Echoes in an Empty Room: Stories of Fiction, Stories of Life

By Ignacio Haro

In this book, the author elucidates through lucid fictional accounts real-life issues people experience, and the deleterious circumstances they experience in an endeavor to understand why things happen as they do. The short stories focus primarily on the themes of faith, pain, suffering, and the negative effects of pride and arrogance. Through meticulous descriptions and dialogue, the author captures the experiences of the characters and their struggles, and how it is through a return and an active faith in Christ that healing comes to their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798385019595

Ignacio Haro

Ignacio Haro studied American and English literature at UCLA, earned an MBA degree, then began a master’s degree program in theology. Reflecting on his personal struggles and the difficulties of life in general, he sought a way to express what he and countless others have experienced, and he found this outlet through the power of words as a form of catharsis and to reach a wider audience who could find solace to their personal dilemmas through their empathy with the characters in the stories. His first book, My Strength and My Defense, is a collection of poems on his Christian faith and the role of God in his life. In this book, he addresses the themes of pain, trauma, suffering, loneliness, and the pursuit of a spiritual element in life through fictional short stories based in part on actual events.

Book preview

Copyright © 2024 Ignacio Haro.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

844-714-3454

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 979-8-3850-1958-8 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-1959-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024903594

WestBow Press rev. date: 03/05/2024

Contents

Preface

The Stories

The Drive to the Airport

Broken Mirror

For the Love of His Daughter

A Quaint, Little Coffee Shop

A Lost Soul

Twinkling Lights

The Scituate Lighthouse

Like Two Ships in the Night

The Christmas Tree

Eyes on the Stars

Speech of a Lifetime

A Slight Morning Chill

The Ladybug

The Engagement Ring

Her Prized Garden

A Sunday Afternoon Drive

A Walk in the Woods

Gentle, Lukewarm Breath of Spring

The Desert Highway

A Bitter Taste

To all our Christian brothers and sisters around

the world who through tears, pain, and suffering

seek the Lord every moment, every day.

Though the fig tree may not blossom,

Nor fruit be on the vines;

Though the labor of the olive may fail,

And the fields yield no food;

Though the flock may be cut off from the fold,

And there be no herd in the stalls—

Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,

I will joy in the God of my salvation.

The LORD God is my strength;

He will make my feet like deer’s feet,

And He will make me walk on my high hills.

Habakkuk 3: 17-19 (NKJV)

Preface

44423.png

The English philosopher John Locke said that each person is born with a blank mental tablet in their mind where every single experience is written throughout their life.¹ This would include all the blissful, wonderful events and unfortunately, the melancholy moments as well. People all run the gamut of emotions every single day, every waking moment. While some days bring uplifting feelings of hope and happiness, some days bring no sense of succor from the stupor of stress or the emotional shackles of the past that can negatively shape people’s personalities and their vision for their lives. In many cases, people do not deal with these social-emotional issues effectively and are left to fester over the years, ultimately leaving scars as remnants of the past written in the depths of their souls.

My personal experiences in life have led me to conclude that true emotional healing for the spiritual person can be achieved through their belief in God and Jesus Christ. This is not meant in any way to undermine or invalidate the science of psychotherapy, or to impugn the endeavors of counselors and therapists who work with thousands of patients daily to help them through their problems. If a person seeks professional therapy or counseling to assist them with their issues and this intervention works for them, then they should continue it. Others, however, seek the silent and difficult road of following Jesus to help bring healing to their lives.

It takes profound faith and hours of study to understand that our lives in this world are transitory, that our existence on this planet is not permanent, and that there is something that exists beyond our limited, human understanding. And here is where many people fail to embrace the full power of faith. They do not spend the time looking for God, as they pray to ask for a miracle of some sort, then quickly fade away back into the ways of the world. True healing will not come from a superficial understanding of God and that He is somewhere in the clouds. It is not enough to simply say you believe in Jesus, just as it is not enough to read through the Bible, intellectualize the existence of God, and then put it back on the shelf, like a textbook you will probably never look at again. We need to practice an active faith every single moment of our existence through prayer, reading, acts of love, humility, and other spiritual and church-related activities.

