Nahual: El Perro de Humo (Cuento Corto)

Una madrugada William despertó en la oscuridad, después de una pesadilla de la que ya no recuerda. En eso, miró para el borde de la cama y vio una oscuridad más espesa. El joven estaba acostado junto a la pared, así que estaba algo lejos. Pero cuando divisó bien, vio que se trataba de un animal: era un perro negro que no era muy grande.

​En su casa él no tenía perro, tan solo tenía un gato pequeño, así que le pareció imposible. El sabueso estaba inclinado en la cama solo con las patas delanteras puestas en el borde del colchón.

​Observándolo bien, se dio cuenta de que no se trataba de un perro real; era como una nube de humo. Detallándolo con precisión, el animal tenía puesta una camiseta como de un equipo de fútbol de rayas negras y rojas oscuras y una gorra negra al revés. Pero lo más espeluznante era que tenía rasgos humanos en varios lados de su cara que él no podía describir bien. Tenía como un bulto en la zona de uno de sus ojos y no tenía hocico. Él solo veía que tenía unos cachetes estirados, pero no podía ver si tampoco tenía boca.

​A pesar de eso, él no le tuvo miedo, ya que desde su niñez ha tenido experiencias paranormales y ha visto seres fantasmagóricos. Por eso, él sabía que ellos siempre estaban por ahí, así que se lo quedó mirando fijamente.

​Normalmente, las entidades oscuras cuando se manifiestan se desaparecen apenas volteas a verlas. Pero en este caso, esta no hizo eso. Se quedó ahí mirándolo como esperando a que se impresionara, pero él lo siguió viendo con determinación y se preguntaba en la mente: ¿Y este por qué no ha desaparecido si lo estoy mirando? ¿Por qué no actúa como los demás?

​Sin embargo, William no sabía si el espíritu había escuchado lo que estaba pensando, o como vio que no se estaba asustando y no tenía energía que absorber, a los tres o cuatro segundos se desvaneció.

​Un Nahual es un brujo o chamán que tiene la capacidad de proyectar su espíritu y, a veces, su cuerpo en la forma de un animal. Eso era lo que había visitado a William esa noche. Por alguna razón se le había aparecido en esa forma.

​Una semana después, William se volvió a despertar a medianoche, pero esta vez el perro de neblina estaba montado en la cama encima de él. El joven tenía la cabeza de medio lado y el perro se la estaba pisando con tanta fuerza que ni podía moverla. A pesar de no ser de carne y hueso, William podía sentir la presión y el pelaje del animal. Y a su vez, sentía la rabia que le estaba transmitiendo, pero a los pocos segundos igual desapareció y lo dejó moverse. William respiraba rápido por la boca, como si se estuviera ahogando.

​No sabía qué pudiera estar enojando tanto al animal, o al brujo, para que se le apareciera tan constantemente.

​Pasaron alrededor de 15 días, y una noche cuando recién se había acostado para dormirse de medio lado, empezó a sentir una energía fuerte y ardiente en el aire, no muy lejos de él. Como William ya había tenido experiencias, sabía que esa era la sensación de un ente oscuro, así que empezó a rezar.

​Apenas empezó, sintió que algo vino por detrás y se le montó encima, entre la cabeza y la espalda, como para evitar que lo hiciera. Él, a su vez, estaba dispuesto esta vez a defenderse. Sin embargo, este lo mantuvo tan presionado que William no podía moverse ni un centímetro; se sentía mucho más pesado que una roca enorme.

​Por alguna razón, el perro ese día era mucho más grande y en su mente podía ver que esta vez tenía el pelaje más oscuro. A los pocos segundos, el sabueso se le quitó de encima volando hacia arriba. Lo que el ente no sabía era que, desde la última vez que se le apareció, William había guardado una hacha pequeña debajo de su almohada. Así que, con agilidad, la sacó y dio un gran golpe en el aire, alcanzando a atravesar el cuerpo de humo del animal.

