Estrella Daza and the House at the Edge of the Road

Stars. 

The glowing orb of hydrogen and helium producing heat and light through a multitude of nuclear fusion reactions. 

Also the twinkling lights, suspended in their extraordinary patterns, dazzling above me. They are also the inspiration for my name: Estrella Daza. 

I close my eyes, drinking in my surroundings. The warmth of the sun-baked sandstone beneath me. The coldness seeping from the night sky. The soft breathing of Alondra, my horse. The slow and steady beating of mi corazón, my heart. I listen as the coyotes howl to one another. The canyons echo their calls. Eventually the coyotes quiet and the night returns to its stillness. Slowly the sky tints: the night sky brightens and my gray surroundings take on a more defined and colorful form. Dawn is approaching yet I close my eyes once more, giving myself time to organize my thoughts and mentally prepare myself for the day ahead of me. 

As the sun slowly begins to rise, so do I. However, I am much younger than the sun and am already riding along the trail by the time the sun peeks its head over the canyon cliffs. 

By the afternoon I can see a town growing on the horizon, a dark blob slowly taking shape as I get closer. One building separates out, then another. Not long after that, I arrive. 

The town, like many towns now, looks to be in disrepair. The wooden buildings look faded and vintage, the weary remnants of the town’s mining or industrial history. The adobe buildings are new in comparison, built by those repopulating the forgotten town back before Year 0. A fine layer of dust covers all the buildings but one. That house sits in the middle of the street, dividing it in half. From above, I imagine the town would look like a drawing of an antibody, or the letter Y. The house was made in a Spanish style with clay colored adobe walls and a red terracotta roof. A portico archway sits in front of the house, guarding the front of the house behind an iron and wooden door. On either side of the door are two candle lanterns. Meanwhile, bougainvillea in various shades grew along a short stone wall that separates the street from the small garden and porch of the house. 

Cautiously, I urge Alondra forward. She only takes a few steps when the front gate opens. A man steps out and watches me approach. Following him is a woman. The man is tall and broad-shouldered. A sword sits at his side while a cowboy hat sits on his head. The woman wears a white shirt with multicolored fabric flowers sewn onto it and black shorts. She has a black rectangle framed glasses on. 

“Halt.” The man calls once I reach roughly twelve feet from him. I dismount Alondra and turn to face him. 

“What is your business here?” The man calls to me. 

“I am a simple traveler. I am just passing through.” I tell the man. He glances at the woman next to him. She glances at him then looks back at me.  

“Jackson!” She gasps. She takes a step forward, her eyes fixed upon my left leg. I don’t have to glance down at it to know that I have likely already bled through the bandages I put over my injury this morning. 

“I come in peace.” I say. I thought I read somewhere that this statement is a universal sign of a traveler’s good intentions. 

“I need to help,” she says, turning to the man. The man sighs and shakes his head. 

“Alright, but one of these days your boundless generosity is going to get me killed. Bring her in if you want.” The man turns around and heads towards the gate. The woman rushes to me.

“Does it hurt? How can I help? You can stay with us. You’re going to need to redress that wound. Luckily, I know more than my share of medicine.” After she inspects the bandage and fires questions at me, she looks me in the eye and puts a hand on my shoulder. For a moment, I am overwhelmed, but I manage to respond. 

“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that bad.” I lie. I look her up and down. Out here, I thought hospitality had gone extinct. No one takes in people off the streets anymore, not that that was a frequent practice in the past. She must be playing some game or expecting to gain something, otherwise why would she waste resources on a stranger? I try to take a step past her but my leg buckles. After a long day of riding on top of the injury, I’m not surprised. The woman catches me. 

“I don’t think it would be wise to continue. You’re injured and alone. I’m not trying to trick you. I want to help. Besides, I made soup!” She takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to force you to make decisions either. If you want a meal, medical attention, and a place to stay, come with me. If you prefer to go your own way, can I at least offer you the meal and medical attention?” Usually, I would shrug her off and continue riding but either from the injury, the exhaustion, or the trustworthy nature of this woman, I nod my head. 

“I’ll take the help.” I say. 

“Great!” She says, visibly excited. “My name is Sandi, by the way. My brother’s name is Jackson. Do you need help with anything?” I nod and lean on her shoulder as I limp towards the house, Alondra following from behind. 

“What made you change your mind?” Sandi asks as we step into the house. I smile.

“The homemade soup.”

“This is delicious!” I take another spoonful of the soup. I am currently sitting at the island in their open kitchen. In front of me is one of the best soups I’ve had in a long time. It’s rich and flavorful with corn, chicken, carrots, cabbage, zucchini, and noodles. 

