Categoría: Drawlloween

I didn’t believe in ghosts and ghost didn’t believe in me. Or at least it didn’t use to…. Until last week.

A month ago, I was taking a bath. It was one of those long, long baths with bubbles and salts and candles. So I was there, totally relaxing from a busy day with tons of reservations because of the Ghost and religions conference in the Blue Hall of the hotel I work at, when someone… Well, I’m not sure they’re people.

So, I was there, relaxing with eyes closed and the Schubert’s mass in g Benedictus, wondering if the black or the purple vibrator would be better than the other when… Was it a blue?, white? or maybe it is most accurate to say it was like a transparent blur that turned everything white and black at its other side?; passed through the door. It went directly to the mirror to eliminate some fraying from his persona. Ghosts are like this image we see in movies but all around them, they have like threads they go loosing around. It seems this happens every time a medium contacts them so they try not to come upon one. Oh, yes. It was looking at the mirror while cutting when it got paralysed and looked over its shoulder. It turned around quickly, it seemed it had seen something horrible! It started to babble and tremble to lastly turn around. It screamed when he saw me looking at them from the bathtub.

Afterwards we must have encountered each other in the kitchen, the laundry room or the same bathroom. Every single time, it would tremble, contorting its face and opening its mouth. It seems ghosts don’t have sliver but they emit steam. And so it kept on going as it was, until I asked over my half shaved beard of two days , to the fleeting blur I could see in the mirror:
—Do you believe in humans? — The ghost stopped, stiff. She —why did it take that long to notice it was a she?— turned around very slowly. If something, I felt I should have been the one scared shitlees but she looked so scared I couldn’t help but feel protective. I have an older sister who is way shorter than me.
—No… I… I didn’t—She wrapped up in a black shawl, resting her hands on her lap, over her green bodice dress.
—I see— It was all I could say while I observed how her persona frayed a little more around the edges.

The burning smell told her the Zodiac grinder had spelt its last moments. She watched the light of the ceiling sparkling to the power of a sudden electricity burst. Was this all? No! For disgraces come in three. Everybody knows that.

Just this morning she remembered the last night she had to grind teeth because her wife had taken the remaining powder for going to curse a new born. But she had felt to tired, she had gone to sleep. Her wife was still sleeping the hangover…

Now, she had no powder to fly and no food processor to grind. She peeked through the mouse hole that was their door. Meowrice, the cat, was licking his paws waiting for her to come out. And the human of the house was around, vacuuming! Who vacuums this early in the morning? Was her silent complaint.

She went to the pantry and searched. At least they still had some catnip. This was dangerous. Cats like to eat fairies. That’s why houses with cats never have «poltergeist problems». Marley went to the mouse hole and blowed some catnip outside. Meowrice blinked, jumped onto his four paws and smelled the catnip cautiously. Marley walked slowly. Her legs wanted to run like the devil but she knew the cat would chase anything that moved fast. She needed to be slow but swift. She scurried herself behind the beige fur of the cat and started climbing. A hand, a foot, hand, foot. Little by little.

Once up there, she held onto the intoxicated cat’s collar and whispered malignant: «Fur and claws, all to do my will. To the market in April street». Meowrice obeyed. He went to the cat door and passed through, went up the white fence and surrounded the house.

The whole block was behind when the dog came up barking. Poor Meowrice took it as a signal to scape. Which he did. Marley was flying hanging from the cat’s collar while she repeated to herself again and again: «Don’t grind your teeth. Don’t grind your teeth»

Step, step, step.
Something at my heels.
I can’t reach the door.
Inside, with no probable cause.
Trapped mouse.

Mirror, mirror,
Hanging on the wall;
Can you tell why is the house derailed?

One, two, three downstairs,
Into underground mistakes,
A cobweb shawl of regrets.

The closet pervaded by evil,
Inside the corpse of my lad.
Where shall we try,
That new axe I despair?

About to chime,
About to tell,
How much I’ve lazed.
Aye, no big name myself.
Standing there,
The midnight bells.
The bells that ring at midnight their spell.