​A la mañana siguiente, el sonido de una ambulancia despertó a William. Se asomó por la ventana y vio a mucha gente alrededor de una casa cercana. Los enfermeros traían en la camilla a un vecino suyo, un hombre que siempre pasaba por la casa del joven y lo miraba con la cara arrugada y una mirada profunda, solo porque William era feliz. El hombre tenía una herida muy larga y profunda en el estómago.

Nahual: The Smoke Dog (Short Story) by Hanner Goenaga

​Early one morning, William woke up in the darkness following a nightmare he could no longer remember. As he glanced toward the edge of the bed, he noticed a thickness in the shadows—a darkness denser than the rest. He was lying against the wall, so there was some distance between them, but as his eyes adjusted, he realized it was an animal: a black dog, not very large.

​There was no dog in his house, only a small cat, so the sight seemed impossible. The hound was leaning against the bed, its front paws resting on the edge of the mattress.

​Looking closer, William realized it wasn't a real dog; it was like a cloud of smoke. Observing it with precision, he saw the animal was wearing a soccer jersey with dark red and black stripes and a black cap turned backward. But most chilling of all were the human features scattered across its face, which he found difficult to describe. There was a bulge near one of its eyes, and it had no snout. He could only see stretched cheeks, though he couldn't tell if it even had a mouth.

​Despite this, he felt no fear. Since childhood, William had experienced paranormal events and seen ghostly beings. He knew they were always around, so he simply stared back at it, unflinching.

​Usually, dark entities vanish the moment you look at them. But this one didn't. It stayed there, staring, as if waiting for him to be terrified. William continued to watch it with determination, wondering: Why hasn't this one disappeared? Why isn't it acting like the others?

​Whether the spirit heard his thoughts or realized it couldn't absorb any energy from his lack of fear, it eventually faded away after three or four seconds.

​A Nahual is a sorcerer or shaman with the ability to project their spirit—and sometimes their body—into the form of an animal. That was what had visited William that night. For some reason, it had appeared to him in that shape.

​A week later, William woke up again in the middle of the night. This time, the mist-dog was on the bed, on top of him.

​The young man’s head was turned to the side, and the dog was stepping on it with such force that he couldn't move. Despite the creature not being made of flesh and bone, William could feel the pressure and the texture of the black fur. He could also sense a wave of pure rage radiating from it. After a few seconds, it vanished again, allowing him to move. William breathed heavily through his mouth, gasping as if he had been suffocating.

​He had no idea what could be angering the animal—or the sorcerer—so much that it would appear so persistently.

​About fifteen days passed. One night, just as he had lied down to sleep on his side, he felt a heavy, burning energy in the air nearby. Having been through this before, William knew the sensation of a dark entity, and he began to pray.

​The moment he started, he felt something lunging from behind, pinning him down between his head and his back to stop him. This time, William was ready to defend himself; he wanted to land a blow on the shaggy specter. However, the pressure was so intense he couldn't move an inch—it felt heavier than a massive boulder.

​For some reason, the dog seemed much larger that day, and in his mind’s eye, he could see its fur was even darker. After a few seconds, the hound suddenly flew upward, releasing him. What the entity didn't know was that, since the last visit, William had kept a hand axe hidden under his pillow. With a swift motion, he pulled it out and delivered a powerful strike through the air, slicing through the animal’s body of smoke.

​The next morning, the sound of an ambulance woke William. He looked out the window and saw a crowd gathered around a nearby house. Paramedics were carrying out a neighbor on a stretcher. He was a man who always passed by William's house, scowling at him with a deep, furrowed gaze—simply because William was happy. The man had a long, deep gash across his stomach.

The Boy’s Deliverance Room (Short Story) by Hanner Goenaga

 

Mattiuw was a six-year-old boy who got sick very often. At that age, he didn’t count the episodes, but his mother told him it happened weekly. A friend of hers, without knowing exactly why, recommended she take him to a private "doctor" she knew. The place wasn’t very close, but it was within walking distance, so Mattiuw, thinking he was going to see a "normal" doctor, went along with them.

