Hi
there! Today I write for my foreign readers because, on the occasion of the
seventh anniversary of The Enigma of the Lost Labyrinth, I want to share with
you the first chapter of the novel. As I told you, on June 29th it will be
seven years since I published this novel in Spanish. Two years ago I published
the translation of this and for that reason now I can share it with you. I hope
you like it.
The
Enigma of the Lost Labyrinth
CHAPTER
1
April
3, 2014, Madrid
That man gazes at her intensely as if he could
dominate her mind. She feels full of energy, jubilant, holding his gaze. A
sudden chill runs down her back when the man puts his hand on her shoulder. His
deep voice whispers something in her ear and she shudders. When that man takes
her hand, a sharp pang grips her stomach. She feels something so strong for
him…
Alison wakes up drenched in sweat,
overwhelmed by the sensations that still pervade her body. She looks at the
clock and decides to get up. She heads toward the room opposite, her favorite
den, as if it were an isolated cave where she can hide from the world. Opening
the door she stands next to it while she observes the room, self-absorbed. The
study brims with light that filters through the blind, filling it with
vitality. The golden reflections of the early morning sun’s rays form a
sparkling curtain with dust motes lending the space a touch of magic. The books
are elegantly arranged on the shelves. There is a solid dark wood desk in the
center of the room on which lie some notes next to a laptop. Alison comes
straight up to the table and sits down. For a while she remains silent while she
rereads her notes. Come on, Alison, I’m sure you have more ideas, but her
thoughts are lost in her mind. She can’t get inspired. Frustrated by her mental
block, she rises from the chair. You’re about to finish the novel, you can’t
give up now, she thinks. She paces the room for a few minutes while her
thoughts wander. She tries to focus on the memory of one of her last dreams and
is overwhelmed by it.
His mouth is so close to hers that
she cannot help wishing he would kiss her. The peace that his gaze transmits is
almost supernatural. It goes beyond the limits of gravity. She feels light as a
fragile bird that soars across the blue sky under the scorching desert sun.
That man seems to want to protect her from something and he holds her tightly
against his chest without taking his eyes off her. It is such a pure feeling
that a strange emotion sweeps over her. When he caresses her face with the
delicacy of someone who finds a treasure, who professes a true love, an
absolute admiration, a shot makes her look backwards. She hangs on to him,
stunned to immobility by the sensation.
The ringing of the phone brings her
back to reality. She heads toward it and picks it up.
“Hello. This is Alison speaking,”
she waits.
“Good morning, Alison! I’m Carlos.
How is my favorite writer?” She hears the voice of her dear friend speaking
with an overly cheerful tone.
“Well, right now I’m frustrated
because I can’t concentrate. I was trying to finish the novel.”
“Oops! I was calling to tell you
that I’ll most likely publish it.”
Her stomach tingles in an
unsettling way as she assimilates his words.
“Are you serious? It’s too early to
make a decision. You only read a little.”
“And it was enough. I can’t wait to
read the rest and I hope it’s soon. I don’t want to edit another novel before
yours.”
“I know, I know, but I need time;
if you overwhelm me, I’ll never finish it.”
“All right, take the time you need.
Don’t worry, I’m sure that your novel will be a success and I’ll see it with my
own eyes. Call me when you’ve got it.”
“You bet. Thanks for cheering me
up. I really appreciate it.”
“Happy to help. See you soon.”
She hangs up the phone and looks at
her notes. The rounded, clearly legible handwriting suggests nothing to her
mind. She sighs. Since this morning her pen will not write anything, she takes
her bag, puts on her coat, and goes out. She walks upright with an elegant bearing,
taking firm steps on her high heels. The people who pass by and glance at her
face feel her courage, her coldness in those moments. She walks in a hurry with
a faraway look in her eyes. She stops in front of the usual coffee shop that
she goes to when inspiration is lacking in the morning. She pulls the door open
forcefully and comes in.
“Good morning Miss Alison! What can
I get you? Your favorite coffee prepared in the usual way?” the waitress says
to her.
“Yes, thanks.”
She looks for her customary corner
and sits in front of the window. A few minutes later, she is enjoying its
panoramic view while having her coffee with toast. In her opinion, Madrid is a
majestic city where dreams can come true if you persevere but, at times, it
seems to her like a giant monster that slowly devours those who do not follow
its rhythm. She watches people pass in a rush as if it were a race against
time. She can sense their anxiety. She looks up at the overcast sky and wonders
if she will be able to finish her novel.
Suddenly, she hears a man talking
to the waitress.
“I have just told you not to sit
down there. That young lady is a writer, and she doesn’t like to be bothered by
anyone. She comes here to find inspiration.”
“Even so, I want to sit at that
table,” the man insists.
“Well, do what you want. I already
warned you.”
The man approaches her with his
coffee, puts it on the table and looks at her with his intense black eyes.
“Would you mind if I joined you?”
Alison looks at him in surprise.
“Didn’t they tell you that I need
solitude?”
“Yes, but I thought that maybe if I
asked you…”
She observes his face. The man is
really handsome. She is surprised to find herself hesitating and reminds
herself why she has gone there. I need to think and that’s what I have to do,
she ponders.
“I’m sorry but if you don’t mind,
I’d rather you sit at another table. Another day perhaps,” she says trying to
be kind.
The man, embarrassed by his
overture, goes to another table. Deep down she feels sorry for him, but it is
not her best day to talk; she prefers to remain on the sidelines. A few minutes
later she goes to the street and looks at the sky. It will start to rain
soon, she thinks when she sees that it is almost completely black. When she
passes next to the signpost that indicates to the left: Parque del Retiro
she stops, scans the sky again, hesitates for a moment without taking her eyes
off the sign and finally continues straight on. She walks self-absorbed without
paying attention to the people who are going in opposite direction to her.
