Escribo relatos donde lo cotidiano se vuelve extraño, anómalo, siniestro o simplemente terrorífico. Historias que borronean los límites entre lo real, lo imaginario y lo simbólico.
Me gusta proponer una realidad oscilante. Intento ponerle letra a tus pesadillas. Aspiro a rescatar el asombro del Universo.
martes, 31 de mayo de 2016
You are not here, no, in the region where somehow one exists, you have left us on Earth with no supplies, therefore, I tear myself.
Nezahualcoyotl-I am sad
The summoning was urgent. It was the tlatoani himself who wanted to deal with my intransigence, that of
not being moved by the draughts caused by an absent Tláloc or the hurricanes
blown on us by a tireless Ehécatl. Nor was I touched by the blood that does not
placate Tonatiuh´s harshness. I tell you: it was not divine deafness but a
surfeit. This fifth sun will end like its predecessors. Such is the fate of our
people, however, a vast majority wish to
avoid it. And they now follow the infamous cihuacatl whose conspiracies were never my
concern. The Prime Minister is a good man but also a fanatic. To achieve his
goals he does not hesitate to resort to betrayal, fraud and even murder. He has
our great King´s ear. But, I am the teotecuhtli, the Supreme Priest, who before the royal presence argues
with all the privileges of my sacred rank and ancient wisdom. I also speak to
the gods who, through sacred fumes reveal the future to me. They tell me there
is nowhere to go. Aware of the outcome, I
opposed their decision. Nevertheless, the
command was issued well in advance. And beyond the sea, the children of
Sin, Šamaš and Ištar voted alike. How obtuse I had been! While the tlatoani interrogated me, one group of teopixque
began their journey to a distant, blue planet. The chosen few were a group of
young priests with serrated teeth, and their task was to have sexual
intercourse with the natives. In return, they said, the teopixque would reveal them
the secrets of wizardry, the forerunner of storms and eclipses, the government
of farmland and crops, fire and so much more. But
this I know. The indigenous species will then ignore and relegate us to
a world of sleepless illusions. And in the millennia to come, the locals will
challenge all evidence and light theories and petty rebuttals. No one will
remember us. I do not condemn them for it. In olden times, we abjured the past in similar fashion. The fruit has no
memory of the seed that was before. I am sorry, yes; genuinely sorry for recognising that lust motivates us even more
than the desire to avoid extinction. A new vision is showing me what is to
come, including the strange shape of the obsidian knife which soon will plough
my chest. Do not be sad, beloved Xóchitl, I need you to be my witness for
according to the ungrateful gods, greater forgetfulness awaits me.
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