Alba Oliva, was born in Córdoba on May 13, 1980.
After finishing her Fine Arts studies at the Mateo Inurria School of Applied Arts and Artistic Trades (Córdoba) in 1998, the author acquired the Diploma in Primary Education as well as in Music Education from the UCO (Universidad de Córdoba, 2001). She joined the National Police Corps in 2005, motivated by a strong vocation, without neglecting all her artistic concerns. She is the author of the novel "The color of rhythm" (Editorial Amarante, 2018). Likewise, he has published more than twenty stories in a cultural magazine with circulation in the United States, much of Latin America and Europe.
He has combined his profession as a police officer with the artistic world, exposing his collections of oil paintings on canvas in different rooms, projecting his short films (for which he composed his music) and, above all, developing literary creativity.
Her good friend Geena gave birth to the twins. Susan did not think about it, she packed her bags, asked her boss for a week off to go to Louisiana with all the hope of meeting the little ones.
Her GPS left an error, she did not notice it. It was when he reached a crossroads that he realized that his mobile phone was not working. From a bird's-eye view, the vehicle was in the center of a cross, it had three options before it. He gave up on solving the problem with his browser. He thought about throwing it by lot, with a coin, with three numbered pieces of paper… Until, somewhat angrily, he turned to the right, simply to travel a few kilometers in the hope that his positioning system would recalculate the route and go optimally again. .
A hitchhiker in a dirty white cowboy hat beckoned with his thumb. He did not think about the idea of stopping, as he approached the man he observed him. He smiled at her.
You are surely a madman, a murderous psychopath. What fear, I would not ride even for all the gold in the world.
Susan kept checking the status of her phone. The landscape offered swampy areas that flooded trees with thick branches, a gloomy place.
Distracted with her cell phone, she went off the road a little, enough to lose control of the vehicle. He tried by all means not to fall into the swamp and he succeeded, stopped abruptly but could not avoid hitting a tree near the road.
She was unharmed, the accident was not serious; just enough to leave your car broken down. He was horrified to see smoke rise from the hood.
Alone, without a car, without a phone.
It can't get worse.
As soon as he thought this, he turned his gaze and saw the hitchhiker. Was afraid. The man smiled at her the same way he did as she drove.
I'll lock myself in the car. What a silly thing, it will break the glass and kill me anyway. I will run, do not kid yourself, how long has it been since you played sports? It will catch you. What if I jump into the swamp? I think it will be the best option. Wait: snakes, alligators, leeches ...
The man in the hat was about twenty meters from her. Susan was paralyzed. He greeted her, taking off his hat slightly and bowing his head, still fixing his eyes on the woman.
I'm going to die.
The man stopped in front of her.
What's the problem? Did an animal cross you?
I got distracted on the mobile phone.
The hitchhiker dropped his face to one of her shoulders, making a snap at the corner of his mouth as a slight rebuke. Then he smiled.
It is a warning, next time it can be deadly, for you and for others.
You're right, I won't think of doing it again.
I am John.
They shook hands. The man took off his hat, went to the hood, asked permission to open it, she nodded. He stood for a while with his hands on the engine. He rubbed his hands together and began manipulating pieces. Susan began to calm down, her tremors subsided.
Ready. You can go on, miss.
Is it fixed ?! I can not believe it! Thank you! You really saved my life.
The woman wanted to hug him.
Where is it headed?
To Baton Rouge.
But it goes in the opposite direction to the capital. If you continue on this road you will end up leaving the state of Louisiana.
John explained how to redirect his march, and even drew a map for him in a notebook so that he would never get lost again.
Have a nice trip, John wished, lifting his hat slightly again.
Susan got into the car, but not before thanking him.
Should I take you? If he was a murderer he would have finished me a while ago, he thought as he drove, looking at him through the rearview mirror. Maybe he likes to stab with the vehicle running, I don't know, psychopaths have their hobbies. Be selfish, everything has turned out well. Go to your friend's house and don't risk it.
He arrived at Geena's house, the babies were precious. They dined, drank wine, laughed on the porch in the starlight. Both the couple and their guest felt tired, they went to sleep.
The next morning, Geena's husband, Charles, was reading the newspaper very attentively. When Susan and Geena sat down at the table Charles got up to go to work. They both had quiet coffee, chatting about the babies.
Susan picked up the newspaper to leaf through it a little, while paying attention to her friend.
God said Susan, covering her mouth, completely distressed, still watching the news.
What's going on, dear?
It's this man, Geena. I know him: the hitchhiker who fixed my vehicle after the accident.
And what about him?
Susan looked at her friend, dismayed. He removed his hand from his mouth.
This man has been killed by the person who picked him up to take him in his car. John has been killed.
Was his name John?
Yes. And I should have taken him.
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"Those who look at the stars" is a police thriller where several cases based on real events occur, one of them being the backbone of much of the novel. The plot moves in a choral story in which six main characters have only one gesture in common: looking at the stars in moments of dismay. The author compares the characters' gradual or sudden connection with the way the stars, nebulae and other objects in the cosmos interact with each other, pushed by practically the same laws.
The afterlife, with the narration of various near-death experiences, will be a constant throughout the whole novel, with all the amalgam of turns that this entails.