God is omniscient and omnipresent and is well aware of what we feel, think, and do every waking moment of our lives. He knows that evil exists in the world and that bad things can happen to anyone at any moment, whether inflicted or through natural causes. But He did not abandon us to fend for ourselves, as He sent the Holy Spirit as our counselor and guide to help us navigate our way through this life away from the influence of sin, pride, arrogance, pain, suffering, and other things that only bring negativity to our lives. When we engage in kenosis, which is the emptying of ourselves, then through the power of the Holy Spirit we can begin through faith to fear God and follow His will for our lives, to keep Him first, and to be humble, just, and merciful despite our circumstances. With this confidence, we can love and trust in God through Christ, learn to let go of our problems, and give them to Jesus, as painful and shameful as they may be.

It is our faith and love for Christ that brings the remission of sins through forgiveness. No one else will do this for us. One has to carry his cross and learn to walk with Him through faith to deepen their beliefs and experience the release of the deleterious hold of past events. The road to healing is by no means easy, as it can take years to remove the scars of pain and suffering from past mistakes, or as a consequence of things that have happened to us through no fault of our own. But it is with steadfast faith in our walk with Jesus in seeking His kingdom that the suffering will lessen, we will be reinstated, and our lives will be restored through His grace and mercy.

In my personal life, as my faith in God and His Son deepened over time, I felt I had to do something to express my faith and gratitude to Jesus for saving a wretched soul like mine. I, like millions of others, experienced a difficult upbringing, and I was always compelled to reach out to others and help them through their struggles, thereby finding healing as well. Writing was the result. Through His grace and mercy, I elucidated on my wade into the sea of spiritual awareness many years ago in my first book on poetry, then later I moved on to prose as I finally faced and dealt with past pain, one of the main themes that comprise the works in this book.

Writing helped me to release and express those painful memories that assailed my sensitive soul in the deep night. It allowed me to effectively convey through meticulous syntax and diction, and through the opposing stream-of-consciousness style of writing, the pain and trauma I carried with me for many years of my life. It allowed me to say what I wanted to say about my deepest feelings, thoughts, and fears that I am sure people close to me were tired of hearing. In short, writing proved the catharsis I was looking for to help me unearth those things in my life—and by extension, in those of countless other people—that we live with every day of our lives as we seek answers, support, healing, and finally, rest.

The following fictional narratives are based in part on my own experiences and those of people I have known throughout my life. There is some artistic license in the descriptions, diction, and metaphor in some of the events depicted, but many of the scenes described have been based on actual events with the names changed to preserve anonymity. Regardless of the literary techniques employed in the writing, it has been my sincere endeavor to focus on the personalities of the characters as they dealt with crises of faith, family, friendship, pain, suffering, confusion, and other real-life issues that happen to real people, every single day, albeit in this case through narrative accounts. The characters in each of the stories cope with their demons as they struggle to understand and make sense of why things happen the way they do in their lives. They learn to trust in God through their respective circumstances and find the peace, love, and comfort of His grace and mercy.

I sincerely hope that the reader will enjoy these stories and find a little bit of themselves in one or more of the narratives in this book. My aim is for people to suspend their disbelief as they dive into the stories and resurface with the knowledge that however hurt they may feel, low in their self-esteem, or however damaged their emotional quotient may be because of negative events, past trauma, or issues growing up, they can learn to let go of the negativity and rebuild their lives through their belief in Jesus Christ.

We are all a work in process, but it takes courage to recognize that we are damaged and that in our walk with Jesus, true healing can begin in our lives. We are by no means perfect. However, we continue to press on and run the race every single day not for ourselves or our glory, but for our Savior who came down from Heaven and sacrificed Himself at the cross for our salvation.

Best wishes and may the Lord bless you and keep you always.