The rest of the room is in darkness. The only light there is the screen of the computer.
His face is ragged. There’s dark under  his eyes and there’s a prickly stubble. Plus, he has a ketchup stain on the hoodie, almost a part of the brown fabric and invisible therefore, but still there.

A message comes into the screen and a girl he doesn’t know, with the funny nickname of  Mortgage asks: tabla? Mister System Debt, with one or two aficionado trophies in his bookshelves, sneak peaks into this gal’s profile. He sees nothing but men in swimming suits and thongs. Oh, and her age. She wasn’t born by the time of the SNES so come on…Time to kick some ass. <<Why not?>>   Replies System Debt.

Side by side, she in denim shorts and him in jeans, they go. This turn, a bit more and an obstacle of a wall. The coins to collect and the crows coming to rip their guts apart. The crows never touch her but are already tearing his clothes in the game.  <<What the f..? I don’t remember this game like this>>.
They keep going at it for a while. Some stair rails and many ramps in the city. Turns into supermarkets avoiding collisions with stacked cans of soup and stealing energy bars. But System Debt is already pulling up his T and the girl is showing nothing but her bare legs.

<<Wanna borrow?>>
<<Borrow what?>>
<<Money for clothes>>
System Debt doubts. It seems it is going to be difficult to win this one holding his T and pants with a hand… So yeah. He might have it a bit hard yet, hardships make winning sweeter. He borrows. The girl says the interests rate is of the 70% and that he has to pay before he gets taken by the police car at the end or his chips will be repossessed. System Debt wonders how much credit does he have on this game. He has not that much to worry about so, even if he loses, he thinks this will be embarrassing but exciting to tell his friends. A girl is trying to get him naked…

This time, there are subway escalators and tracks. But he is already covering his front with his hands… One more tunnel. Just one more tunnel… He goes collecting the coins but the rate interest is so high he barely pays anything.  

Besides, this is becoming boring. He stopped covering his front and went to the goal line. There they are the police patrol. He happily crashes against them.

His eyes go up to the face of the officers. He gulps to their horns and all he can think about is to unplug the Xbox. On the screen, in white letters he reads: GAME OVER. When he turns back, his life has already been repossessed.

The stars spin around me while the engine’s silence tells me I’m going to die. And it seems like my fall goes as slow as the snow flakes coming with me to the ground. I close my eyes and see myself driving a lorry to Florinda? Anyplace as long as it is warm. I’m just done with the swamp like weather of my city. Nine months a year in the mud and the rest in the cold, and there’s no shoe that will survive long.

The fuselage is clean, without a single  shell in it. Yet the motor has gone off completely.

I saw it from a corner of the eye just ten to seventeen seconds from the MIG alley. It was small and cloud white. It tailed me as a fly tails a human ear… I knew he couldn’t use his gun so I simply turn in a U to get behind it. But I couldn’t complete the U. He was smaller and…slower. Mine is so fast… The engine choked when I tried to follow him.
I don’t see them but I know they’re there. Thus, I’ll plunge myself with this beauty into the sea.

Tlic, tlac, tloc. Plop. The rain falls from the roof on the camellias whilst she waits. Her big hay hat to cover her face when she delivers the meat.
Inside the room, she knows of the blood and bodily fluids. Of her timed pain. She had done the same once.

Screams and grunting and finally silence. That woman was strong. It had taken her a while to recover enough to recover her freedom. It had been enough for the thing to start crying. So pitiful. This time, the chief came out soon, her hands in blood.
—Was the child returned to the heavens?— asked Shinji.
—She did but she used her green belt to strangle it
Shinji clicked her tongue. —The meat, is it fine?
—What do you think? It is becoming blue — the owner shrugged and went to get a kamuro.
Shinji entered the room. A woman slept peacefully on a futon. To her side, on the floor, the meat she had to deliver to that lord… As the owner had said, there was a green woven snake on the neck of the meat. Shinji took it off and bundled the meat in a silk piece of cloth with a rabbit woven into its pattern.

To the right of the main street, on a short alley that looked like the moon, were the doors to Hell.