​Upon arriving at the medical center, it looked like any other. It had a waiting room and consultation offices. The boy looked pale and had a vacant stare, so when the "doctor" saw him from a distance, he told his mother, —He has something— but it wasn't natural.

​The "doctor" guided them toward a small room at the end of the hallway. Unlike the rest of the building, this room was completely empty, and the noise of the cars passing along the boulevard could not be heard. Mattiuw didn’t know what they were going to do, but he simply let himself be guided. Following the man's instructions, the four of them —the doctor, his mother, the friend, and the boy— held hands, forming a circle.

​—Close your eyes —the man ordered in a deep voice.

​The doctor began to recite a prayer; the words seemed to vibrate in the air. Suddenly, a strange sensation ran through the boy's body. It wasn't pain, but a stretching feeling, as if something that didn't belong to him was trying to cling to his bones one last time.

​Suddenly, Mattiuw felt a violent detachment. Something shot out from his shoulder, right on the side where his mother was holding him. Opening his eyes for a split second, he saw the impossible: a streak of transparent smoke, dense and fast, which dissipated into the air before touching the ceiling.

​The silence that followed was absolute. Mattiuw blinked and, for the first time in months, the world regained its color. The paleness vanished from his face, and the heaviness in his eyelids faded away.

​The most curious thing about that encounter wasn't the smoke or the mysterious office, but what happened afterward: from that precise moment, that boy who used to get sick every week didn't catch a single cold for years. Something had left that room, and Mattiuw was finally free.

Why did that deity attack him? How did the friend know that this was the treatment he needed? These are questions that only the future will reveal.

Louis: El Karma del Pueblo de Brishman (Cuento Corto)

 

Louis era un chico de 16 años que vivía con sus tíos y de sus primos en una gran casa de madera en un pueblo antiguo. Estos, lo trataban como su sirviente y su esclavo. Era el que limpiaba la casa y les traía todo lo que se les antojaba. La tía era la que cocinaba, pero a él le daba una miserablesa de comida y lo tenía muy delgado con prendas de vestir desgastadas. Por su parte, los miembros de la familia Johnson le gritaban, lo insultaban y lo humillaban. 

Un día, Louis se cansó de vivir en esa situación y decidió escaparse de la casa. Se voló por la ventana del segundo piso y cayo de rodillas en la calle arenosa. Sin embargo, sus tíos que tenían el control de la vivienda y siempre estaban pendientes de todo lo que pasaba, se dieron cuenta.

Inmediatamente, le dijeron a la vecina de al lado por la ventana que daba a su casa, que les informara a todos los vecinos del pueblo que cerraran sus puertas y no lo dejaran entrar. El chisme se fue corriendo de casa en casa, ventana por ventana, por los patios, a través de sus teléfonos giratorios y todas las casas del pueblo de Brishman cerraron sus puertas.

Louis fue caminando por las calles pidiendo ayuda, 

—¡Ayuda! ¡Ayuda! Me están maltratando.

Pero era como si nadie escuchara, se había convertido en un pueblo fantasma donde solo se escuchaba el sonido de las ráfagas del viento. Tocaba la puerta de muchas casas, pero en ninguna respondían.

Hasta que llego a una taberna, donde la puerta era transparente y decidió girar la perilla, pero estaba atascada. Adentro solo se veía un grupo de hombres hablando y riéndose con grandes vasos de cerveza en las manos. Louis toco y toco la puerta con ambas manos medio sudando con la cara arrugada, pero era como si no lo escucharan o lo estuvieran ignorando.

El joven decidió seguir su camino y más adelante se encontró con la tienda donde a veces lo habían mandado a comprar, pero esa vez tenía las puertas metálicas abajo. Agacho la cabeza con los ojos llorosos y siguió su camino.

Ya estaba llegando a la salida del pueblo que venía seguida de un gran desierto polvoriento y caliente. Ya Louis no sabía que hacer, lagrimas corrían por sus mejillas por el rechazo que estaba viviendo y por el hecho de pensar que tenía que volver a la casa de sus tíos donde iba a seguir sufriendo.

