Alba Oliva was born in Córdoba on May 13, 1980.
After finishing her studies in Fine Arts at the Mateo Inurria School of Applied Arts and Artistic Trades (Córdoba) in 1998, the author acquired a Diploma in Primary Education as well as in Music Education from the UCO (University of Córdoba, 2001). She joined the National Police Corps in 2005 driven 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 diffusion in the United States, a good part of Latin America and Europe.
He has combined his profession as a police officer with the artistic world, exhibiting his collections of oil paintings on canvas in different rooms, showing his short films (for which he composed his music) and, above all, developing literary creativity.
They bought the house eleven years ago, a huge house on the outskirts. They thought to fill it with children, boys and girls who would flood it with laughter, running around, tantrums; breakfasts, lunches and dinners at a large table, where chaos and joy reigned in unison. But they couldn't have children. They tried in every possible way. There was no way.
They loved each other, and that was enough for them. They went horseback riding, played with their dog, watched movies with their cats. They were a fully happy couple.
One stormy night, heartbreaking thunder woke Lara. Her husband was sleeping soundly. She hugged him to sleep. A strange sound stopped him. It came from below. Some of the cats, she thought. He got up from the bed and went down to open one of the cats trying to get in through one of the windows. The cats were all on the sofa in the living room. That sound again. He did not identify the place of origin, until one of the glass jars that was in the basement fell to the ground. Lara crept down the ladder, saw the fractured container and all the nails it had contained scattered on the floor. A shadow from the corner of her eye alerted her. He ran for the stairs, hurried up. She went to the bedroom and woke her husband. They both went downstairs again, searched the basement. There was no one. Still they called the police. Agents searched the entire house. Lara and Daniel were reassured that everything was in order.
The sounds did not stop during the subsequent nights. As the days went by, they not only felt in the basement, but also in the rest of the home. Cats, Daniel said.
Lara fell ill with the flu, she had to stay in bed for a week. During that time she would remain alone in that big house for a long time.
One morning, shortly after her husband left for work, Lara heard a whisper in the kitchen. She called her husband on the phone, it would take at least an hour to get back. The woman went out to the street to wait for him, she was terrified, she never believed in ghosts, but that made her think about everything she never noticed. The dog entered the house wagging his tail, as if someone he knew was inside. Lara followed him. The dog scratched at the cellar door to try to open it. When its owner opened it, she hurried in, got out and went to the ventilation shaft. He barked nonstop staring at the vents. Lara inserted her fingers between the spaces in the duct cover; it didn't take long to remove it. He picked up a flashlight, lit up the interior. What she saw made her jump back in shock, tripped over a box and fell to the ground on her breech. Little by little, someone whom Lara kept shining with her flashlight came out of the dark hole: a nine-year-old boy. A spirit, he thought. A spirit that caresses my dog; they know each other well, he kept thinking.
No ghost, he was an orphan child, his parents had died, they were destitute. He walked from the city to the town, and from the town to the house, where he took refuge. At night he had gone out to feed himself with the first thing he found in the refrigerator. He spent long periods with the cats and the dog.
The couple decided to adopt him, but it could not be: many families on the waiting list. But before being adopted by one of those families, Lara and Daniel were his foster parents. They enjoyed that time every moment, grateful for everything that little Victor gave them, especially something that changed their lives: a new vision of fatherhood and motherhood; they decided to process an adoption. Victor taught them in a few months that they could be parents without any blood connection, the important thing is not DNA, the real connection is love, wherever it comes from, whatever it may be. Neither biological nor adoptive parents, they would not be labeled, they would simply be parents.
The process was long, it took a few years. Finally Angela came into their lives, and filled their house with laughter, tantrums, games ...
Click here to purchase it
"Those who look at the stars" is a police thriller where several cases take place based on real events, 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 consternation. The author compares the gradual or sudden connection of the characters with the way in which the stars, nebulae and other objects in the cosmos interact with each other, driven by practically the same laws.
The afterlife, with the narration of several near-death experiences, will be a constant throughout the novel, with all the amalgam of twists that this entails.