This is a ticket to enter my mind into a world that I have created,
where everything is possible, where the line between reality and unreality is almost
imperceptible, as thin and as fragile as a soap bubble. This is a
series of stories I narrate with the intention of telling you about a fantastic world
that does not exist. Oh, maybe I do, but you know this
doesn' t. I write it only sometimes when it' s nighttime or
when I sleep, sometimes when I meditate, when I focus, when I
' m alone, sometimes when I' m sitting in the dark, sometimes
when I play a drum in a temascal. Some beings tell me stories in
dreams and I write them with them. Then I record them and they accompany
me. Sometimes I just imagine them, other times I just sense them and
other times it seems like I already knew them before and I just remember it.
I am Rodrigo I and these are stories that told me the night the
suffocator written and narrated by Rodrigo. I was attending a baptism a few months
ago. He was the baptism of my boss' granddaughter, a robust or
ill- faced man, with a strong personality and a firm character. He
invited me and I couldn' t say no. No one can tell you
that no, least of all, if it' s about that granddaughter,
she seems to have come with more personality, because she totally dominates it.
Every visit to her office is to hear stories and anecdotes about her. He
thinks it' s incredible that he laughs at his finger, little finger with
his hand, and makes saliva bubbles with his mouth. I arrived with my
wife early in an old church to drive away in a small village outside the
very religious city. He doesn' t want to get lost in anything and
prefers to sit in the front row. I can' t get away.
After twenty years of marriage, I prefer to say yes to having a problem
by neglecting religious responsibilities. The celebration began like any other, until I noticed
something strange in the father who was officiating the Mass of the Eucharistic neck.
There were a couple of spots that couldn' t be greenish- grey moles.
Two beaks looked the same on his right wrist. I noticed for the
tick I had to adjust his neck and get off. The sleeve was remarkable,
repetitive and even made me uncomfortable. After observing and observing, I managed
to understand that it was not a nervous tic. It was a need to
cover the stains. He even hypnotized me. My interest grew more and more
to the extent that I completely neglected the Mass. This isn' t normal.
It' s definitely not normal. I thought the ceremony was over I
congratulated the parents and grandparents. We took a picture and I told Ana that
I would see her on the church esplanade with all the guests and without further
explanation. I followed the father behind the altar and knocked on the door and
with his timid voice invited me in. We talk about irrelevant things. How
ancient the Church is. It feels like something I don' t know,
I said as I was groping nervously in my hands. Being a non-
religious man, I know little about what to talk to a clergyman about.
He loosened his neck and I could see more of the stains. It was
a tattoo that followed to the chest. However, he failed to distinguish what
was what. You both know Mr Cortes, the child' s grandfather,
Ismael, it' s not like that. He asked me interested.“
It is my boss,” he replied. I' ve worked with him
for so many years. You' re not religious, but I know what
you' re doing here and I don' t mean the baptism, your
boss, the girl or even your wife. She' s a religious woman.
He told me while smiling and closing two glasses and a bottle of fine
whiskey. Yes, we like to drink well, to be a clergyman,
has its advantages, many gifts. He explained to me when I saw my
surprise face while serving a good glass look at the clock it was eleven o
' clock in the morning. She told me not to worry that Sister Metiche
had already taken ana to breakfast in the courtyard of the convent and had instructions
to attend and distract her. The conversation went on. He' s a
tough guy, that courteous. Yeah, he' s a tough guy,
a dry, rough personality. He started from below and I admire him because
he managed to become what he always wanted the most, not what he always
wanted. He answered years ago. He was a close, simple person.
You see, it doesn' t come from a family of money. On
the contrary, his family is humble. With hard work, he ran into
fortune and there he was approached by greed until he conquered it. He stopped
worrying about people, stopped being accessible and went into his office. Little by
little. He was more selfish, stingy, mean, moody, he wanted
to forget his modest origin and sometimes became a bad person, losing respect for
others. Little by little we would drink whiskey and he would serve more of
the bottle. Remember when it changed. He asked me. One day his
company began to do well, a great business of a client who nobody knew
where it came from. The next day he ran us all off the executive
floor and he himself made a huge office the size of a penhause. I
stopped being his right arm to become a stranger. He began to surround himself
with empty people and his personality and a turn of 180 degrees divorced the party.
He was invaded by a two- five lovers in the safe. He
had a lot of money and a gun, a gun always loaded. He
said, a group of escorts made him inaccessible. I just worked for my
family, really, with little interest, but it' s a job.
I' m still there because I am, even though it weighs me.
If I' m here it' s because I have to take care of
the payments, not so much for proximity. I' m done He'
s a good man. He told me as he folded his shirt sleeves,
letting his arms see completely tattooed. I couldn' t believe it. Faces
beings, horns and demons, clouds and dark clusters with lightning. It was
an apocalyptic picture of baroque darkness. I didn' t know what to think.
Your boss is not a bad person. The thing is, he'
s got a guardian demon. They are beings of the underworld who stick to
people with whom they make a pact for money, for power or for love.
He explained to me they are effective, but usurers. Interestingly, they
' re honest. They deliver what they promise and charge in advance to very
high cups that destroy the conversation became more and more obscure. The sky began
to close at one stroke I drank the whiskey and without asking him more,
he served me twice as much. Now he told me he' d been
following him for years, looking for him until he got into his life thanks
to the bubble- making baby. She was a white soul who gave the
warning. He explained to me for years waiting for Cortés, but when you
entered the Church, when I saw him cross the gate from afar, I
realized that it was really you who was waiting. He got up completely and
took off his shirt showing his body completely tattooed, pointing to the left side
of his torso in the rib to an eye with a spinal. This is
the last demon I was missing from my anthology, the one I was looking
forward to shedding and sending to the afterlife. He explained to me surprised,
I unbuttoned the sleeve of the shirt to show him the same figure, the
same eye with the spiral tattooed on the forearm. This demon had politeness on
his back. With this I finish my assignment. The little girl showed it
to us and the tattoo confirms it. It' s you, just like
me, a demon suffocator. Let me explain. During the time I spent
in prison I had dark, terrible dreams, full of screams and pain,
and from those dreams my first tattoo was detached. I dreamt it repeatedly.
It appeared to me in the mind in one way or another. One night,
a riot broke out in the north wing and I got stuck in the
bridle. I was beaten between two bands and there my custodian managed to pull
me away and take me to a safe place. He tried to cure me
and that' s when he noticed my tattoo, showing me one just like
it' s his right bise. That night he had managed to hunt down
the last demon in his collection and that night he finished his work. He
was a suffocator of demons like you and like I never saw him again.
Dude, this job is yours. It is not necessary to be a guard
in prison or a priest, nor to tattoo the beasts he sends to the
other side. But let me tell you something. It serves a lot to
carry an inventory the priest gave a final drink to his whiskey, left the
glass, took his keys and went out the back door of the sacristy.
I ran after him. Hey, wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
I have a lot of questions. He was already gone. I haven
' t seen him again since then I' ve been working in finance and
I' m part- time a demon suffocator. This was it. I
was told by a production of azucheclamino written and narrated by Rodrigo yob Visita.
He told me the night com