a small mark

I thought I was following my heart. But maybe I’d just lit a fire that had spread to shores I once believed unreachable.

“¡Bruno, ¿qué te pasó?!”

Inside Parasol, I found him behind the cash register, under the unending stream of silent LED surf compilations, surrounded by boards, shorts, colourful sunnies, keychains, and surf merch I didn’t even know existed. His arm was in a sling, bruises darkened one side of his face. He beamed through his teeth and welcomed me back with a bear hug that, despite his injuries, still crushed me, though it didn’t stop me from smiling back.

“¡Me alegra mucho verte de nuevo! Por un momento pensé que ya no volverías. ¿Qué tal todo por allá?” he said with wrinkles around his eyes. “Me escribió Nerea que venías, creo que le he pegado un susto porque ahora viene también para pasar el finde por acá.”

Our conversations were always riddled with multiple stops and detours. I’d long given up expecting a straight answer from him. At first, it annoyed me how non-linear our talks were—especially on important matters—but I’ve learned to let myself be carried away. I’d let him speak and, as if in the ocean, swim along until eventually we always made it back to shore.

“Bueno, como puedes ver, sigo entero. Al final no fue nada grave. Se necesita mucho para lastimarme, ¿eh?” He roared with laughter and winked, giving me a firm pat on the shoulder with his good hand. There was a pause. “Enjoy the Silence” echoed across the shop. His face turned serious as he leaned on the counter. I mirrored him, leaning in to hear the story.

“Lo más extraño me ha pasado. Iba de vuelta como si nada, escuchando a The Doors, y de la nada se dejó caer un diluvio. Bajé la velocidad, puse las intermitentes. Iba con mucho cuidado—ya ves que la Jeep no es lo que era. Y luego lo más raro, te juro tío, de la nada, empezó a hacer un frío brutal. Traté de encender la calefacción, y vi cómo algunas gotas se congelaban sobre el parabrisas. Y entonces… algo se cruzó a toda velocidad. Como una mancha de luz. O un animal en llamas. No sé qué era. De repente, la camioneta dejó de funcionar y perdí el control.”

There it was again. That cold finger tracing the back of my neck. And the ache, deep and insistent, pulsating under the skin of my wrist.

“Bruno, lo siento mucho. ¿Y qué pasó después?” Anger bubbled in my gut—confusion, helplessness, frustration at whatever dared crawl out of my dreams and into my friend’s life.

“Pudo haber sido mucho peor, pero al final todo salió bien. Por lo menos no había nadie cerca, y solo me he roto el brazo y uno que otro rasguño. Tardé en darme cuenta de lo que había pasado. Cuando por fin me pude bajar del coche, revisé el árbol que me había detenido, pensando que habría sido un pájaro o algo por ahí, pero no encontré ningún animal, nada. Lo bueno fue que poco tiempo después pasó un coche que me ayudó a contactar a una ambulancia. Para cuando llegaron, la ambulancia y la policía, ya había dejado de llover. Una locura.”

Bruno’s eyes sparkled with their usual mischief, but he was leaning in now, voice lower than usual.

“La verdad es que hay algo en el aire que no me sienta bien. No sé cómo explicarlo. Ya ves que me gusta creer en fantasmas y esas cosas, pero tío, es que me sentía como en una peli. Esa lluvia tan fuera de lugar, el frío repentino, y esa luz... Suena muy raro, lo sé. Por eso no se lo he dicho a nadie más que a la policía. Pero pensaron que estaba en shock, y dudo que lo investiguen más. Por lo menos quedó claro que no fue mi culpa. Y tío, no he tenido un accidente así en años, te lo juro. En fin… parece que la aseguradora va a cubrir parte de la reparación de mi pequeña. Espero tenerla de vuelta en unos días, pero ya veremos.”

I was curious to hear more about what he’d seen. I wanted to tell him about the sinister ghoul from my dream—could it have been the burning animal he saw? When I pressed him again, he shuffled in place and brushed it off with one of his vague, dismissive replies.

Still, we agreed to meet later that night for some birras after his shift. He was excited to hear about my time in San Sebastián and now bounced around the shop showing me the new merch. I was relieved he was okay. It still seemed unreal—how he’d walked out of the wreck as if indestructible. I barely noticed the pain on his face.

Outside, I called Nerea. I could hear the café buzzing in the background. The strain in her voice softened when I told her Bruno was more concerned about getting back in the water.

“¿Y tú, cómo estás? Te escucho como serio.”

“No sé, tuve una pesadilla anoche y creo que no dormí bien. Luego hubo algo en la historia de Bruno que me dejó pensando en el sueño. Voy a hablar de nuevo con él en la noche. Mañana que llegues, paso por ti y platicamos?”

“Vale, suena bien. Acá estamos full con el trabajo, fue bueno haberme quedado. Tu descansa y disfruta el mar. A veces, Miguel, los sueños parecen decirnos algo… pero muchas veces, solo son sueños. No te agobies mucho por eso, ¿vale? Y gracias por hoy.”

As the warm embrace of the afternoon sun began to fade, I walked over to the shore. I’d missed Lekeitio and its healing waters. A light swim and a quiet read by the shore would help me reset. I stared at the sand beneath my feet, at the waves crashing onto the shore. Life was good—great, even. At least in theory. My friend was okay. The days in San Sebastián had been overflowing with honey and gold.

With the breeze pushing my hair back I could not shake the feeling that something was in movement or had already permanently changed, shifted. There was an itch I couldn’t reach. A pull toward destruction. A familiar urge to tear it all down and run. The violence, the rage, the ache—they all felt like they were creeping back in.

I tried to think of Nerea. Of Bruno. Of the peace that had found me—or maybe the peace I’d managed to find for myself. I wondered what you would’ve said to me in a moment like this. About the power of false hope. The bitterness of disappointment. The danger of desire. The illusion of forgetting.

I thought I was following my heart. But maybe I’d just lit a fire that had spread to shores I once believed unreachable. The weight of the worlds and lives that abuela spoke of—of memory, of grief—pressed down on my shoulders, crushing whatever fragile dream I had for a quiet life. My dreams. La Sombra. They’d been with me since morning, gnawing at the edges of my clarity. Tainting my vision. I could feel the pressure rising, clouding the place I’d carved out for rest and bliss.

I stripped off my shirt and headed into the water, hoping the cold ocean tide would jolt my mind back into place.

And it did, briefly—until I felt the sting.

A sharp burn, just below my thumb, on the inside of my right wrist. Like a jellyfish, maybe. Or something else.

I looked down.

A small mark—smooth and scale-like, like a shard of ice catching the light.

Right where the Shadow had touched me in the dream.

y como siempre aquí el soundtrack del mes :)