A pesar de eso, cuando llego a la salida del pueblo, vio que ahí había un viejo hombre de barba blanca y larga de pie. Se le acerco corriendo con ansias aun con lágrimas en sus ojos y le dijo, —Disculpe señor, no sé quién es usted, pero necesito alguien que me ayude, no sé si usted lo pueda hacer, es a la primera persona que hoy he visto en las calles del pueblo.

El enseguida se inclinó un poco hacia él y le dijo, —Todo el pueblo sabe cómo te tratan, pero tranquilo yo no soy como los demás, tienes un corazón tan noble que no mereces vivir de la forma tan cruel con la que te están haciendo vivir. Ven vamos, confía en mí, te llevare a un lugar mejor donde serás muy feliz, toma mi mano.

Louis veía que la túnica blanca con la que estaba vestida el señor brillaba y eso le transmitía paz y confianza. El joven tomo su mano y este se lo llevo caminando fuera del pueblo, a través del desierto y desaparecieron detrás de una nube de arena.

Con el pasar de los días, la temperatura de Brishman empezó a aumentar súbitamente, era como si estuvieran en el propio desierto y la atmósfera del lugar se tornó pesada. Ahi, los vecinos se dieron cuenta de que Louis ya no estaba, había logrado marcharse. 

Se comenzaron a escuchar todo el tiempo discusiones en la casa de los Johnson, dia tras día, veían por sus ventanas que cada vez había menos gente, pero nunca vieron a nadie salir de la casa. Hasta que llego el punto en que los gritos cesaron y la vivienda quedo sola. Con el tiempo se fue deteriorando y a veces se escuchaban los mismos gritos en la madrugada.

En el interior de la taberna, solo se veía a los hombres que una vez reían con la cerveza en la mano, esta vez. golpeando la puerta de entrada que le habían bloqueado a Louis. Tenían la piel arrugada, la boca y los ojos que parecían que se les fueran salir, su cuerpo se veía petrificado, ya que todas las entradas del lugar parecían hacer sido soldadas en hierro, no abrían de ninguna forma, estaban encerrados. 

La gente afuera solo los veía con los labios caídos y los ojos arrugados. Mientras que las persianas metálicas de la tienda nunca volvieron a su subir. No salía ni un silbido de ahí.

Nubes grises se apoderaron del cielo, todos los vecinos se encerraron en sus casas y se ocultaron temblando en un rincón, se dieron que no le pueden hacer daño a una persona inocente ya que en cualquier momento un rayo podía caer.

Louis: The Karma of Brishman Town (Short Story) by Hanner Goenaga

 

​Louis was a 16-year-old boy who lived with his aunts, uncles, and cousins in a large wooden house in an ancient town. They treated him like a servant and a slave. He was the one who cleaned the house and brought them everything they craved. The aunt did the cooking, but she gave him a miserable amount of food, keeping him very thin and dressed in worn-out clothes. For their part, the members of the Johnson family would yell at him, insult him, and humiliate him.

​One day, Louis grew tired of living in that situation and decided to escape. He jumped out of the second-floor window and landed on his knees in the sandy street. However, his uncles, who controlled the household and were always watchful of everything that happened, noticed immediately.

​Right away, they shouted through the window to the next-door neighbor, telling her to inform everyone in town to lock their doors and not let him in. The gossip spread from house to house, window to window, through backyards, and across their rotary phones. Every house in the town of Brishman closed its doors.

​Louis walked through the streets crying for help.

​—"Help! Help! They are mistreating me!"

​But it was as if no one heard; the town had become a ghost town where only the sound of wind gusts could be heard. He knocked on the doors of several houses, but no one answered.

​Eventually, he reached a tavern where the door was transparent. He decided to turn the knob, but it was stuck. Inside, he could see a group of men talking and laughing with large glasses of beer in their hands. Louis knocked and knocked on the door with both hands, sweating and with a furrowed brow, but it was as if they couldn't hear him—or were simply ignoring him.

