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Sick who does not dance dies.

 -Say Whisky

This week we have the partnership of Paris Ramirez Acosta, 3rd year student of Degree in Literature and Creative Writing. He is the author of this story where he tells the story of an unconscious young man who lives a story full of paranormal events.

Hidden in a cubicle breath fogs the glass, breath fogs the glass, they whispered in my ear. I let out a long puff that reached some mirror. I drew a grimace with some index finger and took a deep breath. From the window the night was seeping in. A night of black latex, whose dancing dulled the sounds of the city. I went out. Emerald and currant neon lights set the mood at cafeteria Atemporal. The sight was one of crowded individuals furiously waving their limbs, keeping you company to the rhythm of the marimba. Someone showed me where my seat was and led me to it. When I arrived, Sor Juana and José Revueltas were waiting for me, or was it Cortés and La Malinche? It doesn't really matter. I sat down. My foamy one had settled down and was watching me clairvoyantly from her well. I looked back at her. No one said anything so I took a sip. The liquid in my throat crackled as the table turned into a cenote and Revueltas, yes, I think it was Revueltas, handed me a vine which I used as a zip line to throw myself straight into the sacrifice. The cave grew dark as it welcomed me. Glad to have lost my way, I submerged. With cold and brio I searched for the dinosaurs in the serenity of the water. I swam for leagues, greeted bats and entered the Xibalbá with arduous plainness. However, I found no luck. So, when I was already inside, but very deep into the depths of the universe, the waters began to shiver; the bushes caught fire and the cenote in whirlpools emptied. The moonlight was already far away and a sinister pachuco was playing his saxophone leaning against the trunk of a ceiba tree. The individual began to advance towards me, performing a zigzagging dance to the sound of his vociferous forges. When we were face to face he stopped his music and let the saxophone be blown away by the wind. The pachuco took off his hat and bowed to me. His face, far from resembling that of a Christian, was cadaverous and instead of hair he wore the skin of an owl on his skinned skull. From his nostrils emanated a fetid, putrid stench, corporeal in a greenish mist. He looked at me fixedly and silently. He pulled out from I don't know where a little bag of Golden Virginia. I watched him dumbfounded. I opened my mouth trying to say something to him. He raised his free hand and showed me his palm, preventing me from approaching. Then I waited for him to roll a cigarette. When he finished, he offered it to me. With nothing else to do, I decided to take it. "Thank you...what can I call you?" I asked, to which he told me not to bother him as he was busy rolling his own cigar. When he finished, he snapped his fingers and a small flame awoke on the tip of his fingers. With this he lit both cigars. "Ready," he said. "This will help hide the smell." It was true. The green mist mixed with the tobacco smoke and the smells gradually dissipated. We both stood smoking at the bottom of an empty cenote until the individual broke the silence: 

-YumKimil, Ah Puch, Kisín. Tell me as you wish. I am all and also none. I am a living being, but I live among the dead. You, who have been affected by your times, will come with me. 

-To go with you? To do what or what? -I asked. 

-It doesn't matter. 

 -What if I don't want to go? It turns out they're waiting for cafeteria. 

-It doesn't matter either," he said and took a last puff of his cigarette. He threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it. Maybe you can go back to cafeteria. But you have to do something for me.

-I am ready. What do I have to do?

-Dancewith me, mulix .

-Mr. Kisín, it seems to me that you leave me no choice. I will dance with you. 

What happened next was fleeting. Dogs and monkeys appeared from the surrounding area and landed around us in a circle. Each of the animals had a drum strapped to their chests. They began to play them in a shocking tempo that I never managed to decipher. The sun shone from the horizon highlighting us in the darkness of the cave. From the same sun a jaguar came down and in the branches of the ceiba tree he whined an ocarina. With the music in the background, the flatulent one soon let loose and performed a wild dance. I kept up with him, trying to catch his movements and imitate them, but not without stumbling several times. The spectators cheered, thrilled by our back and forth. Our bodies moved closer and farther apart; they circled and meandered. So we stayed, ignoring the eternal fatigue and the suffocating humidity until the jewels of the sky finished decorating it. Finally, we finally ended up sweating, lying in the cold of the stones.

-Ihope you know now that as long as you dance with the stars, they will be kind to you. Remember my words and the winds of Hurakan will help you to return.

I sighed in relief when I heard that sentence. My glasses, dirty with sweat and smoke, would not let me see him go, so I took them off and exhaled over them. At once, a thorny gale lifted me off the ground and slammed me into the jaguar's ceiba tree. From the blow, I fainted. I never knew how many hours passed, but when I awoke, I was back at cafeteria Atemporal. My companions, as well as the other people, were gone. As soon as I had the chance, I asked the waitress to take my beer.

If you liked the article, you might be interested in one of our Degrees!

Language and Spanish Literature

language and Spanish Literature + Creative Writing



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