“I’m glad you like it!” Sandi smiles at me. 

“Yes, eat our food.” Jackson says in a fake irritated tone. 

“Jackson!” Sandi elbows him. “Be nice!” He shakes his head and rubs his arm. 

“I can pay.” I offer. I don’t want to be a burden on someone who is so kind. 

“Don’t worry about it, Jackson’s just messing around.” She shoots her brother a glare and he shrugs. “Now! Let me take a look at your leg.” Sandi takes a seat next to me and moves my leg onto her lap. The bandages on my left shin are soaked through with blood. Sandi pulls out a book and flips through it. She stops at a page then opens another book. She puts on gloves then begins to remove the bandages. 

“I’m going to step out.” Jackson says, exiting the kitchen. 

“My brother could survive Death Valley for weeks, sail from California to Japan, cross the Amazon Rainforest, and avoid getting killed by assassins, but he still can’t stand other people’s blood.” Sandi tells me. 

“For good reason! Do you know how many illnesses are transmitted through blood?” Jackson calls from the next room.

“Twenty blood borne pathogens” Sandi replies quickly, as if she has that number memorized. “Hence the use of gloves.” She wiggles her fingers then finishes removing the bandage and peers at the wound. 

“How did you get this?” Sandi asks. 

“I…” I pause, thinking about this morning, when I got my injury. “I was riding fast and fell. I scraped my leg against a rock.”

“Lies.” Sandi calls out. I stare at her. 

“Yes, I lied but how did you know?” 

“Easy, this wound looks nothing like a scrap with a rock.” She points at my wound. I look at it and take a deep breath. I’ve been calling it a wound, but a better wound to describe it might be a large cut. 

“Fine. The truth is I cut my leg by accident. I was cutting leather to fix Alondra’s saddle when I accidentally cut too far.”

“See, that tracks. Well, good news, you’re going to be okay.” Sandi looks up at me. “Bad news is that this will scar, and you get to hear a nice long lecture about safety and how to properly clean a wound to prevent infection. One thing I will say, good thing you learned to cut away from yourself.” Sandi smiles and resumes consulting her books. 

A short time later, my cut is washed, disinfected, and rebandaged. I take a step off my chair and am pleased to find that my leg hurts considerably less. 

“Thank you.” I say to both Jackson, who had just returned to the room, and Sandi. 

“Don’t thank me, thank Dr. Sandi Miracle over here.” Jackson points to his sister.

“You know I don’t go by that anymore.” She tells him. “Forgive Mr. Jackson Miracle, he doesn’t realize that just because I am a medical doctor, it doesn’t mean that I have to be known as Dr. Miracle.”

“Wait, you’re a doctor and have the last name Miracle.” I say, shocked. “I thought all the doctors left Earth.”

“Not all doctors go into medicine for their egos. Most of us actually want to help people and many people are still here on Earth, this amazing wonderful planet. Besides, even if I wanted to leave for the Moon “utopia”, I didn’t have the money to pay for the outrageously expensive tickets.” Sandi explains.

“Hmm.” I respond, unsure what to say. Sandi must be older than she looks if she was a doctor before Year 0. “Speaking of money…how can I repay you?” Sandi opens her mouth but I interrupt. “I’m serious. Let me give you something.” Sandi smiles.

“Alright, how about this. If you can tell us a story that I’ve never heard before, you get to pay for your stay however you like. If I have heard it before, consider your meal, medical care, and a one night stay paid in full.” Sandi offers out a hand to shake. 

“Deal!” I say. “What’s the theme?”

“Hmm…have you ever heard about Iliana Violet?” Sandi says. 

“Of course!” I reply. “When I was a child, my mother would tell me stories of her and other characters to pass the time on the open trails. We were constantly traveling from village to village. I don’t think my parents have ever owned a house!” I laugh, thinking of the fond memories in my past.

“My friends and I would swap stories while camping. She is one of my favorite characters.” Sandi says, smiling at her fond memories too. 

“Alright ladies, here are the rules.” Jackson begins as we move towards the dining room table, which sits next to the open kitchen. We take our seats, Sandi and I across from one another and Jackson next to us at the end of the table. “No outside resources allowed, meaning no consulting books to remember names…” He looks at Sandi. 

“That was once!” She exclaims, “I forgot the secondary character’s name.” 

“Well, I’m just laying out the rules. The story must come from your own head, or preferably a story that you were told. Nothing inappropriate. Are you ready, Stranger?”

“My name is Estrella.” I say, suddenly realizing that Sandi and Jackson had done so much for me, even though they hadn’t even known my name. 

“Alright, Estrella. Begin whenever you’re ready.”