​The young man decided to continue his way, and further ahead, he came across the shop where he had sometimes been sent to buy supplies, but this time, the metal shutters were down. He lowered his head with tearful eyes and kept walking.

​He was reaching the edge of town, followed by a vast, dusty, and hot desert. Louis didn't know what to do; tears ran down his cheeks because of the rejection he was experiencing and the thought that he would have to return to his uncles' house, where he would continue to suffer.

​Despite this, when he reached the exit of the town, he saw an old man with a long white beard standing there. Louis ran to him anxiously, still with tears in his eyes, and said:

​—"Excuse me, sir, I don't know who you are, but I need someone to help me. I don't know if you can, but you are the first person I've seen in the streets today."

​The man immediately leaned toward him and said:

​—"The whole town knows how they treat you, but don't worry, I am not like the others. You have a heart so noble that you do not deserve to live in such a cruel way. Come, walk with me, trust me. I will take you to a better place where you will be very happy. Take my hand."

​Louis saw that the white robe the man was wearing was glowing, and it gave him peace and confidence. The young man took his hand, and the man led him out of town, across the desert, until they both disappeared behind a cloud of sand.

​A few days later, the temperature in Brishman began to rise suddenly. It was as if they were in the desert itself, and the atmosphere became heavy. It was then that the neighbors realized Louis was gone; he had managed to leave.

​Constant arguments began to be heard in the Johnson house. Day after day, neighbors saw through their windows that there were fewer and fewer people inside, yet they never saw anyone leave the house. Eventually, the screaming stopped, and the house was left empty. Over time, the building deteriorated, and sometimes those same screams could be heard in the early morning.

​Inside the tavern, the men who once laughed with beer in hand were now seen pounding on the entrance door they had once blocked for Louis. Their skin was wrinkled, their mouths and eyes looked as if they were about to pop out, and their bodies appeared petrified. Every entrance to the place seemed to have been welded shut with iron; they wouldn't open no matter what. They were trapped. People outside only saw them with drooping lips and shriveled eyes. Meanwhile, the metal shutters of the shop never rose again. Not even a whistle came out of there.

​Grey clouds took over the sky. All the neighbors locked themselves in their homes, hiding and trembling in corners. They realized you cannot harm an innocent person, for at any moment, a lightning bolt might strike.

El Gato y La Cueva de Murciélagos (Cuento Corto)

Había una vez, un gato blanco con negro que cada vez que llovía se metía a una cueva para refugiarse de la lluvia. 

Del techo de la cueva colgaban un bando de murciélagos que veían cada vez que el gato entraba a su morada, pero no todos le prestaban atención porque no les gustaba su sangre.

A pesar de eso, uno que otro siempre se le abalanzaba con el propósito de enterrarle sus colmillos, pero para su desgracia, el peludo animal era tan ágil que siempre los esquivaba.

Cada vez se le sumaba uno nuevo a la cacería, pero todos fallaban. Hasta que se les ocurrió una idea, decidieron reunirse para atacar al gato todos al mismo tiempo, hasta que el día llego. Cuando no lo vieron a la defensiva, distraído oliendo el piso, se descolgaron del techo y volaron directamente hacia el a gran velocidad. 

Sin embargo, justo antes de que llegaran a él, el felino volteo la cabeza y al darse cuenta de que estaba a punto de tenerlos en sus narices, sin pensarlo dio un enorme salto hacia arriba. Los esquivo y los murciélagos terminaron estrellándose unos con otros y cayendo inconscientes en el suelo. 

Desde ese entonces ningún otro murciélago lo volvió a atacar, tan solo lo veían en silencio desde el techo mientras saltaba en la cueva refugiándose de la lluvia.

The Cat and the Cave of Bats (Short Story) by Hanner Goenaga

 

Once upon a time, there was a black and white cat that, every time it rained, would duck into a cave to shelter himself from the storm.