Your partner in Christ,

Ignacio Haro

The Stories

The Drive to the Airport

44428.png

They arrived at the airport that late summer afternoon to see David off on his flight. It had been a lengthy drive, and not necessarily a happy one. The entire trip was a relatively quiet one, and his family spent most of their time looking at the beautiful, woodland scenery unfolding before them. Basking in the beauty of the landscape was but a dream from which they did not wish to wake. They loathed the fact that the time for departure was eventually to arrive. And it did. He was leaving and they did not know when he was to come back.

David was up early that morning staring with squinting eyes at the pale-white ceiling of his room. The white light of day had arrived and his life was about to change. His mother and father were already downstairs having a rather meager breakfast of coffee and some pastries. Nothing fancy. Just enough to sustain life. They were quiet, except for a few observations of the weather outside or something about the house inside. The home was clean and everything was in its place. There was nothing chaotic about the place, as is usually the case in most homes. David’s mother had spent the last week cleaning and arranging everything about the home, room after room. She was intricate in her cleaning detail, focusing at times on the slightest sight of crumbs on kitchen counters, removing wispy veils of dust on living room furniture, dusting behind bookcases, vacuuming under beds, examining neglected areas behind toilets and sinks; and scrubbing the inside of the refrigerator, discarding those things that she felt were no longer of use to anyone, including food that was stale, moldy, or simply unwanted. The house became a museum, immaculate in cleanliness, organization, and the overall feel that one was not to touch anything but simply observe and remember. All of her diligence was a distraction, of course, from the realization that today would never arrive, but it made its presence known.

David did not go downstairs as he did every morning for the better part of his life, nor did he have coffee or anything to eat. He managed to mumble a good morning, but it was almost inaudible and his presence unnoticed. His parents went about their business in silence. The birds chirped outside as his father took a little stroll about the yard to distract himself and survey the area. Mom read a little article in a magazine. There was not going to be any lunch, even though they barely ate anything for breakfast. The mood was sullen, as David was leaving today. And as much as they did not want to accept that fact, his parents were forced to inhale the air of such an event. After years of raising the child and watching him become a confident young man, the time had come to let him go. And it hurt deep inside, as any parent in a similar situation would agree.

The family drove a distance away from the serenity of the rural side of life to the somewhat chaotic environment that is the city. As they departed from their quiet home in the suburbs that mid-afternoon, they passed the local sites that had a profound impact on their lives. And these were places that were of significance for both parents, but especially for David’s mother. That is not to say that his father did not play an active role in raising David, as he did. But it was his mother who had seen her little boy through some of the more meaningful events in his life. She was there to witness every second of his transformation from a newborn to the young man he had now become. And thus, this trip was to prove even more meaningful to her than anyone else.

The elementary school that always echoes in the reverie of its energetic, sugar-driven denizens was unusually quiet that day. Although the school was in session, there were some children here and there, while others ate at the lunch tables. There were hardly any staff members anywhere to be seen. However, no sound was heard but the whispering wind playing with the leaves in the trees and dancing with the countless blades amid the different layers of playground grass. David looked over and saw how the vacant kindergarten swings were moved slowly by the cold wind as if partaking in the games of the children but without the usual mirth and sometimes miscreant but harmless behavior. The rectangular sandbox in the TK section was devoid of children as if it remained unused. There was displaced sand on the ground outside the box, so David knew the children were there but they did not make themselves known at any time during the moment when he and his family passed on their way to the freeway on their way to the international airport.

His mother recalled in her mind when she dropped him off on his first day of elementary school. He sported a huge backpack, as he was diminutive in frame, but over time he caught up with the others in size and stamina. His mother was teary-eyed that one morning as her little boy was going to be on his own in school and away from her love and protection. It was an instinct for a mother to be emotional about the event, as she was with him every single moment of those few years of his life. She was and would always be his lifeline. But that chilly morning she had to let him go off on his own and enter the world of school and independence. Still, she was optimistic that he was going to be fine, as she had raised him to be strong and he was naturally affable.