I clear my throat and start my story.

My Story:

“Like I said, when I was a child, my mother used to tell me stories of Iliana Violet, the legendary healer. One day, while Iliana was traveling, she happened upon a happy village in the Southwest. The village was, of course, called Happy Place. The people welcomed Iliana into their town and hosted a large feast in celebration of her arrival. At first Iliana enjoyed the festivities, which allowed her a chance to get to know the people and to rest after a long day of travel. Besides, to her, this village was so kind and welcoming that she supposed that the least she could do is allow them to celebrate the evening. When Iliana woke the next day, she saw that the party had continued into the night and the people were still celebrating. She was weary from the past months of curing the sick and was happy to be around joyful people. She let the second day pass in joy and celebration. On the third day, she woke to the same thing, people laughing and talking and playing music. As much as Iliana found the festivities to be cheerful and pleasant, she knew that she could not continue to delay any longer. As a result, it was not until her third day at the village that she enquired about the sick and injured that she could heal. The leader of the village laughed at her. 

“Sick? We have no sick here!” He led her to his porch, which overlooked the village. “Look around. Everyone lives in perfect health and happiness.” 

“How?” Iliana asked. In all her travels, she has never met someone who could stall death and erase troubles.

“You are a healer, no? You must have seen terrible things, but it does no good to dwell on the negative. Not when we can enjoy the success and happiness of the present! Come, let us celebrate!” The leader attempted to lead Iliana into the house but she stood fast. 

“While I agree that dwelling on the past does little good, there is value in remembering our difficult moments. I don’t ignore my memories of sick and dying people because I know that from them I have learned how to cure people with their same afflictions as well as how to value life.” 

“If that is your opinion, so be it. In my village, we choose a different path.” 

“And what path is that exactly?” Iliana asked, determined. 

“My path.” The leader fixed her with a glare, gleaming with fire. “I would advise you to let go of your inquiries, child. Curiosity does not always lead to good things. Besides, isn’t happiness better than sorrow?” 

“Of course.” Iliana nodded and followed the leader out the door. You see, Iliana knew something was not what it seemed in this village and she was right. That day, when she asked the people if they had any injuries or illnesses that she could help with, they looked at her with fear and laughed her off.

“Sick? We’re not sick!” 

It was not until the fifth day that Iliana found someone willing to talk to her. 

“You are the Curer of the Sick, no?” A woman asks. She had approached Iliana late at night when she was walking back to her guest room. 

“Yes, I am she.” Iliana replied. 

“I need your help.” The woman whispered as she glanced around. Whatever she needs, she clearly is not supposed to be talking to Iliana. “Come with me.” The woman led Iliana to a house on the edge of town. Iliana was hurried inside through the back door, with the door closed quickly behind them. 

“What is the matter?” Iliana inquired. 

“My son. He is…not well.” The woman said in a low voice. Iliana heard a cough from somewhere in the house. She stepped into the room to find her son burning with fever and suffering from a cough.

“Your son is very sick. I can help, but I need help. Your leader…” Iliana began.

“No! You cannot involve our leader.” The woman interrupted. 

“Because of this town’s secret, correct?”

“Yes.” The woman lowered her head. “The leader had decreed that all the sick and injured must be exiled from our town in order to keep the rest of us healthy. We have all lost someone, but we are banned from thinking about them or talking about those who were exiled. Please, help us.” 

“I will. I will cure your son and I promise I will do my best to help alleviate your suffering.” Iliana did what she promised. In two days, the boy’s fever cleared and his cough lessened. Iliana also attempted to fulfill her second promise. She confronted the leader, who immediately exiled her for “poisoning his peaceful village”. She couldn’t leave the village without trying her best to help them. She explained to the people she knows that life hurts, but one cannot run from death and pain. Ignoring it will solve no problems. She ultimately left it up to the people. They can stay where they are or leave the village into a world where illness and pain is present but people are able to face it and grow beyond it. Five families chose to come with her, where they lived the rest of their lives taking care of one another and overcoming hardships in their lives. They were not perfect, but they were happy.

“The End” I conclude. 

“You win.” Jackson says.

“I like it.” Sandi says. “But are you trying to say that the most happy things can have the darkest secrets?”

“I’m saying nobody's perfect.” I say.

 “Ha! True, but some of us really do want to help. We’re not all perfect, but we’re not all terrible either.”

“True.” I say, smiling. 

“Well, you won.” Sandi says. “So, what’s it going to be?” 

“How about I help you cook tonight’s dinner and I tell you another story, this time about a flame guardian who battled some of the worst forest fires.” I suggest.

“Deal!” She says, taking my outstretched hand.