The Pebble Room

I was only eleven years old when I was given the worst news of my life, although I still lacked the proper mental maturity to be aware of it.

My mother had died in an accident, when the bicycle that took her every day to open the doors of her flower shop in the city centre was brutally rammed by the Range Rover Evoque of a driver intoxicated by the treacherous favours of alcohol and drugs who, of course, ran away.

My father's mind, seized by the shadow of the sinister one and whipped by the impossibility of forgiving the murderer of his soul mate, decided that the most sensible thing would be to run away as far as possible, forgetting that love story with such a tragic ending and the fruit of it: myself.

So it was my paternal grandmother, the charitable soul, who decided to take care of me.

I crossed the threshold of the large dark oak door that crowned the entrance to her huge house in the mountains. The bright colours of the stained glass window that adorned its centre contrasted with the black colour of the wood.

The house was practically isolated, being an hour away from the nearest town, limiting its company to the wild nature and protected by the celestial vault.

My grandmother was cheerful, funny and friendly. I, in contrast, was shy, quiet and so introverted. My mother's death plunged me into a strange macabre dream that accompanied me both day and night, and the feeling of unreality became a shadow that accompanied me when I woke up and seemed to give me a break when I went to sleep. 

The day after I arrived at the house, my grandmother kindly asked me to help her clean the pool, claiming that the summer season was approaching, thus trying to distract my mind and help me return to my childhood soul, which seemed to have been reduced to ashes.

That first week was spent adapting to my new home. We adapted the pool, helped my grandmother to cook and clean, read some chapters of "The Five and the Treasure of the Island", watched movies, ate popcorn and went down to the village to do the shopping. Really, I was happy with her and she was happy with me, for her every word was enveloped by an intoxicating aura of affection. We were building the foundation of a small but happy family.

The second week, he gave me a soccer ball and I decided to go outside and play with it for a while.

I was skirting the house, absorbed in the movement of my feet as the ball passed from one foot to the other, when I saw the door.

Located on the back façade, it had been painted the same color as the wall, making it difficult to see with the naked eye.

Of course, my curiosity dragged me like a magnet there and I lifted the small bolt that kept it sealed. A few steps down the stairs welcomed me when I opened the door. I peered out, trying to catch a glimpse of something in the darkness which increased the further down I tried to take my sight. I looked for a switch which I soon found, and a "click" turned on a light bulb which hung down the middle of the stairs.

I started to go down slowly. The steps creaked with every step I took, as if they were crying out in ungrateful welcome. But that dismal sound of crunching wood did not dampen my insatiable curiosity to find out what was under the floor of my grandmother's house at the end of that curious uneven passage. I felt like the hero going into a dangerous cave, looking for a treasure hidden by some lame, bearded pirate.

When I got to the bottom, I could see that a corridor continued where there were several boxes piled up on the right, while on the left only a metal door could be seen. I took a look at the boxes and saw that they contained only tins and cans of preserves, sacks of flour and corn, and the odd bottle of wine.

My disappointment came when I saw that there was nothing of interest in that hidden cellar. And then I fixed my gaze on that door. I approached and grabbed the handle, but when I tried to open it I couldn't, it was completely locked from the outside. I banged on the door with my fist a couple of times and only the echo answered me.

The impending question of why Grandma would have taken so many precautions with the safety of that room stuck in my mind, of course, but the reasoning that one can have at eleven years of age brought me back to reality. "More food," I thought, remembering that Grandma only went down to shop once in a while, and she stored a lot of it to avoid unnecessary trips.

She would probably lock it up to protect it in case of thieves or even animals.

I decided to get out of there and look for my grandmother to clear up that doubt. I had already placed my right foot on the first step when a screeching noise startled me.

It sounded like someone or something dragged a piece of furniture behind that door into the room. I just stood there at the bottom of the stairs, not turning around. I waited a few thousandths of a second for such a noise to be repeated, but it did not happen. I turned on my heels and crept to the door. I waited. I heard nothing but the singing of the birds outside. I put my left ear to the door. Nothing. I looked at my feet. A faint yellowish light was streaming under the door. I decided to bend down and look underneath. I had just rested my left knee on the floor when something small rolled out of the room, under the door and collided with my slipper. I felt my heart racing in my chest as I jumped backwards, bumping into the boxes. I looked, I'll never know if out of curiosity or instinct, down to see what had rolled into me.

It was a small pebble.

I ran up the stairs in a panic.

When I told my grandmother what had happened in that strange basement discovered by chance, she answered with a loud laugh and blamed the disturbing event on rats or even a ferret that had snuck in. Regarding the contents of the room, he didn't give me many details, he simply assured me that it was a storage room where there were antiques that he was thinking of selling to some collector on the Internet.

—I like to lock it up— she said, —because I wouldn't like to have my stuff stolen. I know some of that furniture has value.

The next morning, an emerging adventurous spirit that I had not known before forced me to go down those stairs again. To my surprise, I found the outer door slammed shut from the outside. I pulled on it with all my might and forced the knob several times, but there was no success. I gave up and decided to forget all about it by taking a bath in the pool.

The same day, after eating, I helped Grandma clear the table and went up to my room to rest for a while. I fell asleep and I don't know what time it was when a sound outside woke me up. I looked out the window and saw Grandma pass by with a couple of bags. I watched her until she turned the corner of the house and then I ran down the hall, where another small oval window looked out just where she should be passing by at that moment. When I looked out, I saw her standing right underneath. She had left her bags on the floor and was looking for something in her trouser pocket.

She took out a key and put it in the lock of the camouflaged door which, although I could not see it from my position, I knew was just below the window from which I stood, lurking like a vulture.

The lock gave way, grandmother opened the door, took the bags and went in, closing behind her. I heard the slight sound of the old wood creaking as I descended those stairs, until at last it was camouflaged by the noise outside.