​Hanging from the ceiling of the cave was a colony of bats that watched the cat every time he entered their home. Not all of them paid him much attention, though, because they didn't particularly like the taste of his blood.

​Nevertheless, one or two would always pounce on him, intent on sinking their fangs into him. But to their misfortune, the furry animal was so agile that he always dodged them.

​With each passing day, a new bat joined the hunt, but they all failed. Eventually, they came up with an idea: they decided to gather and attack the cat all at once. Finally, the day arrived. When they saw him off his guard, distracted while sniffing the ground, they unhooked themselves from the ceiling and flew directly toward him at great speed.

​However, just before they reached him, the feline turned his head. Realizing they were right under his nose, he didn't even think—he gave a massive leap upward. He dodged them, and the bats ended up crashing into each other, falling unconscious to the ground.

​From that day on, no other bat ever attacked him again. They would simply watch him in silence from the ceiling while he jumped around in the cave, taking refuge from the rain.

El Túnel de la Envidia (Cuento Corto)

 

​Érase una vez un hombre llamado Alfonso, quien le tenía envidia a una familia muy feliz que vivía en una gran casa en una finca: era la familia Gómez. Alfonso quería acabar con su felicidad. Por eso, una noche decidió comenzar a cavar al lado de su vivienda con el propósito de crear un túnel debajo para que esta se hundiera en el agujero.

​Cavó con facilidad hasta llegar a una profundidad considerable, y ahí empezó a remover la tierra con sus manos debajo de la casa. Sin embargo, al poco tiempo notó que, en esa parte, la tierra se estaba poniendo más dura y le era más difícil excavar.

​A medida que iba avanzando cada vez más lento, se iba quedando sin fuerzas. Se comenzó a debilitar y a agotar; iba perdiendo masa muscular con velocidad, ya que la arena se iba volviendo más espesa y más dura a medida que progresaba.

​A pesar de eso, su sed de venganza no lo detenía. Cuando llegó al centro de la parte de abajo de la casa, sintió que lo que tocaba era tan duro que ya no era tierra. En eso, la capa de granos de arena marrón terminó de caer y vio que ahí detrás había una pared de calaveras.

​En ese momento, el hombre no pudo más y cayó boca abajo en el suelo. Con sus últimas fuerzas se levantó e intentó volver, pero al darse la vuelta vio que toda la arena que había excavado se había reconstruido, tapando por completo el túnel.

​Alfonso había quedado atrapado bajo tierra, justo debajo de la casa de la familia Gómez. Las calaveras pertenecían a todas las personas que, antes que él, habían intentado tumbarlos por odio y envidia.

The Tunnel of Envy (Short Story) by Hanner Goenaga

​Once upon a time, there was a man named Alfonso who envied a very happy family living in a large farmhouse on an estate: they were the Gomez family. Alfonso wanted to put an end to their happiness. Therefore, one night, he decided to start digging next to their home, intending to create a tunnel underneath so that the house would sink into the hole.

​He dug with ease until he reached a considerable depth, and there he began to move the earth with his hands beneath the house. However, after a short while, he noticed that in that area, the earth was becoming harder, and it was more difficult for him to excavate.

​As he moved forward slower and slower, he began to lose his strength. He started to grow weak and exhausted; he was losing muscle mass rapidly, as the sand was becoming thicker and harder as he kept going.

​Despite this, his thirst for revenge did not stop him. When he reached the center of the area beneath the house, he felt that what he was touching was so hard it was no longer earth. At that moment, the layer of brown sand grains finished falling away, and he saw that behind it was a wall of skulls.

​In that instant, the man could take no more and fell face down on the ground. With his last bit of strength, he stood up and tried to go back, but as he turned around, he saw that all the sand he had excavated had reconstructed itself, completely plugging the tunnel.

​Alfonso was trapped underground, right beneath the Gomez family’s house. The skulls belonged to all the people who, before him, had tried to tear them down out of hatred and envy.