THE HUNT

We intended to find her in the afternoon, when the light grows and the fog wanes, so we gathered, a handful of armed men who until that moment had seemed strong, determined and invincible. The woods would be close and the road would be good, but it took us a long time to get there, forced to skirt cold streams, climb huge rocks, avoid deep craters and fallen trees.

The woods were a true nightmare scenario with its steep, dark and uneven terrain that it forced us to go around endlessly, only to realize that little or no progress had been made. The ominous song of hidden birds, the insistent roar of rushing water, the muffled sound of our own hearts beating out of step, all contributed to that feeling that we were being enveloped by a dark and ghostly atmosphere, which left us dizzy and confused.

But we finally made it. In the late afternoon we saw the rough gray hut just above the ravine. Because of the persistent fog, it seemed to float above the earth. Next to the shack, there was a plethora of charred and twisted logs on a ground full of sharp gravel where a plethora of insects crawled among the bones and carcasses of small animals.

When she appeared at the door, we cocked our weapons and among us I was the only one to speak. First I asked about the accident that caused the death of my son, then I asked about the reason for the persistent pests in the crops. Finally, I wanted to know why there were eternally dark clouds over the city and what was causing the death of our creations.

A deep silence filled the place. The witch stretched her arms out in front of her and I could see that one of her hands had been grossly amputated. She arched her body and spun in a circle twice, immediately causing a sick feeling to envelop us all. She then went still and began to speak. Her soft voice was incompatible with her decrepitude and old age, her face fierce, her hair dirty and disheveled, her skin gray.

She said she was getting revenge on the boy who had mutilated her and also on those who didn't come to her rescue when she was injured, on those who in the city had always insulted her with words, thoughts and looks. As she spoke, a strange feeling of nausea and discomfort grew, as if her words contained an invisible poison. When she finally fell silent, beside me one of the men began to vomit, his eyes simply lost their shine and he fell onto the rocks, slowly twisting and moaning, until he was tottaly quiet.

Farther back, one of the men slowly pointed the gun at his own head and without saying a word, squeezed the trigger and slumped inertly onto the gravel, the bang startling the black birds that flew confusedly over the house. Another two or three shots were fired by the men and one of them hit the witch's leg, who just turned around, faced everyone with an insolent smile and opened her mouth wide, making a dark substance spurt out of her. direction.

I jumped into the ravine, hearing the sound of a thousand insects, of footsteps on dry branches, of howling near and far, and finally, just before I fainted, I saw like in a dream the image of the witch walking in the middle of the road, the braking suddenness of a car trying to dodge her and the dull thud as it hit her in the arm. The vehicle overturned and it was then that I heard the voice of my only and beloved son screaming for help among the wreckage. His voice got weaker, then he just sighed and died. I saw people trying to help him, pulling him out of the car as the old woman got up from the ground, holding her lacerated arm with her other hand and walking away, her mouth muttering incomprehensible words, leaving behind her a trail of blood in the roadbed.

When my conscience returned, a huge and overwhelming sadness invaded my heart. I couldn't stop crying and sobbing. I finally managed to open my eyes, saw that the body of one of the men had been cut in half, one of which was bleeding onto the shack's tiles, forming a red puddle on the floor. The other half had been impaled and was swinging grotesquely from a stake in front of the house. I could still see the witch looking up at a sky that was rapidly darkening, a sky that was suddenly disgusting and sinful. All around me, all those lifeless bodies. Realizing that only I had survived, I crawled through the ravine to the entrance to the woods, hearing on the way confused and overlapping voices, desecrated church bells, organic turbines of strange machines, wails and screams of deep pain. The nightmare didn't seem to end and it was only a long time later that I finally managed to control the tears, walk through the woods and return here.

Now, through the crack in the door, I see the fury of the wind destroying the city. The black clouds are so close that it would be possible to touch them with your hands, the wind turns them into a vortex that rips the fences, the plants, sweeps the streets. Overhead, the dim light of a filthy moon can barely illuminate the witch's footsteps limping down the main street, her dress in tatters, whipped by the wind. She stops, she looks around. She raises her arms and screams so loud and hard I feel my chest opening like a huge crack. A wave of pain and cruelty shakes the Earth and finally I feel your warm, comfortable and silent embrace, my son.

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