There was really nothing interesting in that gesture. I assumed that the contents of the bags would be more food to store in the boxes, yet the uncertainty wrapped itself around my neck like a snake. I needed to open that metal door.

That night, as Grandmother slept, I slipped like a ninja into her room and stuck my thin fingers into the pockets of the trousers I had worn that day, now inert on the chair in front of the dressing table. There was the key! But no matter how hard I looked, I could not find the one that would open the metal door. I decided to cease my search and leave the room, for Grandmother would wake up if she continued to make noise, rummaging through her things.

I went outside. The cool night air from the mountain flooded my lungs. The song of the crickets included a perfect melodic composition for that landscape before my eyes. The wind swayed the branches of the trees gently, and at the top the full moon gave me enough visibility to walk without using a flashlight. It was summer, but the temperature there was low enough to make the hair on my arms stand on end. I stride around the house and reach the door. I put the key in the lock and could open it without any difficulty.

I preferred not to give the light in case grandmother got up and saw her from a window.

I walked slowly down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible.

There were still the boxes piled up on the right and the metal door, which was locked tightly.

I moved my face closer to the door and glued my ear. Nothing. I raised my right fist and tapped the metal three times. There was no immediate response. After a few seconds, however, something moved inside the room.

I clearly heard the sound of the springs of a bed base and how someone was standing on the mattress and putting their bare feet on the wooden floor.       

It was clear that someone was there.

I waited with my ear still on the door. Whoever was on the other side hesitated for a few moments, probably sitting on the mattress, and then finally got up and started shuffling to the door.

I took a couple of steps away. My heart was pounding.

There was someone right behind that door, just a few inches away from me. He stood motionless, as if waiting for me to take the first step.

—Hello...? —I whispered in a trembling voice.

No one answered. This being was still there, unmoved. I knew for certain that it was standing behind the door, for I had not heard it move again. I decided to insist.

—Who are you and what are you doing locked up in there?

Again, my question was left up in the air. I advanced very slowly to the door and put my ear back on the cold metal. I concentrated as much as I could, trying to ignore the outside sound of the crickets and the swaying of the tree branches. I could not hear anything coming from the other side... until, seconds later, something activated my senses.

Air, coming and going. Someone was breathing behind the door. But it was abnormal breathing, like a gasp. It became more and more audible, more and more intense. It seemed to be getting closer to the place where my face was stuck. I could clearly hear that breathing on the other side of the metal, at the level of my ear, it was very intermittent. The sound was very similar to that of a dog sniffing... was it trying to smell me?

Then a groaning bronco behind the door frightened me so much that I jumped backwards and stood by the boxes. I bent down and put my arms around my legs, crying with fear. The man or woman behind the door, who seemed to have identified me as an intruder by the smell of my body, began to utter a symphony of agonizing howls, similar to the cry of someone undergoing horrible torture. He pounded hard on the door several times with his fists. My heart was pounding with each of those blows against the metal. He grabbed the handle and began to move it sharply, up and down, pushing the door with the weight of his whole body. Fortunately for me, he didn't give in.

I was still petrified in the same position, cowering above myself, under the cover of the boxes. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and I felt my pants getting wet, right in the crotch.

Somehow, I managed to awake from that sporadic trance which terror had caused in my brain, and I rose quickly to my feet, hitting one of the boxes with my elbow in the process.

A sack fell from the top of the pile of boxes, opening up and letting a pile of pebbles flow out of it. The whole floor was covered with those little pebbles. I ran up the stairs like a devil's soul, while behind the door it continued to tear its throat out with every scream.

I didn't stop running until I reached my room, where I got into bed crying my eyes out and shaking with fear. I saw a light come on in the corridor, followed by some light steps that went up the stairs. Grandma went downstairs. She probably would have heard those awful screams coming from the basement and was heading there.

I closed my eyes and struggled to fall into a deep sleep from which I could not wake up until the next morning.

Grandmother gently woke me up. It was cloudy and hardly any light came through my bedroom window. It took me a few seconds to react, remembering what I had experienced that night.

—Grandma! —I exclaimed. —Who's down there?

She looked down at her hands, which rested on her lap.

—Don't worry about that, son—she said with a small smile, —it's nothing to worry about, but you'd better not go near it again.

—Grandma, don't say that. Whatever it is, it must be dangerous. It scares me. I think, if I'd managed to open the door last night, I would have hurt myself without hesitation...

The tears come to my eyes. The memory of that terrifying pack of screams and blows on the metal made my blood run cold.

—Nothing will happen if you stay away, really...— she insisted in despair.

—Grandma, I can't live here with that under the house! What is it? A wild animal or a lunatic?

The woman put her hands to her mouth and began to sob.

—I'm afraid —she said at last, —that what's underneath is both, dear.

I felt my heart turn over. I was speechless. My mind was unable to come up with a logical theory to justify Grandma locking a monster in the basement...

She got up and went to her room. She returned immediately with a red folder in her hand. She sat down next to me and opened it, showing me a series of papers that she kept inside.

—The one downstairs— she began, —is my son Gabriel, your father's older brother.

I watched her in total bewilderment.

—He has a severe disorder of schizophrenia and bipolarity. Ten years ago, there was a... mistake. He has always been with me at home, I have taken care of him since he was born, because his illness prevents him from being independent. I had to go to Madrid for work and left him in the care of a nurse for a couple of days. However, Gabriel is very selective with people and does not allow anyone to come near him... She tried to give him his medication and he... attacked her —she started crying inconsolably. —He stuck his fingers in her eyes so hard that he took them out, left her eye sockets empty... He could have killed her. She groped away, screaming in terror, and the neighbours came to her aid. After that, Gabriel was condemned to spend the rest of his life in a psychiatric facility, but I refused. I couldn't let my son end up locked up for life. I thought I could take care of him... And then I claimed he had run away. I hid him at a good friend's house and after a few months I moved in with him. Everyone thinks he's missing, including your father.

