El viento susurra su nombre🖤🌪️ / The Wind Whispers His Name 🖤🌪️(ESP-ENG)
Dicen que algunas veces el viento susurra su nombre.
Aaron tenía la impresión de que esta vez tendría éxito.
—"Rómpete la pierna" —le dijo su madre dándole un guiño y sonriendo mientras el chico salía por la puerta para acudir a su entrevista laboral.
Su proyecto de ingeniería civil estaba perfectamente estructurado, con metas claras e ideas innovadoras que revolucionarían a la empresa que lo contratara.
Conducía alegre, motivado a triunfar. Giró la cabeza un leve instante para poner música en su móvil —"I Feel Like a Monster", de Skillet—. Al regresar la vista, le pareció pasar por encima de algo o alguien. Sintió las ruedas del coche subir y bajar, y se aterró.
Tembloroso, quitó la música y bajó del coche. Pero al revisar no había nada: ni una elevación, ni un bache, ningún cuerpo humano o animal. La calle estaba desierta. Sin embargo, en la parte delantera izquierda de su coche había una abolladura, y la luz estaba rota. El chico tocó el sitio, buscando qué podía haberlo causado, pues no recordaba haber chocado antes.
Al notar la hora, se apresuró a volver a su auto. Aunque estaba aturdido, logró explicar los puntos de su proyecto y consiguió el trabajo.
Al salir, buscó su coche en el estacionamiento, pero no estaba. Un sudor frío le recorrió la espalda.
—"¿Será que no fue en este sitio?" —pensó, y buscó por todo el lugar.
Usó su llave para detectar el sonido que le diría dónde estaba su coche. Cuando finalmente lo escuchó, encontró apenas unas piezas mal ensambladas: el sistema intacto, pero la carrocería consumida, como si algo corrosivo la hubiera devorado desde el lado izquierdo.
Nadie pudo darle una explicación. No había agentes químicos ni sustancias extrañas. Dejó el caso en manos de profesionales, y la policía cerró el sitio.
Esa noche llegó a casa y le contó a su madre, sin dar muchos detalles para no preocuparla.
A la mañana siguiente, los gritos rompieron el silencio:
—"¡¡Mamaaaaaá, mi pierna!!"
Su madre corrió y lo encontró en el suelo, con la pierna izquierda desprendida del cuerpo, sangrando y gritando de dolor y pánico. El olor metálico impregnaba la habitación.
En el hospital no podían explicarlo. No estaba enfermo, no parecía un corte de arma blanca. Era como si la parte desprendida hubiera sido consumida poco a poco por una sustancia corrosiva.
Fue un despertar de horror. No podía creer que, después de ver sus sueños laborales tan cerca, ahora estuviera en una pesadilla que aún no era capaz de procesar.
Los análisis no mostraban nada. Estaba ingresado bajo vigilancia estricta.
El segundo amanecer fue aún más terrible. Esta vez no tuvo fuerzas para gritar. Su garganta estaba semidesgarrada, su labio deforme, dándole una apariencia escalofriante, como si una mina hubiera estallado cerca y le hubiera deformado todo el lado izquierdo de la cara.
Su madre solo lloraba. Apenas podía mirarlo sin casi reconocerlo. Él quería decir o hacer algo, pero le aterraba el solo pensar siquiera en acercarse a ver su reflejo. Todos lo miraban perplejos y con lástima.
Cada amanecer era peor. Su vitalidad caía sin explicación, y los destrozos solo ocurrían en silencio, mientras dormía. Igual que le había pasado a su coche mientras estuvo aparcado.
Al sexto día, lo que quedaba de Aaron ya no era reconocible. Su madre solo lloraba. El silencio que siguió a su entierro fue más atroz que cualquier grito.
Y su coche también se consumió, sin motivo, hasta ser chatarra.
El viento lo sabe. Conoce la causa. Y a veces, cuando nadie escucha, susurra su nombre. Conoce a quien reclamó la vida de Aaron. Y aún hoy se alimenta de lo que de él quedó.
ENGLISH VERSION
They say that sometimes the wind whispers his name.
Aaron had a feeling that this time he would succeed.
—"Break a leg" —his mother said with a wink and a smile as he walked out the door to go to his job interview.
His civil engineering project was perfectly structured, with clear goals and innovative ideas that would revolutionize the company that hired him.
He drove happily, motivated to succeed. He turned his head for a brief moment to put on music on his phone —"I Feel Like a Monster" by Skillet—. When he looked back at the road, he felt as if he had run over something or someone. He felt the car's wheels go up and down, and he was terrified.
Trembling, he turned off the music and got out of the car. But when he checked, there was nothing: no bump, no pothole, no human or animal body. The street was deserted. However, on the front left side of his car, there was a dent, and the light was broken. He touched the spot, searching for what could have caused it, since he didn't remember ever crashing before.
Noticing the time, he hurried back into his car. Although he was dazed, he managed to explain the points of his project and got the job.
When he came out, he looked for his car in the parking lot, but it wasn't there. A cold sweat ran down his back.
—"Maybe it wasn't here?" —he thought, and searched the whole place.
He used his key to detect the sound that would tell him where his car was. When he finally heard it, all he found were a few poorly assembled pieces: the system intact, but the body consumed, as if something corrosive had devoured it from the left side.
No one could explain it. There were no chemical agents or strange substances. He left the case in the hands of professionals, and the police closed off the area.
That night he went home and told his mother, without giving too many details so as not to worry her.
The next morning, screams broke the silence:
—"Mooooom, my leg!!"
His mother ran and found him on the floor, his left leg detached from his body, bleeding and screaming in pain and panic. The metallic smell filled the room.
At the hospital, no one could explain it. He wasn't sick; it didn't look like a cut from a knife. It was as if the detached part had been slowly consumed by a corrosive substance.
It was a horrifying awakening. He couldn't believe that, after seeing his work dreams so close, he was now in a nightmare he still couldn't process.
The tests showed nothing. He was admitted under strict surveillance.
The second dawn was even more terrible. This time he didn't have the strength to scream. His throat was half-torn, his lip deformed, giving him a chilling appearance, as if a mine had exploded nearby and deformed the entire left side of his face.
His mother just cried. She could barely look at him without almost failing to recognize him. He wanted to say or do something, but he was terrified of even thinking about getting close enough to see his reflection. Everyone looked at him bewildered and with pity.
Every dawn was worse. His vitality dropped without explanation, and the destruction only happened in silence, while he slept. Just as it had happened to his car while it was parked.
By the sixth day, what was left of Aaron was no longer recognizable. His mother just cried. The silence that followed his burial was more atrocious than any scream.
And his car also consumed itself, for no reason, until it was scrap metal.
The wind knows. It knows the cause. And sometimes, when no one is listening, it whispers his name. It knows who claimed Aaron's life. And even today, it feeds on what was left of him.
English translation with Google Translate/ Traducción al inglés con Traductor de Google
Imagen creada con IA / AI-generated image