Are you ready, sweetheart? she asked him as they arrived at the entrance to the school.

Yes, mommy. I see other kids playing! David observed.

They will be your friends. I think they are in your TK class, she said.

Are you going to stay with me, mommy?

Oh, I wish I could. But you need to attend school by yourself. You will have a good teacher who will help you read and write and learn your mathematics. Oh, and you will have plenty of friends to play with during recess and lunch, she said.

Oh, good! he said rather joyfully.

Are you scared, sweetie? she asked him.

No. I like it so far. May I go join the other kids, mommy?

Of course, honey. First, hug mommy. Remember, I will come pick you up when school ends. I will be right here, ok?

She hugged him and kissed his little forehead.

I love you, sweetie. Have a wonderful first day.

I love you, too, mommy.

She let go of his hand and he walked across the gate of the school entrance. He took a few steps just as he reached where the other kids were playing. He then turned around and lovingly waved bye at his mom. She returned the wave with a slight tear in her eye. Then he went over to say hi to the other boys and as if by instinct, they commenced to play together. His mother saw him interact with the other children, and she knew he was going to be fine. He was going to acclimate to this new environment without any difficulties. With a slight tear in her eye, a silent prayer wishing He watch over him, she turned and silently walked away.

The vehicle kept moving along the different sites of the city, as in a tour. There were many different streets and turns to pass to get to the crowded freeway. Eventually, David’s father drove past the middle school and the only high school in the area. Interestingly, both schools did not look too busy as few students were also in sight. It was eerie to note the silence of the schools since these are sites that are always filled with noise and the presence of kids everywhere. Automobiles were parked in all the staff and student parking lots of the schools they passed, but there was no other evidence of the throngs of students and staff members being present at the sites. There were only the buildings and the empty spaces where students normally convene during school hours.

How odd, David whispered to himself, or at least thought it, concluding they must have passed the schools when classes were in session and they just missed the lunch hour.

His mother secretly glanced over at the high school as they passed it, and she drew a faint smile when she remembered how handsome David looked wearing a suit for graduation. It was a wonderful day to celebrate as he was to attend an excellent university. He had worked hard during those four years in school and achieved a respectable and strong level of academic success. His parents were proud of his accomplishments, and in their eyes, he was the consummate son. He set an exemplary standard of living that his younger brother and sister were to emulate for the rest of their lives. David possessed high intelligence, and he was disciplined, diligent, and kind-hearted. He was perspicacious yet humble, and he was always judicious and respectful when speaking to others. In short, he was the product of a loving, warm upbringing in a home that loved and feared God. And these beliefs were exemplified by David and his siblings in all facets of their lives. All three children were the pride and joy of their loving parents.

The road to the airport seemed unending when they passed the mall where David worked at JCPenney during his senior year of high school and during the summer after graduation. He had begun as a stock boy on the floor, which meant organizing all the clothes, restocking, and general clean-up duties. Because he proved to be diligent and highly respectful to other employees and customers alike, he was promoted to cashier, then assistant manager of the Men’s Section. David was an exemplary employee. There were never any issues with him or his duties. He received several commendations from sundry shoppers whom he dedicated time to help find the right clothes for themselves or as a gift. In short, David was a pleasure to have as an employee, if only for those few months before the commencement of college. But an Indian Summer had descended and it was time to prepare for his university career.

The SUV kept traveling along the scenic route from the suburbs to the choppy byways of the city. And David noted how his father continued to look forward without turning his head neither to the left nor the right. However, he was whispering something to himself. And David noticed him doing this at different points along the drive. What the father said was inaudible, but David was sure he was whispering something to himself. Perhaps he was singing or recalling a conversation, or praying. In any case, David’s father kept it to himself as he kept his eyes forward. The family drove for hours because of heavy traffic and the thought of food came to mind.

Are we going to get dinner on the way back? It would help settle my stomach, David’s mother finally spoke in a low voice.

