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La anciana trató de moverse; primero a la derecha, luego a la izquierda, pero sin obtener resultados. Quiso pedir ayuda pero sus labios estaban sellados; incluso la lengua yacía pegada al cielo del paladar, mientras que sus manos estaban crispadas, sosteniendo las agujas de tejer. Pudo pensar que aquello era otra trombosis (el doctor le había advertido de eso) pero supo que todo se debía a esa presencia indeseada en la esquina de su habitación. El extraño personaje movió su cabeza a un lado para estudiar, como viejo y tétrico guacamayo, luego dio un paso al frente.
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Bajo el pecho, como traspasado por un enorme alfiler de azogue, Laura sintió que su corazón se contraía ante una punzada larga y dolorosa. Apenas y pudo cerrar los ojos como respuesta al dolor que le causó. El pequeño ser retrocedió y, al momento, el dolor cesó misteriosamente.
Laura recobró la elasticidad de su cuerpo. El pequeño ser estaba de nuevo relegado en la esquina. Aunque no tenía labios en aquella máscara ni bajo ella, Laura supo que él se estaba riendo. De pronto, como aquella estatua de la diosa Shiva, las seis manos comenzaron a orquestar un réquiem de dolores a diestra y siniestra. Como un director de orquesta, el pequeño demonio movía sus dedos, deformes como raíces de jengibre, y ella sentía como enormes e invisibles alfileres le penetraran el cuerpo.
Atrapada en su vieja mecedora e incapaz de luchar contra ese engendro sobrenatural, la pobre anciana chillaba con cada compás que dictaba el pequeño titiritero del infierno, moviendo sus brazos al son de una danza macabra. No veía escapatoria de aquel suplicio. Las lágrimas le caían mientras el engendro daba brincos y saltos.
La tortura cesó de pronto. Laura abrió los ojos y se encontró con el duelo de miradas que sostenía el demonio y su pequeño gato. Chupeta, como se llamaba, tenía el lomo erizado y emitía un gruñido apenas audible. El engendró meneó un par de brazos para asustar al animalito, pero este permaneció en posición de ataque.
Chupeta lanzó un zarpazo desde la puerta, la verdad es que era mucho más tierno que aterrador; sin embargo, la larga y demoníaca túnica se rasgó al momento como si unas enormes garras lo hubiesen alcanzado. El diablillo lanzó un grito estridente y un líquido púrpura comenzó a bajar por los orificios de los ojos. Chupeta de nuevo atacó, esta vez con otro gruñido, pero antes de poder tocarlo con su poder invisible, la aparición se desvaneció en el rincón…
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Many times Laura opened and closed her eyes hoping that that horrible apparition would vanish, but to no avail. Instead, it seemed to her that its figure became sharper and sharper as she insisted on making it disappear. It began as a shadow until it became fully visible in the corner of the room, as if it were a digital image that had been brightened up. Suddenly, as if brushing aside a veil of mist with her hand, terrifying features were revealed that further accentuated the woman's nervousness. The place where the face should have been was occupied by a hideous mask of a milky color, as if carved from animal bone. There seemed to be no eyes underneath, no mouth; it was a mask without details and therefore disturbing. On the deformed head there was a thin head of hair like the roots of an old tree. He had the small body of a child, covered with a long dark dress, of a color that Laura could not identify. Of the three pairs of arms he had, one pair was crossed on his chest, the other two pairs hung at his side.
The old woman tried to move; first to the right, then to the left, but to no avail. She wanted to ask for help but her lips were sealed; even her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, while her hands were twitching, holding the knitting needles. She might have thought it was another thrombosis (the doctor had warned her about that) but she knew it was all due to that unwanted presence in the corner of her room. The strange personage moved his head to one side to study, like a gloomy old macaw, then stepped forward.
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Under her chest, as if pierced by a huge quicksilver pin, Laura felt her heart contract with a long, painful pang. She could barely close her eyes in response to the pain it caused her. The small being recoiled and, at once, the pain mysteriously ceased.
Laura regained the elasticity of her body. The little being was once again relegated to the corner. Although he had no lips on or under that mask, Laura knew he was laughing. Suddenly, like that statue of the goddess Shiva, the six hands began to orchestrate a requiem of pains left and right. Like a conductor, the little demon moved his fingers, deformed like ginger roots, and she felt as if huge, invisible pins were penetrating her body.
Trapped in her old rocking chair and unable to fight that supernatural creature, the poor old woman shrieked with each beat dictated by the little puppeteer from hell, moving her arms to the sound of a macabre dance. She saw no escape from that ordeal. Tears flowed down his eyes as the creature jumped and leapt.
The torture suddenly stopped. Laura opened her eyes and found herself in the duel of glances between the demon and her little cat. Chupeta, as he was called, had his back bristling and emitted a barely audible growl. The begetter waved a pair of arms to scare the little animal, but it remained in an attack position.
Chupeta launched a swipe from the doorway, truth be told it was far more tender than terrifying; however, the long, demonic robe ripped at once as if huge claws had reached it. The imp let out a shrill scream and a purple liquid began to flow down its eye sockets. Chupeta again attacked, this time with another growl, but before he could touch it with his invisible power, the apparition vanished into the corner....
Regaining her mobility, Laura pounced on her little feline and showered him with kisses and blessings. The little Chupeta, with his claws full of a stinking and dark liquid, meowed in annoyance and tried to escape from his mistress.
Esta traducción fue hecha con la ayuda de DeepL Translate