I was shaking. I felt like I was part of a horror movie.

—Come with me. If you come down with me, he won't be scared. He's not going to hurt you. Let me show you that our life can go on as well as it has. He won't bother us.

He stood up and pulled my hand. I, who at that moment felt more like an automaton than a human, gave in. She guided me down and when I started to be aware of reality, we were already by the camouflaged door. 

—Grandma! —I shouted, pulling back.

—Trust me! —she pleaded. —He won't hurt you!

Although I was terrified, something in me urged me to follow her. At last I would see that room that was attracting my attention.

And I followed her downstairs.

She tried to make as little noise as possible and I imitated her. We stood in front of the metal door. I hid behind my grandmother. She pulled out a chain around her neck, which she hid behind her clothes, from which the key hung. He put it in the lock and turned it.

She slowly pressed the handle down and the door began to open in front of me. Something hit the bottom edge of the door and squeaked a little. I soon realized what it was. The whole floor was dotted with pebbles, small and white. The room was dark, only a small lamp illuminated the room. A stinking smell hit me right in the nose.

There was no other furniture than a bed in the corner, a small table where the lamp rested and a chamber pot, all tucked away between four white, padded walls.

And, on the bed, that individual remained seated. He wore green pyjamas and was completely absorbed in something he held in his hands. Grandma came over and I stood in the doorway.

She put one hand on his shoulder and he reacted suddenly, letting go of what he was handling. Then I saw that what had just rushed out of his hands was more pebbles.

—It's his greatest entertainment— explained grandmother as if she had read my thoughts, —I bring them to him from the river. He tells them over and over again...

That's when she told him about me.

—That boy is Juan José... he's very good and he's your nephew...

And he turned his head abruptly, staring at me with his alienated gaze. His eyes were disproportionately large, and so prominent that they seemed to be about to pop out of their sockets. His face, furrowed with remarkable wrinkles, was thin, with protruding cheekbones. His nose was aquiline and his mouth had horrible yellowish deformed teeth. He stood up, not taking his terrible gaze off me. He was thin, to the point of touching anorexia. He began to move towards my position. I stepped back. Grandma put her hand on his shoulder trying to stop him.

—Be careful, Gabriel, he's very young. Don't scare him!

That sick man's eyes seemed to light up with every step he took towards me. A strange shadow of fury crossed his face. He was going to kill me, I thought.

Grandmother was frightened and quickly stood in front of him.

—NO! —she shouted.

And that's when it happened.

He grabbed her by the neck so hard that she lost consciousness and fell to the ground. He took the lamp and started hitting her on the head. One, two, three, four, five times. The blood splashed on the white walls. I saw her shattered skull and viscera on the floor.

And I, crying and almost convulsing, grabbed the door and closed it, leaving that terrible scene inside. I didn't have the key, so I just ran upstairs and locked that one too. I ran inside the house and looked for Grandma's phone. I hid in the bathroom, since it was the only room with a lock, and I dialled the number of the police.

They told me that they were coming from the village, an hour away, and would try to be as quick as possible.

That hour was the worst of my life, the longest.

I heard footsteps clumsily climbing up the stairs. It was him. He was looking for me.

I said all the prayers I knew. I covered my ears, crouched between the toilet and the bathtub, trying to pace my breathing to make as little noise as possible.

He made his way to the bathroom door. I could see his shadow underneath. He tried to turn the knob.

I could hear his hoarse panting on the other side. I started to cry. I was short of breath.

New footsteps were heard downstairs. They rushed up the stairs.

—Hey! —shouted a male voice. —Turn around and put your hands up!

But the individual did not seem to hear. He was still determined to open the door behind which I was hiding.

—Hey! —insisted another female voice.

I heard the footsteps approaching. One of the policemen had approached him and I supposed he had tried to grab him because the brainless man had started screaming like mad and there was a great struggle outside. The policeman let out a piercing scream.

—You shot! —he shouted to his partner, —KILL THIS BASTARD!

And a loud shot deafened me.

The one who had been my uncle died that day from a shot in the head. The screaming policeman had lost an ear, for he had bitten it off. They took me away from there and that horrible nightmare ended.

My father came back for me when he heard what had happened.

Yet even today, thirty years later, I still go to a psychiatrist every week because I keep seeing those white pebbles in that wretched room in my worst nightmares.

Energy

Energy is the engine of life,

Water that hydrates the earth,

Seed that germinates in the soul.

 

Energy is the halo that sprays the world,

That circulates through your arteries

And it feeds the eyes of dreamers.

 

Energy is light that embraces the body

Becoming clear on warm days,

Dark in the cold days.

 

Energy that was once poured

In the vast forest of existence

Flowing until the last breath.

 

Energy is what you inspire,

What you feel and cry,

Which wraps up your early morning dreams.

 

Energy is a gift you give,

Warm or cold,

It depends on the day or the moment.

 

And wherever life dances,

Where a heart beats,

Where a wish is born,

There it is, there the energy blooms.

The Chapter Hunter

The Freak

Orange halos of light would sneak in between the small slats of the Venetian blinds that covered the windows of the room.

Pablo took his laptop out of the black case and placed it on the professor's table. He inserted the pen drive into one of the USB ports.

The window emerged immediately, showing five videos stored inside.

The boy sat down in that comfortable office chair in front of the computer and clicked on the first one, thus starting a chain play of all the following ones.

 

VID_0001

He was moving slowly on the sidewalk, shortening the distance between his house and the school. The camera lens recorded the worn-out toe of his white sneakers, emerging in the image one after the other as he walked.