Perhaps a little something along the highway, unless you want a sit-down place just to ease your mind a bit. Food is good for that sort of stuff. And truthfully speaking, I don’t think I would mind a bit. I saw some good little places on the way, his father explained.

The airport was on the fringes of the city, as it usually is in most urban areas, but they had to drive through the congestion to finally get to it. The city was busy and traversing the different veins of freeway to the airport was a challenge in itself, especially on a busy weekday. But they had to be there by the twilight hours for David to board and depart. After some twists and turns, honk here and honk there, they egressed the chaos of the city and arrived at the vast and busy airport. Every few minutes an airplane would fly out, roaring into the sky; but, it was certainly not as busy as those metropolitan area airports that dotted the country. Here was an airfield that was more personal, intimate, and somewhat serene.

And when they finally did arrive, an air of doubt and melancholy descended upon the cabin of the vehicle that affected the parents even further. They were not happy to be there, and David seemed stoic through it all, not saying anything at all but merely thinking and remembering in his way. He was to leave, and there was no real way around it. David’s father removed the one piece of luggage from the vehicle and together they walked him in silence to the entrance. His family seemed unsure of the entire situation as they moved in uniform, but with great hesitation, toward the check-in section of the airport. His middle-aged father kept his composure and looked straight ahead, occasionally looking in the direction in the sky of the departing airplanes which were few and far in between take-offs. His mother looked at the ground on which they walked, but her semblance gave many indications that she had much to say. His younger brother and sister stayed home with an aunt. Dad and Mom wanted to take David to the airport personally to wish him a safe trip. It was one of those moments between parents and child that is profound in emotion and the stuff of memories for years to come.

David registered his luggage at the check-in, received his boarding pass, and then sat down in the vacant seating area. His parents looked around and they noticed there were other people and families scattered about, but there was an overall mood of melancholy that pervaded the atmosphere of the airport. That is to say, there was no real comfortable furniture nor any lovely images on the walls to help create a blissful, warm environment for those departing to whatever destination they were seeking. David’s father was moved by the shadows on the walls that did not add any vitality to the scene or the overall mood of the situation. Some people sat by themselves looking to the distance out of the large windows, while others walked around in an endeavor to buy time before their flights. It was a cold, colorless environment in which they found themselves. David focused his stare on the floor and did not say anything. Off to the right families were conversing, but there was no mirth present anywhere in the structure. People said goodbye to their loved ones, with a quick or lengthy embrace, and they exited the building while those waiting to board their airplane walked over to the final check-in.

Wake up, son, wake up! Are you ok? his father asked, as David had his eyes closed, seemingly in a trance or another world.

Hum? Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just thinking a bit. Trying to get my mind in gear. That’s all, he retorted in his mind with an air of uncertainty, not being able to speak.

David, sweetheart…how are you doing? Time to wake up! she said to him as she took his tepid hand and held it.

She offered a fake smile as she tried to hold back the tears. It was no easy task for a father and a mother to say goodbye to their eldest son as he readied to leave the home. But this was especially difficult for his mom, and for David to leave was in essence to take a part of her as well. Dad remained a bit uneasy, and deep inside he was an absolute mess, but he needed to portray an air of composure and strength before his wife to be a pillar of support for her and to demonstrate to his son the proper behavior for a man in dealing with these situations.

Are you hungry, son? Do you need anything? The food here is awful, his mother asked.

His mother chuckled a bit when she heard herself say such words, and that seemed to dispel the melancholy mood that surrounded her. She was relaxed a bit realizing that David kept his composure and his positive outlook. She looked at him—studied him—and wondered if David was ready for such a dramatic change in his life without his parents there to help him or support him, as when he was a child. It was an instinct for her to think this, as she nursed him and saw him through every moment of his life. And it all came down to this moment when he would board the airplane to the next stage of his life. It was to be a chapter in the annals of their family that was already recorded by those in the superterrestrial realm. So, it was no wonder that both his mother and father were there to see him off, just like they were there when he first arrived and through every episode of his life.

