Lost: Casa Perdida [Completed]

Los Gringos

The Narrator

Afternoon

Eustacio Bienvenida was toiling on his farm. His brow was drenched in sweat. The old man was scrawny yet strong. He was digging a pit to bury a dead rabbit that he had killed. He was very glad to be living where he was living; for, he was living in the North-Western part of Argentina - a region unperturbed by the cold spells affecting the south of the country. In the middle of the vast expanse of the golden fields rose a humble, yet beautiful farmhouse. There were children - Eustacio's grandchildren who had come cover from Buenos Aires - sitting outside the house glued to their cellphones. Children these days! Always slaves to their phones! He continued digging, after pausing for a moment to look at his grandchildren. He had promised to take them down to the river which bordered the property for fishing that afternoon. Eustacio wanted to be a good example to his grandchildren. He gave them his word that that afternoon he would take them to the river in order to go fishing. Because he gave them his word, no matter what, he will take them there. He was a happy man, content to live on his farm. He farmed to keep himself occupied, not because he had a lack of anything. During his youth, the days of his strength, he used to be a teacher teaching at a local school in the city three hundred kilometers away. Now, after he had retired, he resorted to the farm. He was a proud father. His two sons became renowned entrepreneurs in Mar Del Plata. They made him proud. When he thought of them, he smiled at the thought that investing in his sons was a fruitful venture indeed. His two daughters married into powerful families in Paraguay. All his children, being faithful, sent him allowances every month, in spite of him telling them not to do so because his farm was producing sufficient income for him and his wife.

His gun was on the ground beside the spot where he was digging. Life on the farm was for the most peaceful, but peace never negates the need for a gun. The region where his farm was was sparsely populated. It was almost walled off from civilization and practically the rest of Argentina by a rang of tall, almost unscalable mountains. The closest police station was in a town among the many little hamlets that dotted the other side of those unscalable mountains. That town was a one-day journey away by car and a 12-hour hike on foot. The ragged surface of the mountains made it difficult for the Argentinian government to construct roads that connected Eustacio's region Blencojo with the hamlets and towns on the other side of the mountains. It was this distance from law enforcement that required the inhabitants of Blencojo to have weapons. Even though the region was quiet, Blencojo's tiny population of inhabitants ran the risk of thieves, wild animals, and narcoterrorists. Two years ago a Bolivian narcoterrorist gang sailed down the Princesa Irene river into Argentina and had landed in Blencojo. If Blencojo's inhabitants did not have weapons, the gang would have robbed them, and possibly kidnapped their women. However, because Blencojo's inhabitants were armed, they resisted this narcoterrorist invasion, killing all of the narcoterrorists. After that incident, the region has been peaceful. Nevertheless, the inhabitants never failed to be vigilant, keeping an eye out always for possible dangers.

"Grandpa! Grandpa! It's time," said Eustacio's youngest granddaughter. She tugged at his overalls. She told Eustacio that it was time for him to take her and her siblings fishing, as he had promised.

Eustacio smiled when he saw his granddaughter MariaRosa. He dropped his spade and lifted her in his arms. She hugged him. "I will, my love."

Just as he carried her, his wife, MariaRosa's grandmother, came with a tray of lemonade.

"Go on! Grandma's brought some lemonade," he told MariaRosa after planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Yay! Lemonade!" exclaimed the little, adorable soul as she ran to her grandmother to grab a glass of lemonade after being put on the ground by her grandpa. She gulped down the glass she took and told her grandmother, "I want more." Her grandmother poured more lemonade into her glass.