A voice broke the monotony of the sound. The camera turned 90 degrees and focused on a tall, thin, athletically built boy striding down the same sidewalk in his direction.

It caught up with him at once. The camera recorded his perfect, biting smile.

-Hey, freak! -he exclaimed as he gave a resounding pat on his forearm. - Why didn't you wait for me?

-My name is Pablo," he reproached the shy voice behind the camera lens.

The other man's smile turned into a mocking grin. He frowned.

-Hey, don't you think you forgot something?

Paul hesitated and said in a choppy voice, "No."

His interlocutor remained watching him for a few milliseconds with an expressionless face. Then his gaze became enraged and gave a strong jolt to the bearer of the camera, causing the image to sway.

-Are you serious, stupid? Do you know what that's going to cost me? If I don't submit the paper, I'll fail. You better have that job stashed in your filthy geek bag if you don't want me to wait for you on the way out.

-It's your job! -Why do I have to do it for you? You're a bum!

A quick punch knocked Pablo to the ground and the camera was pointed at the pavement.

 

VID_0002

The class was packed. Everyone was talking to everyone. Paul was recording sitting at his desk. The teacher had not yet arrived.

The boy stood up and went to the corner where three girls were chatting happily and laughing with each other. They looked at him with distrust when he reached them.

-Alicia," said Paul, "did you see my WhatsApp?

The alluded one of the three, with dark, wavy hair, scrutinized him with her big green eyes.

-WhatsApp, you sap? -she asked reluctantly.

-The one I sent you yesterday afternoon where I asked if you'd like to go to the cinema with me on Saturday. I know you saw it because the ticks turned blue.

Alicia wrinkled her lips. Her two friends started laughing, covering their mouths. The girl, irritated and embarrassed, turned red.

-Do you think I'd go anywhere with you, you fat fuck? -Get out of here and go to the movies with your freakazoids!

Then she looked at her friends, trying to see that she had fixed the humiliating situation that that wretch had thrown on her perfect person.

 

VID_0003

Break time. All the students are grouped in different areas of the very large playground. They talk, laugh and joke.

The camera captures various daily scenes of this time of day, covering, from a distance, several of these groups of unsuspecting young people.

However, no one seems to approach it. Pablo, camera in hand, enjoys a forced solitude. No one laughs with him, no one jokes amicably about his hair or that T-shirt that has become too small for him. No one shares a snack with him or gives him a conversation about the last match of Real Madrid.

 Pablo is alone.

A boy with coppery and curly hair passes by him. He has a ball under his right arm and a sandwich in his hand. He doesn't seem to see him despite the fact that they are a few centimetres apart.

-Hey, Mario! -Pablo says hello.

Mario stops and hesitates. Finally he turns on his heels and analyzes him with an averted look.

-What do you want, freak? -He answers with apathy.

-Do you need another player?

The other one looks at him from top to bottom before answering his question.

-I'm sorry. I think you should lose weight to play. You'd be in the way...

And that boy runs off, towards another group of impatient students who are waiting for him on the rink.

 

VID_0004

Music Room. Sitting at his desk, Pablo extracts a Spiderman comic from his backpack. He places it on the table and opens it to the first page. Not even five seconds have passed when a sturdy boy with half a blond hair approaches.

-What are you reading? -asks with a sneer.

Pablo closes the comic immediately.

-Nothing. -Answer.

-Aren't you a little old to be reading those kids' comic books? -No.

Pablo doesn't answer.

-I have something more interesting," says the blond.

Then he takes out a magazine from his backpack where a naked woman in a suggestive position stands out on the cover.

-Why don't you take a look? It's much more entertaining than that trash.

Pablo tries to move the magazine away from his table when the teacher enters the class. The blond man laughs uproariously.

-Teacher! -Teacher! -the flame. She focuses her attention on him. -Paul has brought a porno magazine to school!

And Pablo covers his face with his hands. He doesn't try to defend himself. He seems to know it's useless.

 

VID_0005

Walk down the hall, towards the dining room.

Again, he seems to be going alone. On both sides, small groups of students can be seen chatting happily among themselves, oblivious to everything.

There's a redheaded girl leaning against the wall by the dining room entrance.

-Hello, Elena-wave.

-Hello," she says, "how did your English exam go?

-Much better, and you? -I'm fine.

-What do you think? -she exclaims dryly, as if the question had offended her. -Do you think you're better than the others, you freak?

-What? -No! Why do you say that? -Answers Paul in a hurry.

She smiles maliciously.

-It was a joke. Let's go eat.

The girl slaps him on the back.

Pablo enters the dining room and many begin to laugh as he passes by.

-Hey, freak! -Elena calls him from behind. Let's wash the shirt.

Pablo runs to the service and focuses his image in the mirror. As he turns around, he notices a big stain of something brown and slimy on his back.

 

Pablo took his cell phone and opened the camera app. He stood up from that office chair and slowly turned around.

Behind him, on the polished floor of the classroom, five bodies lay side by side, creating a macabre, symmetrical picture. A work of art.

He approached their faces, covered by shredded sacks, and uncovered them one by one.

The camera moved slowly over them, stopping at their now lifeless, static features.

When it had finished its tour of the five dead faces, it returned to the desk and plugged in a cable from the mobile to the computer.

He transferred the last video as the sirens of the police cars began to burst through the cold silence of the room.

The Chapter Hunter

My friend Jose's vacant eyes

The fire in Jose's house had an echo in every corner of the village. It happened in December and, of course, the culprit was a small brazier under the table. What my friend experienced and felt that morning I did not know, but fortunately both he and his mother survived. And that was all I cared about... until recently.

Jose was in the hospital for a week with first- and second-degree burns. His mother had taken the brunt of it, with third-degree burns on her arms, chest and legs.

