Camina Hacia El Futuro Novels & Stories

My future. I look at the bags. The letter. The tomorrow that's waiting. And I know what I need to do. I'm ready.

The bus pulled out quickly from the station. His expression twisted as he rushed to the ticket counter, shouting, "Who was the woman that just got on that bus?"

Maya's future self reached out and took her hand, leading her through the ever-changing landscape. "We are walking through the threads of time," she said. "We are seeing the possibilities that lie ahead." Maya's mind reeled as she tried to comprehend the vast, intricate web of possibilities that lay before her. Her future self smiled, as if she could see the wonder in Maya's eyes. "You have the power to shape your own destiny," she said. "You have the power to choose your own path." As they walked, the landscape grew more vivid, more real. Maya saw glimpses of her own future, glimpses of the challenges and triumphs that lay ahead.

I can’t change the future, but I can choose to move forward. That thought, and the thought that there will eventually be something better just ahead in my future. I just have to make it through this, so I can continue to propel myself forward until I reach my eventual happiness. Eventually, I’ll get there, right? I mean, all the horrible, shitty things I have to endure and go through will eventually stop right? Right? ‘You should tell our mate that I’m awake for good now. I really want to meet my mate!’ Back so soon!

A lesson she had bitterly learned. Now she must move forward, however much the past sought to suck her back into its tempting, deceitful power. Going forward was the only way. The future ahead was the only possibility. A good future, a satisfying future, a challenging future, and an ordained future. The one she had always assumed would be her life, her work.

For the future I wanted. Who's the prey anymore can't be said, right?

"Let me ask something else. When you think about your future, about years from now, what do you see?" I close my eyes. Try to picture it. "I see Mira. Growing up. Laughing. Learning. Being loved." "And who's with you? In that future?" I open my eyes. "I don't know. Sometimes I see Damon. Sometimes you. Sometimes Caius. It keeps changing." "That's the problem, isn't it? You can see a future with any of us. Can't narrow it down." "Yes." "Then let me help." He takes my hands. "Close your eyes again. Picture this. It's five years from now. Mira's running around. Playing. Being a kid. You're watching her. Who's beside you? Don't think. Just feel. Who's there?"

The move will take time, but for the first time in a long time, we’re looking toward the future. A future built on unity, survival, and the memory of those we’ve lost.

The past behind us isn’t baggage. It’s ballast. It keeps us steady as we imagine. And imagining together—without pressure, without illusion—is its own kind of intimacy. As this chapter closes, I understand that the future doesn’t demand certainty. It invites participation. And staying means saying yes to that invitation—not because we know exactly where it leads, but because we trust who we’re walking with. Forward doesn’t require a map. It requires alignment. And we have that. Quietly. Firmly. Together.

" But then they went on. We fight for our future. As I nodded, my intuition guided me to leave with the intention of leaving at dawn. Long walk, cloudy air. The feeling was that there wasn't a single thing that could bring it any closer. Every move felt like a trial.' Each moment, a small chance to secure the future of our nation.