Suddenly, the barking of a German Shepherd dog brings her back to real life.
She notes that the dog is running to her with something in its mouth. She stops
expectantly and frowns when it comes up to her, watches as it deposits a
brochure at her feet and runs back in search of his owner. Surprised, she bends
down and looks at the paper. Widening her eyes she sees that it is about an
excursion to Egypt organized by a travel agency. She enjoys looking at the
photo of the pyramids of Giza for a second and shakes her head. She starts walking
and looks at the sky again. Think, think, think! It can’t be so difficult,’
she urges herself. At that very moment, as if she had a strange connection to
the clouds, a brightness illuminates the entire sky. She is alarmed and looks
down at the ground. She begins to walk quickly and, in no time, arrives at her
apartment. She comes in and slams the door. She goes to her bedroom and stops
in front of the dresser. She observes one of the portraits and picks it up. She
looks at the picture and smiles.
“Oh, auntie! I wish you were here
with me,” she says to the portrait while stroking it.
She observes the smiling eyes of
her aunt and how she hugs her, beaming as she remembers that day.
“Did you like the gift?” her
aunt asks her smiling.
“Sure!” she shouts excitedly. “It’s
the best gift in the world!”
Her aunt laughs gently.
“Oh, my little girl!” She
surrenders tenderly. She hands her the box and the book. “Take it. Keep it so
it doesn’t get lost.”
She waits for Alison to put the
gifts in her backpack.
“Can I use it now?” she pleads.
“No, honey. It’s a gift for when
you grow up.” She sees disappointment in her niece’s face. “You always can look
at it and when you grow up you can put it on. Remember that it will be your
lucky amulet and when you need me or you need to find inspiration, you simply
need to put it on.
“Really?” she asks smiling again.
“For sure! You can be certain of it,”
she smiles.
She puts the portrait back on the
dresser and opens the jewelry box. She puts her hand in and takes a gold
pendant out. She looks at it while stroking the round plate with her thumb. She
feels the touch of the engraving under her skin. She opens the chain and puts it
around her neck to clasp it on. Suddenly a bolt of thunder overwhelms her, and
she looks at herself in the mirror. It starts raining hard. She observes the
Arabic inscription on the pendant, squeezes it with her hand, takes a deep
breath, gives herself a firm look in the mirror and walks determinedly to her
study. She goes to the desk, sit down, turns on the laptop and makes a move to
write. Thunder rumbles. She remains thoughtful for a few minutes as she hears
the sound of the rain and how it strikes the windows ferociously. Suddenly, as
if inspiration had possessed her, she starts writing. For hours, she is focused
on her work. The storm still continues but lightning flashes in the night sky,
illuminating the study intermittently and filling it with its roars accompanied
by the pitter-patter of the rain on the windows, creating a mysterious
atmosphere of unease. Even so, Alison Martínez is ecstatic, writing quickly,
moving her fingers as fast as she can as if it were a race against time. The
speed of her hands is faster than the wind. She is seized with mortal anguish,
seeing the end of the story so close, and cannot help feeling a compelling need
to write a fateful end as if something in her guts were screaming that if she
does not do it in that way, she will be wrong. Thunderbolts resonate in her mind
in a short period of time urging her on with their aura of unease. She feels as
distressed and nervous as the protagonist and wants to end the torture,
tormented by the sufferings of the characters. Alison feels the sweat running
down her forehead. The storm subsides. She does not stop for a single moment,
nothing interrupts her. Even if the electric light had gone out due to the
storm at that moment, she would not have stopped writing. She is already on the
final lines of the long-awaited end; her euphoria increases more and more. She
feels a compelling urge to change it, she cannot bear it to be so fateful. She
continues with the final paragraph.
After a while, she stops writing
and looks at the last page of her work on the computer screen. She has a rush
of adrenaline and looks out of the window. The storm is over and it is night.
She is surprised to look at the clock and sees that it is nine o’clock. As if impelled
by supernatural force, she rises from the chair, walks quickly to the living room,
and turns on the television. The news channel is broadcasting, and she sulks.
She feels bad about the misfortunes of the world. She is about to change the
channel when the doorbell rings. She is amazed to see that it is her friend
Carlos, the editor. She happily opens the door and surprises him.
“Wow! From what I see you’re
excited. Good news?”
“Hi! Come in!” She leads him to the
couch “You’re right. I’ve good news. I’ve just finished my novel; it seems that
you sensed it.”
“Nice! I’m happy to hear it. Today
I’ll know the end.” Excited, he claps his hands.
“By the way, why did you come here?”
“I thought that you would be
devastated because you weren’t able to finish your novel and I came to invite
you to dinner.”
“Really?” She is astonished.
“Certainly, my dear,” he admits
with a seductive smile and sees that she laughs.
“You’re a lovely person; thank you
for everything. Hang on, I’m going to take my bag and coat.”
“Bag? What for? I’m treating.”
“No way!”
A few minutes later, they are both
dining in an elegant restaurant in Sol.
“Well, tell me, what title are you
going to give your novel?”
Alison gives him a mysterious
smile.
“The
enigma of the lost labyrinth.”
Carlos gloats over the sound of the
phrase as he repeats it to himself.
“Hmm…I love it! It sounds good.
It’s perfect!”
They both laugh knowingly.
I
attach this Amazon link where you can read up to chapter six as a preview. And
if you are interested in the book and the book and the story hook you, you can
buy it on Amazon through this link.
FREE
INSTANT PREVIEW
LINK
TO BUY THE BOOK
BOOK TRAILER
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