So, the son left the hospital before the mother and moved into his grandmother's house to continue his studies.

That same afternoon I went to see him with a bag of jelly beans and my best smile. I knocked on the door five times, reproducing that melodic rhythm that characterized my visits. I immediately began to hear the rhythmic footsteps of my friend approaching the door. He stopped behind it, possibly to look through the peephole.

-Jose, it's me. Open up.

There was no response, either physical or verbal.

- Jose, it's Antonio. Open up. I insisted.

Finally, he opened, giving the necessary margin to let himself be seen without allowing me to pass.

-Hello," he mused, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you properly and hardly recognized your voice.

I frowned in amazement at the explanation. I assumed it was a side effect of the medication, or perhaps a symptom of the shock I had suffered. I preferred not to comment.

-Can I come in? -I asked.

My friend opened his eyes wide and nodded energetically, as if my question had triggered a sudden chain reaction in his body. He opened the door and turned away to let me in.

We made ourselves comfortable in the room, and I left the bag of jelly beans on the table. He sat down in front of me with his head down, looking at his feet. I found it abrupt to meet Jose in this way, for he was characterized by his sympathy and his lip, and now he had turned his face away from me.

I was encouraged by the thought that everything would return to normal after a while.

Under the light that flooded the room I could also check his physical condition. There were visible signs on his face, very faint ones, which furrowed the periphery of his face, running from his forehead to his chin. Dark circles under the eyes had obscured his gaze, and small roughness had been born on his forehead. He looked paler, and his skin had lost the glow and evenness typical of youth. He looked older now.

We exchanged three poorly counted sentences; he did not seem very willing to have a conversation with me at the time. His grandmother arrived, coming from shopping, and reproached Jose for not offering me a glass of water. So, I looked at that detail. Where had my friend's hospitality gone?

The next few days passed in such an unusual atmosphere that my level of bewilderment only increased. Jose attended school normally, was punctual and said hello when he came in. However, his behaviour was atypical and unbecoming. He simply sat in his chair, resting his hands on the desk and interlacing his fingers, waiting for the class to begin, with his eyes fixed on the teacher. There were no complicit glances for anyone, not even for me. During the breaks, he would clear his table and begin to trace imaginary shapes with his index finger on the wood, while his empty and inexpressive gaze unconsciously drove away anyone who had thought to approach him.

I asked him every day about his condition. He answered that everything was fine, that I didn't worry. But I knew it wasn't. Perhaps there was a heavy blow to the head during the fire that no one had told me about. Something wasn't working normally in his brain, that was clear.

Nor did he wait for me at the end of school, when before the accident there was no day that he would leave without me. I decided to follow him and saw, to my astonishment, that he was turning onto the road leading out of town, towards the swamp. The first time I thought he would go for a walk, eager to be alone and calm, but when that habit began to repeat itself day after day, it went from worldly to abnormal.

I was beginning to obsess. Instability began to take hold of my mind the moment the unlikely ideas appeared in my dreams and thoughts. That wasn't Jose.

My parents tried to play down the situation, claiming that my friend was going through a difficult phase, that he would get well and go back to his old self.

One day I decided to go directly to his grandmother's house when I left school, intending to wait for him to return from that routine walk in the swamp. I was grateful that I took a snack with me because he didn't show up until midnight. What had he been doing there for so many hours? I hid when he arrived. I didn't want to run into his eyes. I had become afraid of his empty eyes.

During the weekend I didn't call him, I didn't look for him, I didn't want to know anything about him. But on Sunday afternoon, I took my bike and pedalled to the swamp, following the path he took every day. This led me to an area where there was a small abandoned pier. I hid behind some bushes and waited for him to appear. I would finally find out what he was doing there.

It began to get dark. Everything was quiet. I could hear the water murmuring and the hooting of an owl. A rabbit crossed the road. But there was no sign of my friend.

"Fuck it," I thought indignantly. "You didn't feel like walking today?"

I stayed in the same place for a while longer, until my stomach started to rumble, and I took the pack of cookies out of my backpack. I started to eat, trying not to make too much noise while chewing. I was already at the eighth cookie, looking lost in the water somewhere while I was chewing, when a cold and strange sensation shook the back of my neck and ran through my body, making my hair stand up. I turned abruptly and felt my heart trying to leave my throat. There was Jose, right behind me, squatting, stinging my pupils with his. The terror of the moment made me squeeze my hand around the package of cookies, crushing them.

-Tell me," he mused, "what do you expect to find?

His presence made me very uncomfortable. It could be my imagination, but it seemed to give off a muddy, withered, nauseating essence... Suddenly I was aware that I wanted to vomit. I wanted with all my being to stay away from him. I jumped to my feet and stood back. He did the same, without lowering his eyes, without cutting that visual link we had established. The chills took their toll on my body, again and again. I was shaking. What was happening? I was unable to articulate any words, my vocal cords had frozen. I looked for my bike with my eyes, where had I hidden it? I wanted to run away, I regretted having waited for him. I hated him. I wanted him miles away from my living space.

-Get out! -I screamed as I went along trying to find the bike.

Out of the corner of my eye, I checked that it didn't move. He was still static in the same place I left him, now his back was turned. I continued my visual sweep of the area, desperate. Where was the damn bike? Then, a loud splash made me spin automatically on my heels, feeling my heart beating exorbitantly in my chest.

