WHERE IS SIRIUS?

Where Is Sirius?

Chapter 1: The Night the Sky Went Quiet

He couldn’t sleep.

For the twentieth time, Jorge muttered, — “It’s way too hot.”

The sheets clung to his skin, sticky and heavy, so he pushed open the window, hoping for a breeze.

Jorge whispered, — “Wait... where’s Sirius?”

His favorite star was nowhere to be seen. It always shone like a lighthouse, guiding him through the ache he felt for me. I had passed away months ago. Well — my name was also Sirius. I was his best friend. Ever since I left, that star comforted him. It was as if I were still there, watching over him. And in a way, I was.

I had been there through every season. But now, in the stifling heat of summer, I had vanished. And Jorge felt the loneliness settle over him once more.

Jorge murmured, — “I can’t sleep. Where are you, Sirius?”

He tiptoed downstairs, barefoot and shirtless. He slipped quietly through the back door. The grass beneath his feet was warm — almost alive — like an electric blanket left out under the sun.

He wandered into the field behind our house. The night felt strange—motionless. The cicadas buzzed loudly, as if heralding something important. Grief weighed heavy on his chest. More than ten years together. He repeated the same words, like a prayer:

Jorge said, — “I can’t sleep… Sirius… where did you go?”

He sprinted across the grass, past the yard, over the fence. His body was drenched in sweat, but his heart felt cold, searching the sky for his brightest star. It had always been beautiful—now it seemed swallowed by the void.

He recalled all the times he searched for me around the neighborhood. I’d get into mischief: licking shoes, stealing sandals, running off with socks in my mouth. He would call my name, and I’d appear, grinning like it was all just a game. Now, under that empty sky, it felt like the same kind of search — but this time, it was the star he longed for. And deep down, it was the same kind of longing.

Then Jorge stumbled over a root and fell. Everything went dark.

He awoke to something wet and warm licking his face. The sun was rising, bathing his feet in golden light. And I was there, licking him awake. Yes, Jorge — I had come down to spend the summer with you.

Jorge opened his eyes and froze, staring at me as if I were some kind of creature from a dream. But I was there — a silver, glowing being with eyes as vast as the universe, watching him like a celestial dog.

Jorge asked, — “Who are you? Why are you glowing? Why does everything feel cooler?”

I said softly, — “I’m Sirius. Your dog. Don’t you remember me? I came to bring you some relief in this suffocating summer.”

Jorge exclaimed, — “You’re... Sirius? Sirius?! It’s really you? How are you here?!”

I stepped closer, flickering between visible and invisible, and said gently, — “It’s me, Sirius. I came to visit.”

Jorge backed away, heart pounding, eyes wide. But then, a voice echoed from afar and pulled him back from that unreal moment.

Jorge’s mother shouted, — “Jorge?! Jorge, where are you?!”

Jorge turned toward her. Morning light sliced through the trees. He hesitated — caught between running toward her or staying with me.

But Jorge ran, across the fence and field, as if the wind pushed him. And I ran after him.

I called out, — “Wait, Jorge! It’s me, Sirius!”

On the porch, his mother stared at me in shock. But to her, Jorge was running alone. I was invisible to everyone. I had come only for him.

Jorge rushed into the house, slammed the door, and threw himself onto the bed, trembling.

Jorge shouted, — “Get out of my room!”

I climbed slowly onto his bed and said, — “Remember that winter at your grandma’s? You were afraid of thunder. We curled up together, and you said, ‘As long as you’re here, nothing will scare me.’”

Silence settled — thick and heavy. The blanket shifted. His tear-streaked face appeared. He looked into my glowing eyes. And for the first time that night, the loneliness receded. He knew I had returned.

Chapter 2: The Days I Made Summer Worthwhile

The heat was relentless, melting the days away into a blur of shimmering sunlight. And me? I thrived in the chaos of those scorching hours — especially because water was my greatest delight.

With my silver, glowing form—visible only to Jorge—I became the spirit of summer on that still, windless street. Together, we had a secret mission: to drench everything and everyone without being caught.

It all began when the neighbor watered his flowers. I slipped over quietly, with Jorge watching from behind the fence. Since Mrs. Odete couldn’t see me, I turned the hose toward the clothesline.

Mrs. Odete gasped, — “What on earth? My clothes are soaking wet! But the hose just moved on its own!”

Jorge feigned surprise, while I laughed silently, tongue out, soaked but guiltless.

The next day, I waited patiently for Mr. Genésio to pedal through a puddle. Just as he crossed, I leapt into the water and soaked him head to toe.

Mr. Genésio exclaimed, — “How did I get so drenched in that puddle? I’ve been cycling here for decades!”

Later, at the market, Jorge and I wandered among the fruit stands. When I reached for the apples perched on top of the boxes... poof! I knocked everything down. The vendor jumped back, baffled by the sudden chaos.

Jorge shrugged and said, — “Must have been the wind.”