Just then, the airport speakers called out his flight number and asked the passengers to have their passes ready and begin boarding. There was the chaos of passengers and airport personnel scrambling here and there, but not going anywhere. Both his parents tensed up, and Mom began to tear up even more. Dad then walked over to him and gave him a strong hug, but David could not return the hug.

I’m going to miss you, son, was all he could say as they remained in embrace for a few seconds. Then it was her turn.

I… love… you, my…son, and I’m… going to miss you terribly…, she whispered in broken words that were barely audible.

David did not say anything, but the look on his face told them both that he loved them too. But he could not speak. He felt the air quickly leaving his lungs, not giving him the strength to say anything or continue to hug his mother goodbye. David turned slowly, picked up his bag, and walked over to the check-in. He gave the airport personnel his boarding pass and walked through the sensors. Before he entered the tunnel, he turned back and saw his mother and father enjoined in a side hug. His father was now tearing without ceasing while mumbling words that only He could understand, and his mother was crying as her tears soaked the tissue in her hand. To her, the entire episode was just a bad dream, so to wake from the nightmare she lunged her body forward and reached out for him while inaudibly screaming his name, but her husband somehow managed to grab onto her and pull her back. David heard her voice over all the sound and chaos of boarding and suddenly stopped his soft gait. He looked back at her and with an air of childhood innocence, he lovingly smiled and waved. He heard a still, small voice coming from inside, turned, and disappeared into the tunnel.

The parents remained motionless for a few moments, both praying for their son. Then they mustered the courage to move over to the window where in a few moments they saw the airplane move down the taxiway amongst the discordant movements of the runway personnel and other airplanes trying to find their place in line, and finally position itself for takeoff. His parents stopped breathing as they saw the jet plane sitting on the runway, just waiting for its turn to move and eventually take to the sky. The mother continued to cry without ceasing, and the father worked to undo the difficult knot in his throat, but to no avail. In a sudden roar of the turbine engines, the airplane began to move and gained speed. Suddenly, his mom crashed her semblance onto the large window as she gave out a loud, final cry calling out her son’s name at the moment the plane lifted off the runway and soared into the sky. There was nothing she could do to stop it. It was too late. It was gone, and David was in it. The other people in the airport heard her scream but failed to turn or acknowledge her interruption of their moments of silence with their families. David’s father remained rigid and motionless, and they both continued to cry to see the airplane enter the realm of the sky and disappear into the orange-hued cumulus clouds.

He soberly pulled her away from the large window and they held hands as they turned and slowly walked toward the exit, past the tunnel.

As they got to the car during the twilight hours, he helped her into the vehicle as she could not find the strength to do it herself. He was a dutiful man and he gently lifted her and secured her in the front seat. He secured her seatbelt over her lap and slowly closed her door. He walked around the back of the SUV and looked up at the scene before him. The dull, grey hospital looked busier now, as more people arrived and many more left. Ambulances crowded the emergency entrances, and the wail of sirens was heard in the distance as more made their way there. The overall scene was a busy one, but controlled.

He looked up at the blue sky once again hidden behind the thick, puffy clouds that were hanging from an unseen ceiling in the hope of locating the airplane that departed earlier, but to no avail. It was nowhere to be seen. It had disappeared amongst the serene clouds in the heavens high above, beyond the capacity of human knowledge and reason. He turned and got into the driver seat, clicked his seatbelt, and waited a few minutes as more and more tears flowed from his stinging eyes. After some time, he regained his senses and turned on the car and headlights. Slowly he backed out of his parking spot and made his way out of the congested lot. And after a series of turns, he made his way to the entrance of the freeway. He looked over at his wife who remained motionless and appeared dead, but he knew that was from the emotional exhaustion of seeing her son go. She was silent but for the tears and gentle sighs that landed as mist on her window. His eyes freed more tears as