When I looked back, I saw that Jose was gone, and the water on the shore was swirling violently, as if a large stone had crashed into its surface. I felt the terror running through my veins. All I could hear was my agitated breathing and the sound of the water returning to its natural state of calm. Had he really plunged into the swamp? I no longer knew if what I was experiencing was real or, on the contrary, I was going crazy. That's when it happened. I began to sense the movement of the water and how something was coming out of it. I heard it one, two, three, four and even five more times before I turned around. Five solid shapes had just emerged from the swamp and I didn't have the strength to look at them again. Then I noticed one of the wheels of my bike on the ground, behind a tree. I ran towards it while listening clearly to the water making its way between the extremities (or whatever) of those lumps that were walking with great strides towards the shore. When I grabbed the bike and sat down on the saddle, I gathered the courage to look back. And it was the worst thing I could do in my life.

Five tall, very tall silhouettes, about three meters, were approaching me with a determined step. Their bodies resembled a stout human figure, yet there was something very strange about them. Their arms and legs were disproportionately long, and their head was certainly larger than a human head. I did not spend any more time analyzing these beings, since I put my feet in the dust on the road, pedaling as fast as possible in the direction of the village. When I got home I found that I had peed myself.

The next day I didn't go to the institute. I woke up burning up and nauseous. I wanted to stay home, I felt safe there. I wanted to be away from Jose and erase from my mind what I had seen in the swamp. I had a hard-on about remembering him. Two days passed and I didn't leave the house. I got a serious physical illness that I didn't have so that my parents wouldn't force me to go out.

However, in the afternoon, a previously buried courage woke me up and made me go to Jose's grandmother's house.

I would find him and get the truth. I wouldn't leave there without knowing what was going on. It was enough to hide under the covers.

Around 7:00, I rang his doorbell. No one answered. I jumped the gate and looked for an open window. I thought that his grandmother would be very scared if she saw me acting like this, but it was necessary. The little window in the bathroom was open and I slid in. Lucky I was thin. I landed on the white tiles. There was no sound to disturb the calm that reigned in the home. I cautiously walked through the living room, the kitchen, the garage... nothing. I decided to investigate the bedrooms when a guttural, muffled sound caught my attention. It was coming from Grandma's room. The closer I got, the more audible it became.

-Hello? -I called. No one answered.

My body began to tremble. I reached the door, which was ajar, and put my hand on the doorknob. Gently I started to push it. I wasn't sure I wanted to see what was behind it. And then my eyes got bigger and my skin turned pale.

In the half-light I could see Jose's grandmother, who was lying on the bed, panting with a palpable absence of life energy, as if she were struggling between life and death.

-Madam! -Are you all right?

I flicked the light switch and froze. A very long scar ran across his face, from his forehead to his chin. I looked down and saw that there was another scar from his neck to his index finger, and from his thigh to his toes. A nightgown covered her, but I sensed that those scars would continue on the rest of her body. The woman was flailing about on the sheets like a fish out of water. The shaking became violent and I watched in horror as she dug her nails into the mattress.

I took out my mobile phone to call the emergency services. My hands were shaking and the phone fell on the floor. I bent down to pick it up and a sharp blow to the roof took my breath away. I ran into the living room and hid behind the couch. I could clearly make out the sound of rough footsteps on my head. Whatever it was, I was walking on the roof. I tried to relax and get some air. I was dizzy. The footsteps stopped, but were followed by another thud on the driveway pavement. I had jumped and was right outside the door. And then he came in. He was approaching, I could hear his footsteps. He stopped at the door of the hall. He knew I was there, for sure.

He was waiting for me like a poacher. But I wouldn't give it another go. I came out of hiding. Jose analyzed me from the entrance of the hall.

-What did you do to your grandmother? -I don't know. —. I reproached him with a trembling voice, squeezing what little courage I had left.

He turned on the light and walked to the centre of the room, right under the lamp. I noticed that the marks on his face, which I had thought were burns, now looked like scars. He took his fingers to her and dug them into the flesh, one hand on each side of the mark, and began to pull on opposite sides. The scar began to open. I was speechless, I held back the urge to scream. He continued to open the wound, which gradually tore away towards the forehead and chin, until it was completely detached. He held the skin and pulled it forward. But I did not see a sheet of muscle and blood, as I expected. Instead, there was a whitish, translucent, shiny skin. He continued to peel off all the skin from the face and continued with the rest of his body. It ended up peeling off the flesh as if it were coming out of a disguise. That translucent skin figure in the shape of a human began to stretch when he released the flesh of my friend, which fell like an old sack to the ground. A being ten feet tall stood before me, watching me from the height. The most traumatic thing was its eyes, for they were still those of my friend Jose, only they did not fit into that inhuman face, with its enormous head. The thin line that was the lip opened, revealing a toothless mouth through which a long, thin tongue slipped.

A voice echoed in my mind. No one was uttering it, but I could hear it perfectly. It spoke to me, mind to mind.

"It's started already," he whispered. "Your body is eagerly awaited by mine. Be proud, for you are going to take part, like your friend, in something so great that you would never understand. It is time. Millions of years in the depths of this planet and now, it's our turn.

Grandma peeked out in the hall. Like Jose before her, she had lost the humanity in her eyes.

I looked at the being again, knowing that the end had come. The atmosphere turned white. A faint smell of smoke entered my nose. The heat began to heat the room and everything turned red.

Only they remained in my field of vision and were the last thing I saw before I vanished: those empty eyes of my friend Jose.

The Chapter Hunter

Time

That time does not exist, always perceived 

as the ghost that lives 

in a mechanized heart.

Let there be no impatience, for it harbours 

every hint of poisoned uncertainty, 

thrown violently at the heart, 

like a dart at a target.

Let there be no darkness where glowing souls 

can be extinguished, 

nor excessive luminosity capable of blinding 

a measured thought. 

That only the ear exists, capable of hearing 

the echo of a song camouflaged 

in the thickest shadows.