And since that was the name of the saloon, we jokingly would say things like «Let’s go to Hell» those afternoons when there was nothing else to do but lull the afternoon with a beer on hand and paly darts or «Come with us to Hell» to our cousins from the city or … «Why do you think I work for? To go to Hell, of course». To this joke, my grandmother, a respectable and  gray haired woman on her 70s whom always went to mass, would raise an eyebrow and purse her lips in reprobation. Her small defect of a tumour like appendage on her right side of the lips trembled.
One day, the dough was resting on the table waiting for my grandmother to finish a new table cloth’s embroidery and getting puffier when a ding dong came from the door. I wanted to scream, my nose was a leaking tap and my head was like a fluid fish bowl with my brain floating on it dead. But grandma can barely move around so I couldn’t help snorting when I saw her on her feet and opening the door to a couple of guys. Then she turned around and yelled towards my room:
—Christian were going bar crawling tonight! Get the truck ready honey
She laughed a lot when she realised I was there on the stairs, transfixed looking at the tiny tentacles around her mouth.
Then she and her also tentacled friends came up to me and surrounded my shoulders with their arms.
— Tonight we aren’t going to Hell. We’re going to all the Styx, Purgatory, Valhalla and Paradise boy…

Outside the chubby lavender villa, there was this reddish guy admiring the «On sale» board. He would press a cotton handkerchief on his nose from time to time until he wheezed like an old toy and entered the house.

Inside, an smell to old decaying money was beginning to stench. Enrico placed his hand on the stairs rail and reacted immediately. He had left his hand in a negative imprinted mark. He took off the handkerchief again and cleaned his hands.

Upstairs, there was this room with beautiful birds painted all over the walls and furniture. A tiny fat prune was looking at him with a lot of interest from the bed.
—How do you find the house Mr. Gallo?
—Big and well by the side of the highway. I can’t pay more than what I told you by the phone…Misses Loretta
—That’s ok lad. Nobody is buying anyway.
—May I ask why?
—Once you start talking to the folks you’ll know. Just… No, never mind. Saint John’s wort on the garden will take care of it

A month later, that bed was gone and Misses Loretta would be living in the nearest town’s retirement house whilst what had once been her kitchen oozed bacon and crispy bread smells. Enrico had opened an italo-dutch restaurant. His Flammkuchen would attract lots of flies with cameras hanging from their necks… Until last week. He had no idea what had happened since everything was the same. The same garden… That had changed a little. He had needed space for culinary herbs and he had decided thus, to cut off some of the patches with Saint John’s wort. Besides, the pretty girl in the green apron by the gas station’s seven eleven, had liked sunflowers. She was a lovely creature of blue eyes and a name as blue as they were.

A week later, Azure called the police. Enrico had forgotten to call her for a whole week not to say the least, he had left her alone on their date! Worst, some tourists had complained they had gone to enjoy his famous flammkuchen.

The first thing the three policemen noticed was the sulphur smell. The whole house smelled like the devil. The second was the atmosphere. Inside, there was an aquarium of light. There were butterflies dancing or swimming in that light, gravitationless kingyos in a fish bowl. The three men jumped at the same time, with a better synchronization than any Korean band could ever achieve. At the edge of the stairs, Mr. Gallo looked at them, amused.

The only policeman without crows feet started to run towards him when the oldest senior, caught his arm.

—Are you all right sir? Someone reported you missing after a week of a closed restaurant — The youngest man couldn’t help asking.
— Don’t you see he is alive and well — whispered the officer holding his arm and trying to drag him downstairs.

—Indeed, I’m fine. That bloody herb smells like heaven and I’m allergic to it. Get closer good men, I’d like to shake your hands to congratulate you in your good job.
The thin young policeman tried to get up there, but the old man; brazenly resorted to grab his arm and run stairs down and out of the villa. The other one did the same. They ran until they were
The youngest men in uniform protested by getting off the old one’s grip.

—What the heck is wrong with you two?
—Didn’t you see his shadow? — asked the one who hadn’t participated as much as fleeing too. — ¡he had had horns and a tail! He sure made his fortune.