Fatima: The Final Secret. Juan Moisés De La Serna
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Fatima:
The
Final
Secret
Juan Moisés de la Serna
Translated by Daniel J. Ruddy
Publisher: Tektime
2019
“Fatima: The Final Secret”
Written by Juan Moisés de la Serna
Translated by Daniel J. Ruddy
1st edition: November 2019
© Juan Moisés de la Serna, 2019
© Tektime Publications, 2019
All rights reserved
Distributed by Tektime
https://www.traduzionelibri.it
The reproduction of this book, either in full or in part, is prohibited, as is the incorporation thereof into any computer system and its transmission in any format or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, by photocopy, by recording or any other means, without the prior written consent of the publisher. The infringement of the aforementioned rights may constitute an offense against intellectual property (Article 270 et seq. of the Criminal Code).
Please contact CEDRO (the Spanish Center for Reprographic Rights) if you need to photocopy or scan any portion of this work. You can reach CEDRO through the website: www.conlicencia.com or by phone at (+34) 91 702 19 70 / (+34) 93 272 04 47.
Foreword
The sun had not even risen when I heard the alarm, half-asleep I stretched out my arm and with an accurate whack, I turned it off and the ringing stopped. I decided to go back to sleep after turning around in bed, remembering that we were on vacation.
Why would the alarm have sounded? Surely it was a mistake. Wrapping myself up to the head, I let myself drift back into that blissful early morning doze.
Dedicated to my parents
Index
CHAPTER 1.
The sun had not even risen when I heard the alarm, half-asleep I stretched out my arm and with an accurate whack, I turned it off and the ringing stopped. I decided to go back to sleep after turning around in bed, remembering that we were on vacation.
Why would the alarm have sounded? Surely it was a mistake. Wrapping myself up to the head, I let myself drift back into that blissful early morning doze.
Vacation, a magic word, I did not have to go to class. Everything had gone by so fast this year, in a way that no other year ever had. Before I knew it, the academic year was over. It seemed like it was just yesterday that I was getting up, when I nervously went in to see which tutors would teach me this year and eager to meet my coursemates, some of whom I hadn’t seen all summer, because they had left. That being said, I had also spent a few days with my family in Sanxenxo, where my grandparents had taken it upon themselves for years to rent a cottage for everyone.
This summer, Dad said that our days at the beach had to be cut short, a colleague from the office had come down with something and he had to cover for him, and of course he was not planning to be alone at home, who would make him dinner? And who would prepare his clothes?
Everyone at the beach understood. Who wanted to be at the beach anyway? We still remembered that last year we could not enjoy any more than two or three days, the rest were rainy and the weather was terrible. It was so bad that we could hardly go out onto the street, so no one protested at the prospect for this year, because we would have a better time at home anyway. At least if the weather was bad, or a friend came to visit or we went to their house, it meant that the time was not as boring as it had been there.
The twins, being of the same age, always entertained themselves, they never got bored, but I didn’t have any friends around here, even though I think it’s been five years that we’ve been coming here to the same beach, “La Praia de Silgar,” in Sanxenxo, in the province of Pontevedra.
“A mellor Praia de Galicia,” or “The best beach in Galicia,” according to my grandparents in their thick Galician tongue.
There were always lots of girls, so my two sisters had friends to have fun with, but there were never any boys my age, which is why I was always the one who stayed with Mom, Dad and my grandparents, bored, never knowing what to do.
“Let’s have a little game of chess,” my father would say when he saw me there.
It was a game that he liked a great deal, and I think he had taught me since I was a child so that he could have someone to play with. Of course, to play with him, I had one condition, “That he had to let me win at least once,” which he almost always did in the first game.
I would be encouraged, and put all my effort into seeing if I could do it again, and we would play a few more rounds, but I would not repeat my luck again, and despite my efforts I would lose one game after another.
“I’m not playing anymore, it’s very boring to always lose, you cheat me,” I would say angrily.
“Manu, you already know how to play well. If you want to strive and beat me, you don’t have to move so fast, you have to stop to think about the next step, and consider what consequences the move you’re about to make might have,” he told me very seriously.
“Come on, what are you saying? Dad, it’s