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Una bella mujer y su deseo de ser madre, Pontianak. Es un espΓritu uno triste y lleno de terror, era una mujer, mortal y simple, que muriΓ³ durante su embarazo, algunos dicen que justo antes de dar a luz. Un ritual para que su criatura no muriera la atΓ³ a este mundo, la dejΓ³ sin un lugar a donde ir.
Aun asΓ quizΓ‘s ese mismo ritual fue el causante de que a pesar, de no ser un demonio puro, sea tan poderoso, o quizΓ‘s es simplemente el dolor emocional que supera el fΓsico de la muerte, el dolor emocional de vivir en la pena del peregrinaje entre el mundo de los vivos y muertos, sin ver a su hijo.
Algunos datan su registro de hace mΓ‘s de 100 aΓ±os en Malasia, ahΓ es muy temida, tanto que a muchos cadΓ‘veres se les clava en la nuca un clavo para evitar que se conviertan en un ser parecido.
De su piel sale un aroma peculiar como al de los jazmines de muerto, otros dicen que huele como a vinagre de manzanas descompuesto. A veces se anuncia a travΓ©s del llanto de un bebΓ© pequeΓ±o, un llanto que cambia de direcciΓ³n repentinamente, un llanto que altera a los perros haciΓ©ndolos aullar de una forma poco comΓΊn, primero tres aullidos cortos seguidos de un silencio largo y otra vez los tres aullidos cortos.
Algunos hablan sobre su belleza, como su mejor rasgo, una belleza que solo atrae a los hombres infieles y a los padres ausentes, sus uΓ±as son largas, sus ojos son rojos, pero su sonrisa es cΓ‘lida y plΓ‘cida. Algunos dice que solo siente envidia de las mujeres que han quedado embarazadas.
Este espΓritu tiene varias debilidades registradas, una de ellas es que no puede entrar a una casa sin ser invitada, pero aun asΓ, tiene la habilidad de cambiar su voz por la de cualquier ser querido, para provocar el engaΓ±o.
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Marcus oliΓ³ algo en el aire aquella noche un aroma como de flores mustias, era martes y eran las 3 y 17 de la madrugada, no habΓa Γ‘rbol o jardΓn en aquella desolada calle. Marcus habΓa bajado a fumar un cigarillo, mientras su esposa SofΓa dormΓa plΓ‘cidamente, mientras en el vientre cargaba a su hijo de ocho meses. El vientre de SofΓa era grande y cΓ‘lido, una futura madre llena de vida y llena de salud.
Junto a la llama del cigarrillo de Marcus se quemaba tambiΓ©n un secreto, hacΓa 5 meses que le era infiel a su esposa, habΓa conocido a aquella joven una tarde de domingo, mientras paseaba a sus perros. ComenzΓ³ como encuentros casuales, de amigos, un beso robada, la pasiΓ³n furtiva. El romance embriagaba los deseos de Marcus, pero a la vez lo atormentaba con constante miedo a ser descubierto.
Hasta aquΓ, hasta hoy- le escribiΓ³ Marcus a su joven amante en un mensaje y presionΓ³ el enviar, entonces sacΓ³ otro cigarillo, y lo encendiΓ³ esperando la respuesta en su telΓ©fono. El humo del cigarrillo y el aroma en el aire a pΓ©talos mustios hizo que Marcus sintiera revoltura en su estΓ³mago y se mareara, a punto de perder la conciencia por un instante.
-Necesito hablar contigo, o le contarΓ© todo a tu mujer -una voz familiar hizo que Marcus recobrara la compostura.
Ante Γ©l estaba en las sombras su amante, con el rostro apenas visible por la oscuridad de la noche.
-No hay nada que hablar, te lo dejΓ© claro en el mensaje.
-Si no hablamos gritarΓ©, despertarΓ© a todo el vecindario, despertarΓ© a tu mujer
-EstΓ‘ bien pero pasa a dentro de la casa
Marcus vio como su amante lo atravesaba, Marcus vio como el olor lo envolvΓa todo, hasta que despertΓ³ a la maΓ±ana siguiente en la mirilla de un policΓa, frente a su casa, una cinta amarilla cruzaba la puerta.
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π’π°π±π¦ππ―πΆ β¦
A beautiful woman and her longing to be a mother: Pontianak. She is a sad and terrifying spirit, a mortal and simple woman who died during her pregnancy, some say just before giving birth. A ritual to prevent her child from dying bound her to this world, leaving her with nowhere to go.
Even so, perhaps that same ritual is what makes her so powerful, despite not being a pure demon. Or perhaps it is simply the emotional pain that surpasses the physical pain of death, the emotional anguish of living in the sorrow of wandering between the world of the living and the dead, without seeing her child.
Some trace her origins back more than 100 years in Malaysia, where she is greatly feared. So much so that many corpses have a nail driven into the back of their necks to prevent them from transforming into a being similar to her.
Her skin emits a peculiar scent, like that of jasmine blossoms; others say it smells like spoiled apple cider vinegar. Sometimes it announces itself through the cry of a small baby, a cry that suddenly changes direction, a cry that disturbs dogs, making them howl in an unusual way: first three short howls followed by a long silence, and then the three short howls again.
Some speak of its beauty as its best feature, a beauty that only attracts unfaithful men and absent fathers. Its nails are long, its eyes are red, but its smile is warm and serene. Some say it only envies women who have become pregnant.
This spirit has several recorded weaknesses. One is that it cannot enter a house uninvited, but even so, it has the ability to change its voice to that of any loved one, to cause deception.
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Marcus smelled something in the air that night, a scent like withered flowers. It was Tuesday, 3:17 a.m., and there wasn't a tree or a garden on that desolate street. Marcus had gone downstairs to smoke a cigarette while his wife, Sofia, slept peacefully, carrying their eight-month-old son. Sofia's belly was large and warm, a mother-to-be full of life and health.
Along with the flame of Marcus's cigarette, a secret was also burning. He had been unfaithful to his wife for five months. He had met this young woman one Sunday afternoon while walking his dogs. It began as casual encounters, like friends, a stolen kiss, furtive passion. The romance intoxicated Marcus's desires, but at the same time tormented him with the constant fear of being discovered.
"This is it, today," Marcus wrote to his young lover in a message and pressed send. Then he took out another cigarette and lit it, waiting for a reply on his phone. The cigarette smoke and the scent of withered petals in the air made Marcus feel nauseous and dizzy, almost fainting for a moment.
"I need to talk to you, or I'll tell your wife everything," a familiar voice said, bringing Marcus back to his senses.
Before him stood his lover in the shadows, his face barely visible in the darkness of the night.
"There's nothing to talk about. I made that clear in the message."
"If we don't talk, I'll scream, I'll wake up the whole neighborhood, I'll wake up your wife."
"Fine, but come inside."
Marcus watched as his lover walked through the door. Marcus felt the scent envelop him, until he woke up the next morning looking into a police officer's peephole, across from his house. Yellow tape stretched across the door.