The Circle

April 6th

I woke up abruptly, agitated and panting. My chest went up and down at a rapid pace. There was no doubt that I had suffered one of the worst nightmares of my life. I struggled to remember what I had dreamt, but all that remained in my mind were the remnants of the panic I had caused and which now had me sitting on the mattress, covered in a cold sweat and shivering with fear. I've lost count of the days when this phenomenon is repeated. No matter the moment, every time I close my eyes and fall into the clutches of sleep, it repeats like a movie. It has become a torture that throws me directly into a spiral of insomnia. On the other hand, I'm still in the bloody habit of looking at the other side of the bed. I don't know what I expect to find.

April 7th

I went out, like every morning, for a run in the mountains. I had left my keys, but I didn't come back, anyway, who would want to climb this place? Luckily, I won't have to go down to the village to do the shopping until next week. I don't like people, I'm uncomfortable being observed. I skirted the cabin to take the back trail. Something caught my eye in the field. There was something white, like a drawing on the ground, a few meters from the back of the house. I approached it and saw that it was a large circle, about a meter in diameter. I bent down and felt the material with which it had been drawn. Was it salt? Who had been able to go up there during the night and draw something like that? I decided not to think too much and started my jogging day. 

April 8th

When I left this morning, the circle was still there and it was whiter than the day before. Someone had noticed it by throwing more salt on it. Again I wonder who's going up the mountain and doing that. Surely someone in the village is trying to make fun of me. I don't understand what they have against me. I don't think they like me, even though I hardly talk when I go down to buy. I've gotten angry and erased the circle with my feet. I've been running for over two hours.

9th April

I called the police. The circle's back there. I've been assured they'll question the village until they find the person responsible. They won't leave me alone. 

April 11th 

I couldn't write yesterday because I was thinking all day. Something happened during the morning that I found quite curious and to which I find no explanation. I went out to hang out my clothes and I heard a knock on the back. At first, I thought it was an animal. I turned the corner of the cabin and saw something very strange. Again, there was the circle, but there was something inside it. I can't be sure what I saw, because it was a fuzzy shape, like a kind of mist that seemed to sway in the wind. It vanished right away, I didn't have time to take a picture with my cell phone.

April 12th

The police called this afternoon to tell me there's no one in town who knows anything about my case. The circle keeps turning up every morning, so there's someone coming up here to go over it. No one wants to help me. I think even the police are making fun of me. 

April 13th

I got them! In the early morning I went to the window in the corridor to have a cigarette, because I had woken up again to one of those horrible nightmares. I saw him sneak up on me. It was a fine, hooded figure. I waited in silence and watched as he took a small sack from the salt pocket. I let him complete his purpose, and when he went around the whole circle and was about to leave, I shouted at him from my position on the second floor. He looked up at me and ran. I did not have time to catch him, but at least I have already checked that I am not crazy and that the hand of the man is behind this phenomenon.

April 14th 

The person who was going upstairs didn't come back last night. He knows I'm waiting for him and he's probably scared. I was there all night and didn't leave until dawn. I smoked a whole pack of cigarettes while I was on duty. 

April 15th 

Today, while I was preparing the meal, something very disturbing happened to me. I heard three knocks behind my back, as if someone were knocking on the front door. I went out to open the door, but no one was there. I looked in all directions, but saw nothing. I thought I had imagined it and went back to the kitchen. Then a loud noise startled me. It was coming from the entrance. I ran over there. The door was open and had been pushed so hard that the glass in its centre had broken. The doorknob had made a hole quite deep in the wall when it hit. There was no wind, and there was no one outside either. Whoever it was had hidden. I shouted and went around the cabin looking for the person responsible. I was furious. Does this look like a joke to you? 

April 16th 

Tonight, the joker who busted down my door has been singing under my window. Or rather, I should say "funny", for it was a woman who sang. I got up and took the shotgun I keep under my bed. I shouted at her to stop and that she was armed. When I looked out the window, she was already gone. I called the police again. 

April 17th 

I think I'm going to go crazy. This morning I found the whole bathroom floor covered in scratches. I can't believe that woman was inside my house. The police won't give me any answers. They claim to have combed the area and seen nothing unusual. Incompetent people! 

April 18th 

I waited for her. Last night I sat in the doorway of the cabin to stand guard. But she had to come in through a back window, since I heard a thump in the kitchen. I came in like a devil's soul, shotgun in hand. When I looked out of the kitchen, I was speechless with horror. I expected to meet someone, but instead it was a mist. Something similar to what I saw inside the circle the other day. There she was, standing in front of me. Her outline was shifting like smoke. But there it was, it was real. I could make out two little bright spots on the top, as if they were her eyes. Although it lacked a definite shape, it reminded me of someone. Without thinking, I fired and he disappeared. 

April 19th 

Insomnia will kill me. I don't have nightmares anymore, but when I get to sleep, something wakes me up. Sometimes it's a scream; sometimes it's a cry, a whistle, or even a pinch. I can't take it anymore. 

April 22nd 

The police called me yesterday to tell me that they had located a young woman who had confessed something related to my case. Apparently, he was climbing the mountain late at night, along with three other young men, to perform satanic rituals. On one of these occasions, they went up with a Ouija board and decided to play by my house, claiming to have been "attracted" by a powerful energy that flowed from here. They drew a circle of salt around it to prevent the "entity" they contacted from entering our world. The results they obtained were terrible, the girl was scared to death. She told the police that she was poisoned by hatred and thirsty for revenge, and that she threatened them if they did not let her leave the circle. The young woman, despite her panic, felt guilty for having been part of his release and gathered the courage to go up every night and strengthen the circle, in case that entity was still there. I don't know what to do anymore. The phenomena don't stop. 

April 26th 

I've begged him to forgive me. I don't know what else to do. I want you to leave me alone. I'm lost. I'm crazy. She won't let me. She's stalking me. She's everywhere. I'm finished. 

