Era una tarde extraña. A lo lejos se escuchaba el aullar de los perros, algo presentían. Hacía frío. Caminaba rápidamente, pues, alguien me seguía muy de cerca. Sus fuertes pisadas resonaban en mis oídos, la alfombra gramínea no impedía el sonido de aquellos pasos. Por un instante sentí su calor aproximarse presintiendo que me atacaría, comencé a correr, dejando atrás la sombra de mi acosador.
Los árboles suplicaban el regreso de la primavera, para cubrir sus ramas resecas por el invierno. Era largo el camino a casa, miré de soslayo y de nuevo estaba allí, recostado de un tronco seco. Su figura larga, cubierta por una amplia capa negra aterciopelada, se aproximaba sigilosamente.
De pronto, el entorno fue envuelto en una espesa bruma, haciéndome perder el sentido de orientación. Ya nada distingo, pues todo el lugar era idéntico. Dudé por un instante, si regresar o quedarme tranquila y tratar de controlar mi angustia. Miré al rededor, temblando de miedo ante este momento de incertidumbre.
Se escuchan voces murmurar, como si varias personas estuvieran conversando. No logro ver a nadie. Solo el ancho bosque de árboles secos y desnudos. Mientras avanzo, las voces se acrecientan, ríen y lloran. Mi cuerpo comienza a temblar nuevamente. No sé si caminar, o correr, o quedarme a esperar lo que sea, que me estuviese persiguiendo.
Un helado ventarrón caló mis huesos, solo eso me faltaba. Sentía mi cuerpo caliente como en estado febril. Decidí acercarme al grupo de personas para pedir auxilio y al aproximarme, solo había unas sillas de madera envejecidas por los embates del tiempo. No hubo persona alguna allí, ni vestigio de presencia humana.
El ambiente lúgubre ya colmaba mis sentidos, decido descansar, agotada de tanto caminar en círculos. Cierro mis ojos para así esperar, no sé qué cosa. Frágil, presa de miedo, y temblorosa, me senté en una de esas sillas vacías. De pronto sentí que me halaron, levantaron, y tiraron al suelo. No había ruido alguno, pero las sillas estaban ocupadas, era realmente un aquelarre.
La intrusa era yo.
Un silencio escalofriante me inmovilizó. Algo o alguien de profunda y fuerte mirada me observaba. Una imagen perturbadora, casi me enloquece. Era un macho cabrío, rodeado de serviles brujas, arrastradas ante su amo, que besaban sus partes pudendas.
Me levanté del suelo, como pude, llena de barro. Nuevamente, sentí un empujón, al caer, me atacaron cruelmente, era como si las hubiese insultado, por un momento me sentí volar por los aires escuchando sus carcajadas.
Eran ellas, aquellas que mi abuelo contaba, las brujas que vivían por lugares boscosos y que un día regresarían a buscar a sus ancestros regados por el mundo. Se dice que en la zona arbórea que rodea mi casa, existía un pueblo habitado por mujeres que practicaban la brujería.
Fue tal la golpiza, que dejaron mi humanidad al desnudo. Me incorporé como pude al despuntar el alba. Ya se veían los tímidos rayos del sol alumbrar el camino. Con mis ojos hinchados y a rastras, traté de avanzar, pero me encontraba tan maltratada que perdí el conocimiento...
Al despertar, me encontraba en una casa, atada con cordeles de plata, y con una corona de muérdago, planta cuyos poderes sobrenaturales, protegen contra los seres malignos, además sirve para atraer al amor y la fertilidad. (Según leyendas, de los Druidas)
Pero, ¿Qué hacía yo en ese lugar? Supuse que era prisionera de los que me agredieron la noche anterior, ¿Cómo llegué allí?, ¿Qué ocurrió luego de mi desmayo?, me preguntaba. Eso sí, sin pronunciar palabra alguna.
De repente escuché unas pisadas cuyo discreto sonido, era similar al de unas sandalias. El chirriar de la puerta me hizo estremecer, no abrí mis ojos, pues no sabía qué cosa me estaba pasando y el miedo me dominaba.
El aire era denso, con una fragancia herbórea. Me recordaba el perfume que mi abuela usaba cuando iba de paseo al bosque. Antes de salir, hojeaba un libro muy antiguo recuerdo que lo llamaba su grimorio. Ella solía preparar menjurjes con esencia de las plantas que recolectaba en el campo.
Sentí unas manos muy suaves lavando mis pies. Mientras los remojaba, curaba mis maltratadas carnes con algo aceitoso y fresco a la vez. Aquello era mágico. Me inspiraba confianza.
