a tree and took quickly different positions near the tree. One second afterwards a monkey was dead on the ground. Just on the same river margin they set a bonfire with sticks so quickly that it seemed easy and cooked the monkey. 

Only God knows when it was the last time they had eaten but they invited us to share the small monkey. Isn’t it hospitality and generosity? I would have never imagined they intended to share their scarce food with their hosts. I’ve never been so surprised in all my life!

A BREAKFAST IN PROSE

by Daniel Antón

It had been raining all morning. The skies were closed and grey. The smell of the humid soil in gardens flooded the air. Some drowsy pedestrians struggled to avoid the puddles which spotted the pavement and still reflected the streets as mirrors do.

There was a bar heading down the deserted main street. Inside, the smoke of cigarettes accumulated at the top of the room like fog which had been dying the white ceiling throughout the years. Nevertheless, the inner environment seemed both homely and warm. The aroma the coffee maker gave off enhanced that sensation of tradition and authenticity that customers thank for. The steam covered the glasses of doors and windows and let a cute blond girl draw smiling faces with her tiny finger.

Two vivid waitresses in turn waited upon the customers who were at the same time enclosed in their own routines, with sights put down on wrinkled newspapers or over the boiling coffee served in ceramic cups which got the client’s hands warm while they seized them for a long time. In spite of the fact that each person had their respective stories and experiences, they were sharing that peaceful moment there.

The old wooden tables were being left little by little as people were awaking from their evident daze. Finally, the rising sun passed through the glazing slightly and got rid of its veil of steam so as to change the gloomy atmosphere and let the new day start.

The story of Canelo and Paco

by Francisco Santolaya Soriano

This is not only a story about friendship and survival; it is also about the indifference that surrounds us in our everyday life.

But I knew nothing about this until I stumbled upon a small monument a few years ago. I was focusing my attention on my mobile phone when I noticed a plaque on the ground. The text read: "To Canelo, Paco´s best friend."

After being invaded by curiosity, I immediately began to search for information. So I got to know the story of Paco, a drifter who survived on the charity from passersby and Canelo, a small mongrel dog, short haired, who used to walk with his head down. Both used to vie for the attention of the public in a shopping area by day and a gate by night. Nobody knows how but after some time they became inseparable. Some versions of the story say that Paco and Canelo never spoke, but just looked at each other and it was enough to know if the day would bring benefits or they had to shelter because of the imminent rain. Other versions discuss how Canelo started to bark the day Paco fell ill, and how he followed the ambulance all the way to the hospital, and then was long waiting for Paco to come back.

But this never happened.

Paco's life ended as soon as cancer decided to show up. Canelo waited for Paco in vain outside the hospital, gaining the attention of the medical personnel, even the media, until his strengths failed six months later.

If Canelo were alive today I wouldn´t know what to say. Maybe I could start our conversation by stating: “Canelo, until I heard about your story, I had never been so surprised in all my life.”

Rain beyond the Earth

by Ismael Roldán Castro

It had been raining all morning, but at long last, a very strange sun appeared. The crew were walking on air. The Meteorological Project had been a great deal of complete success. There were a group of scientists from different areas who had been dealing with this challenge for such a long time.

In fact, the reason why the vast majority of the travellers were deeply depressed was the lack of real meteorological phenomena. Despite the fact that they had seen a lot of films about the Earth, they suffered from claustrophobia after having been flying so many years, and consequently, most of them had decided not to keep looking for a new planet in another galaxy and, as a result of it, to come back to the Earth. But, fortunately, the giant proportions spacecraft ‘ISE III’ (Interstellar Space Experiment, 3rd Era) was able to fulfil its aim.

Eventually, Mr Andrews, a widely-recognized expert in this kind of missions and highly-respected commander of the long voyage, summoned up the crew in order to carry on with the interstellar journey. So, from the cosmic vantage point where they gazed up at the far corners of the Universe, he solemnly addressed those future Argonauts by telling them: 

‘If we hadn’t created artificial rain inside our spaceship as well as an incredible sun, we wouldn’t have managed to produce healthy food, fresh vegetables and restocking of animals. It is music to your ears. Now, you can put your psychological discomfort behind you. You are fed up with pills, but time is running out. We will be able to settle in a new galaxy and human life will be spread all over the Universe’

The child’s summer play

by Cristina Pérez Ternero

When I was a little child we used to play in the basement of my grandmother’s house during our summer holidays. However, if it hadn’t been the coldest place in the house, we would have chosen somewhere else as the scene of our summer adventures.

One day while we were playing hide and seek, I decided that the old dusty wardrobe would be the perfect secret place where no-one would go to find me. But it was me who found something amazing. I was pushing my body against the rear of the wardrobe and that was enough to unlock a hidden door to a room that could be the dream of a 12-year-old boy full of imagination. It was the greatest room filled up with old spying devices, books, yellow handwritten pieces of paper that I found behind the wardrobe… everything ideal to build a summer of exciting activities without precedents.

I had never been so surprised in all my life. My friends and I, as a team, decided not to tell the adults about our plans of further investigations. If we had told them, I’m sure they wouldn’t have allowed us to go down there anymore. We ourselves felt like spies with a secret mission.

Years later, my grandma told me that that was the room where my grandpa had to be hidden in order not to be discovered during the civil war. The place where they also discovered something: their love.