Inspector Hernandez kept the victim's diary on file. Its author, Fernando Prieto, 38, had taken his own life two days ago in the mountains, throwing himself into the void. A deserved end for a murderer, since his hand did not tremble in killing his wife just a month before. The case of his suicide led the police to inspect the house and its surroundings so thoroughly that they found the dirt removed that hid the mutilated remains of the woman. But the inspector didn't believe in ghosts, but in guilt, she was the one who killed him, wasn't she?

The Chapter Hunter

July 3rd

Julia and her little brother Izan always spent the summer in the country, at their aunt Ana's house. It didn't matter that she was 17, she would always love to spend time there. On June 15^th of that year, the aunt called the niece.

- Honey, school's out next week, right? I'll wait here for you, you know, gladly! We're having a visitor this summer, I wanted you to know in advance…

- Who? - Julia asked, excited. “More people, less boredom,"; she thought.

- Her name is Elisabeth. I don't know if your father told you anything about it… Elisabeth is my partner.

The girl was not surprised, but rather happy for her aunt. She wouldn't be alone in that big house so far from the city anymore. Julia was devoted to Aunt Anna, she was fun and loving. She was sure she shared such attributes with Elisabeth. 

In the morning of 25^th June, the two brothers loaded their suitcases into their father's car and set off for the countryside. When they arrived, the two women were already waiting for them at the gate with a wide smile. As they got out of the car, everyone greeted each other with hugs and kisses. His father stayed for lunch and left in the afternoon. 

That first week was spent among board games, movies, popcorn and animals. Aunt Anna raised her own chickens and rabbits, and the boys helped her. Elizabeth was fantastic and her aunt seemed enormously happy in her company.

But in the morning of July 3rd, Julia regretted getting up to get water. From the corridor, she saw a faint orange light coming through the windows and from the outside. She peeked out and what she saw left her cold. There was Elisabeth, alone, sitting on the grass, surrounded by candles, drawing some strange symbols on different sheets of paper. She was reciting some kind of prayer that the girl couldn't decipher. In front of her was a small shape on the floor. When she lifted him up, Julia found that he was one of the rabbits from her aunt's pen. Elisabeth pulled out a knife and cut off his head without flinching. 

The girl, frightened, ran back to her room, closed the door and hid under the sheets. She was shaking. What had that woman done with the poor animal? She heard footsteps in the hallway. Someone was coming. Would Elisabeth have seen it? He was supposed to tell his aunt. The footsteps went by.

Three days passed and three more rabbits disappeared. Elisabeth performed that strange ritual every night. Julia didn't dare tell Aunt Anna. One afternoon she used an old padlock she found in the shed to lock the gate to the corral. And that night, Elisabeth didn't sacrifice a rabbit, but a chicken. The next day, the girl closed the door of the chicken coop with a rope, tying as many knots as she could. That night, there was no ritual. Julia looked out of her bedroom window and the outside was deserted and quiet. She breathed a sigh of relief. If Elisabeth could not open the pens, she would not kill any more animals and would leave behind her macabre hobby. 

Then, Julia made out a silhouette outside, in the dark. She was walking towards the house slowly. The girl continued to observe his approach until she recognized Elisabeth. The woman stopped in front of the porch. Julia's heart was going to come out. Elisabeth raised her head in his direction and looked her straight in the eyes. Julia had her heart turned upside down. That woman was Elisabeth but her face had changed. Her features looked like someone else's, it was as if she had suddenly aged. From her right hand hung a sickle covered in blood.

And then she went into the house. Julia woke up her brother and they both ran to her aunt's room, she had never been so scared, panic invaded every muscle in her body. But her aunt wasn't there. Where would he have gone? Elisabeth's footsteps on the ground floor echoed ever closer. 

- Aunt Anna! AUNT ANA! - shouted Julia down the hall. But no one answered. 

She had no choice but to go down and run to the nearest neighbors' house, which was a 15-minute walk away. She didn't think twice and went downstairs quietly, with his brother on his back. When she looked down she didn't see Elisabeth, it seemed clear. She wasted no time and ran to the front door. She went out and what she saw outside left her petrified. A large group of dark, hooded figures surrounded the porch, raised their faces at the sight, and their faces were illuminated by the dim light of the candle that each held in his hands. They stared at the siblings without moving a muscle. 

- Help! Help me! That woman wants to hurt us! - But no one was disturbed, they seemed not to listen to his pleas.

And Julia ran off with her brother. She crossed the imaginary circle that those individuals seemed to form and went out across the field, without looking back. She ran and ran, squeezing her brother's hand tightly until something made her stop abruptly. 

A few meters away from her, she could make out Aunt Anna. There she was, motionless, tied to a wooden pole, face down, arms in a cross, as if she was a macabre scarecrow. The girl came up to her and called, "Auntie, are you okay?"; there was no response. She couldn't see her face, it was too dark. She decided to touch her face and a cry of horror echoed in the middle of the night. She had no eyes, they had been removed and Julia could feel the wet and bloody hole in its place. She ran, she ran, she ran without stopping. She wasn't aware of the fatigue until she got to the neighbors' house. She pounded on the door until the owner came out. And Julia started crying. 

The neighbor invited them to rest on the couch and offered them a couple of blankets. Julia breathed a sigh of relief and decided to try to forget the spermy image of her aunt, looking around the room, but suddenly she stopped looking at a framed image hanging over the fireplace...

What was that? That symbol was familiar to her... Where has she seen it before? 

- Are you okay, honey? - asked the neighbour, who had just entered the room with a cup of hot milk. 

- Nothing, I'm just scared. Have you called the police?

- Sure, they're on their way. 

Julia drank and as she felt the stupor invade her senses, the image on the mantelpiece took shape in her memory. It was the strange symbol that Elisabeth drew endlessly on the night of July 3rd?

The Chapter Hunter