We laughed together all day, our joy so pure that Jorge nearly forgot his star was missing from the sky that summer.

Back inside the house, Jorge’s mother remarked,

— “Jorge... it feels cooler in here today. Almost like summer is finally ending.”

Little did she know, it was me, Sirius, with my shimmering body, cooling the air and soothing the heat.

Our daily adventures stretched from streams to fields to quiet street corners. But gradually, Jorge began to attract strange looks. People thought he was talking to himself. His mother grew worried.

One afternoon, she asked, — “Jorge... is someone with you?”

Jorge smiled and replied, — “It’s Sirius. He turned off the lights in the sky just to visit me. Look, Mom! Sirius isn’t in the sky anymore because he’s here with me!”

His mother nodded thoughtfully and said, — “The star Sirius doesn’t appear in the northern hemisphere’s summer because it’s too close to the Sun during this time, making it invisible to the naked eye. They call it the Dog Star because it’s the brightest in the Canis Major constellation. But it’ll be back soon.”

Chapter 3: The Last Night

It was the final night of summer.

The air hung heavy, still and silent. The usual chorus of cicadas had faded away, as if the world itself were holding its breath. Jorge and I lay side by side on the cool grass, staring up at a sky slowly shifting from deep navy to the first pale hints of dawn.

The stars twinkled softly, but I shone brighter than ever. My silver glow spread gently, illuminating the blades of grass, the leaves above us, and the sleeping village beyond. The light was warm and soothing—a quiet reminder of everything we had shared.

Jorge was unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on the vast sky. I wished I could tell him it was my last night with him, to prepare him for the inevitable goodbye. But the words stayed locked inside me, heavy with the sorrow of parting.

After a long silence, Jorge turned toward me and whispered, — “If you’re here, Sirius… does no one else see you?”

I smiled softly and answered, — “No. Only you, Jorge.”

He sighed deeply and asked again, — “So... you’re not shining for the others?”

“No,” I replied gently. “Only for you.”

His voice grew even softer, full of yearning. — “I wish everyone had a star... someone to light their darkest nights and keep them safe.”

The world around us seemed to pause, the night stretching like a fragile thread holding a delicate dream together. Jorge closed his eyes and soon fell asleep, his breath slow and steady.

While he dreamed, my light grew stronger and more radiant. Slowly, I began to rise, my glow spreading across fields and rooftops, bathing the village in a soft, golden hue. It was my farewell—a promise that no matter where I went, I would remain near.

Jorge’s mother and the neighbors awoke to the strange light glowing outside. They hurried to the windows and then outdoors, curiosity and worry mingling on their faces.

“Jorge?! Where are you?!” his mother called, her voice trembling.

But I had already slipped away, drifting like a breeze through the trees and up into the sky.

They found Jorge peacefully asleep on the grass, barefoot and shirtless, wrapped in the gentle light of early autumn.

Chapter 4: When the Stars Shine Again

The next morning, I was gone.

Jorge awoke in his bed, soft morning light filtering through the curtains, painting the room in gentle shades of gold and pink. The house was quiet and still—unusually calm for a Sunday morning.

He sat for a moment on the edge of the bed, memories of the night before swirling through his mind. The last light. The farewell. The promise.

Slowly, Jorge rose and went downstairs. In the kitchen, his mother was preparing breakfast, humming a soft tune. She looked up as he entered, her eyes warm but filled with concern.

“Jorge,” she said gently, “what were you doing out in the field yesterday? Do you remember that strange light last night? I saw something rising into the sky... it was strong, and it frightened me. When I looked closer, you were there, lying on the grass.”

“I don’t remember,” he replied.

Days passed, and life returned to its usual rhythm, but for Jorge, nothing felt quite the same. The silence left by my absence was deep, yet sometimes he felt a comforting presence.

One night, alone in his room, he sensed a sudden coolness filling the space, even though I wasn’t visible. He looked out the window at the stars—then noticed one shining brighter than the rest. The Dog Star pulsed with a quiet, steady light.

Jorge smiled, his heart lighter.

“You’re still here,” he whispered. “You always will be.”

In the days that followed, Jorge began sharing stories about me with his friends, spreading the magic and comfort I had brought to his life. His tales made others gaze at the night sky with wonder, searching for their own stars.

At school, Jorge’s mother noticed the change too. The quiet, withdrawn boy was slowly opening up, his eyes shining with hope and memory.

One afternoon, on his way home, Jorge spotted a group of children playing beneath the warm sun. A little girl hesitated at the base of a tree, her face shadowed by fear.

Jorge approached and said softly,

“I know what it’s like to be scared. But remember what I told you—as long as you have your star, nothing can frighten you.”

The girl smiled shyly and glanced upward, as if searching for her own guiding light.

Jorge felt a quiet joy, knowing that although I was gone from his side, the light of our friendship still shone—strong, eternal, and full of hope.