Así fue como pude abrir mis ojos y lo que vi, me impresionó aún más que el horror que viví. Fue un resplandor que, en primera instancia, me impedía ver su rostro, solo su figura esbelta de andar sereno y pausado. Sus manos eran largas, uñas limpias y cortas, vestía de blondo tul y brillante seda de un blanco prístino...
¡Era ella!, ¡Mi abuela! ¡La vi, la recordé, solo por su olor! Aquellas manos que sentí cuando era niña, y me quejaba. Ella, ungía mi cuerpo, con un aceite de olor afrutado, y mágicamente me sanaba. ¡Regresó en un momento crucial de mi vida!
It was a strange afternoon. In the distance you could hear the dogs howling, they sensed something. It was cold. I walked quickly, because someone was following me closely. His strong footsteps resounded in my ears, the grassy carpet did not prevent the sound of those footsteps. For an instant I felt its heat approaching, sensing that it would attack me, I began to run, leaving behind the shadow of my stalker.
The trees were begging for the return of spring, to cover their branches parched by the winter. It was a long way home, I glanced sideways and there he was again, leaning against a dry trunk. His long figure, covered by a wide velvety black cloak, was stealthily approaching.
Suddenly, the surroundings were enveloped in a thick mist, making me lose my sense of direction. I could no longer distinguish anything, for the whole place was identical. I hesitated for a moment, whether to go back or to stay calm and try to control my anguish. I looked around, trembling with fear at this moment of uncertainty.
I hear voices murmuring, as if several people were talking. I can't see anyone. Only the wide forest of dry and bare trees. As I move forward, the voices grow louder, laughing and crying. My body begins to tremble again. I don't know whether to walk, or run, or stay and wait for whatever was chasing me.
An icy blizzard chilled my bones, that's all I was missing. My body felt hot as if in a feverish state. I decided to approach the group of people to ask for help and when I got closer, there were only a few wooden chairs aged by the ravages of time. There was no person there, no trace of human presence.
The gloomy atmosphere already filled my senses, I decide to rest, exhausted from so much walking in circles. I close my eyes to wait, I don't know what. Fragile, afraid and trembling, I sat down on one of those empty chairs. Suddenly I felt myself being pulled, lifted, and thrown to the floor. There was no noise, but the chairs were occupied, it was really a coven.
I was the intruder.
A chilling silence immobilized me. Something or someone with a deep and strong gaze was watching me. A disturbing image, it almost drove me crazy. It was a billy goat, surrounded by servile witches, groveling before their master, kissing their private parts.
I got up from the ground, as best I could, full of mud. Again, I felt a push, as I fell, they attacked me cruelly, it was as if I had insulted them, for a moment I felt myself flying through the air listening to their laughter.
It was them, the ones my grandfather told me about, the witches that lived in wooded places and that one day they would return to look for their ancestors scattered around the world. It is said that in the wooded area surrounding my house, there was a village inhabited by women who practiced witchcraft.
It was such a beating that my humanity was left naked. I sat up as best I could at the break of dawn. The timid rays of the sun could already be seen lighting the way. With my eyes swollen and crawling, I tried to move forward, but I was so badly beaten that I lost consciousness....
When I awoke, I found myself in a house, tied with silver cords, and with a crown of mistletoe, a plant whose supernatural powers protect against evil beings, and also serves to attract love and fertility (according to the legends of the Druids).
But what was I doing in that place? I assumed that I was a prisoner of those who attacked me the night before, how did I get there, what happened after I fainted, I wondered. That is, without uttering a word.
Suddenly I heard footsteps whose discreet sound was similar to that of sandals. The creaking of the door made me shudder, I did not open my eyes, because I did not know what was happening to me and fear dominated me.
The air was thick, with an herbal fragrance. It reminded me of the perfume my grandmother used to wear when she went for a walk in the woods. Before going out, she would leaf through a very old book I remember calling her grimoire. She used to prepare herbal remedies with the essence of the plants she collected in the field.
I felt very soft hands washing my feet. As she soaked them, she cured my battered flesh with something oily and fresh at the same time. It was magical. It gave me confidence.
That's how I was able to open my eyes and what I saw impressed me even more than the horror I experienced. It was a glow that, at first glance, prevented me from seeing her face, only her slender figure with a serene and leisurely gait. Her hands were long, her nails were clean and short, she was dressed in soft tulle and shiny silk of pristine white....
It was her, my grandmother! I saw her, I remembered her, just by her smell! Those hands that I felt when I was a child, and I complained. She anointed my body with a fruity-smelling oil and magically healed me. She came back at a crucial moment in my life!
Amigos, 
Friends,
