The Guiding Star

Chapter 1
The Memory of the Present

In a long hallway, flanked by white curtains on both sides, a young man walked. He used his lashes to hold back blood-stained tears, the result of the sensations that a captivating, irrepressible, and overwhelmingly simple woman had provoked in him.
Deep within him, his heart hammered with strength, allowing the nervous rhythm to reach his ears without delay. He felt that the purest love was guiding him toward complete happiness. There was much around him, but only she mattered; in the absence of her dazzling beauty, everything had turned to darkness. A gloom where the somber traces of the beautiful memory had been imprinted—that she, at some point, had been there.
As they approached a door, the vision became foggy for both. Suddenly, he watched with terror as the beauty's ankles were grasped by poisonous ivy. Silence began to reign, and after this frightening scene, both uttered a stormy string of words that silenced the sorrowful hush. Upon their bodies coming into contact, the love—emanated from their union—glimpsed the two souls in a nebulous cradle; an image that dissolved in an instant when a wave struck the ship, waking him with a jolt.
—Not again! —he exclaimed, furious—. Damn wave! —added Lucas, dazed.
And as an appendix to this abrupt action, the languid drowsiness and the heaviness of his eyes merged as a bottle of liquor fell. He tried to relax due to the premature awakening—without success—and immediately began to think of the broken glass; small details that forced the oracle of dreams to wait for him once more. Subsequently, he began to collect the fragments of that bottle that had shattered his dream with the star that appeared one July night.

That was the same star that guided him when he steered his yacht to "San Cristóbal Pier," where he rested for part of the night before starting his stretching routine the next day. Afterward, he went out as if possessed by an adventurous fever, eager to hunt for another story among the piers, not without first leaving a few pennies that he spun on the bar of the tavern keeper, Joe.

Before Joe and the others present in the bar, he introduced himself as Lucas: a compass-less nomad, an adventurer by impulse whose goal was independence. Although very few knew him, everyone thought they knew him by having a response, in appearance, regarding his qualities: an ambitious boy, adventurous, and detached from fear. In his heart, palpable and bright as the pale moon, friendship was embedded like a seal, with the object of making his enemies understand the immeasurable value he had been consigned; however, love was still a desert of promises.

Every morning was a surprise, every outing a new story. Usually, as the day waned, he undertook the task of reflecting on the emotions lived with that star that watched him from above. Every time he finished unburdening what he had experienced, he set aside time for a talk with himself, seeking the answers that the day had denied him.

For several years he suffered from loneliness, a loneliness repelled by the old strings of his guitar. The figure that awakened him kept him expectant, and that hammered into his mind the suspicion that dreams were the messengers of the Eternal, announcing the vision configured in a woman who would pull him from the lethargy of his almost dying emotions. His most acrid enemy in that lonely scenario was the climate, guilty of veiling his path toward his faithful companion, the star.

A storm filled the North Sea, where he used to sail frequently. "The Archangel" headed toward a salty mass that he navigated with decision. The vessel withstood a great shaking, and as a sequel to such tremors, he was expelled from the deck after trying to stop a violent turn of the helm. Although he gripped the helm with force, the exile became imminent. He fought, but could not hold on. The helm, out of control, made the vessel veer to starboard, throwing him into the sea.

He tried to stay afloat and was on the verge of succumbing, but the goddess Fortune found a barrel for him, to which he clung all night. It seemed that everything was lost, but upon the arrival of the morning, something unexpected happened. How small the world is! Eugene, a childhood friend, was captain of a fishing fleet. The sky cleared a little, allowing the first rays of the sun to signal the castaway. They hauled him onto the trawler of Captain Eugene Lander.

—It can't be! If it isn't the little sea fox! —shouted Eugene, deafening the roar of the sea.
Half-knocked out by the waters, Lucas replied:
—Eugene, the "tin-man"... or rather, the rat!

Lucas collapsed. Eugene saw him lying on the deck and reflected: "How ironical life is; some years ago, it was my fault he almost lost his life, but today I have paid part of my debt to God." Eugene took Lucas to a cabin and carefully left him on a chair; then he lifted a dust-filled blanket. Rodents ran everywhere and insects abandoned the blanket while he shook it.

—Get out of here, partners! Don't you see we have company? Go nest somewhere else.
Lucas rested there until ten in the morning.
—Why so many familiar memories? —he said to himself, while looking at a clock stuck to the wall.
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The journey has begun, and you are my crew. If you have enjoyed the beginning of The Guiding Star, I invite you to share this story and leave a comment below: What do you think awaits Lucas now that he has been rescued from the waters?

Your words are the wind that moves this work forward. I look forward to seeing you in the next installment.

David Gilberto Iriarte
Sculptor of Letters