WAXINIKDRAT

I never stayed in that formidable place so long. The air was charged and acrid. My eyes burned and the taste of earth in my mouth returned. It took me a while to realize that I was naked, like before. The sickness caused by the animal's gallop made me sleepy and weak, resisting on the rump like a tree leaf withstands the autumn winds. I fell like rotten fruit fallen from the foot. The horse stopped. I don't know how long I was out. When I woke up, the old sensations caused by the place invaded my senses and I didn't see Pegasus, the horse anymore. But it was snowing and the cold started to ruffle my hair and freeze my nerves. I suspect that the landscape has changed during the time I was unconscious. I did not see that immense mountain range that sprang from the moving indentations of enraged tectonic plates. Mountains so absurdly high that you couldn't see the top, covered by clouds. I kept walking while the snow accumulated on the ground. I didn't do it on my own, I was induced by an invisible force that guided me, like that hideous priest in the church. When I came across the base of the mountain, the most intense snow blurred my vision, which made me take a long time to see the blocks of ice, until I hit them. Six blocks of ice forming a semicircle like a miniature Stonehenge. In each of them a person and an animal. Nubky and the bear, the priest and the dove beside him, and finally a young man and a doe, from the last story in the book probably, which I had not read. The bear in attack position, the dove in flight and the doe in alert position. I still gathered convincing information that corroborated the sting of a vision confused by delirium, when I heard that cry of suffering and death. A lion devoured a tamer who still had the whip in one hand. His open belly served as a plate, while ribs and muscles were broken and smashed with extreme violence and greed. When he noticed my presence, the lion stopped, staring at me.

Then the animal and the man who served it as a snack dissolved in the snow like ice as it melted. Two other blocks were projected with the six existing ones, from where the tamer and the lion emerged. The unrestrained chain of events that unfolded there, so absurd, had its peak in the thawing of the blocks in which the animals were. They started to chase me from the positions they were in when frozen. On the run I fell and while trying to lean on something solid I felt and saw the church floor. Around me the old butts and the priest stared at me in amazement and gaping.

They were figures for me. I tried to protect myself from them. I had the feeling that they were attacking me. I didn't have my ideas and thinking in order. Tormented, I feared my own shadow and screamed hysterically, shrinking and dragging me across the floor. When the priest touched me, I looked at him in terror, because I heard a loud cooing and turned to see where it came from. In place of the priest's head, the head of the white dove, proportional to the size of a human head. I cooed and screeched, enraged, with red eyes and thrusting against my body, pecking me out of control. I turned and crawled around and skidded off skating to get rid of that demon in my imagination. But I fell with open arms and exhausted on the three butts in front of me. One with the lion's head, another with the bear's head and another with the doe's head. They were demons so real that they devastated me that I lost the ground. I lacked air and did not know how much more I could resist. The doe-headed girl held me tightly by the collar of my shirt and shook me. Then a bloody purple, disgusting and fetid vomit spewed over me. I cried and asked to stop it, but I was not heard. The other butts and the priest were laughing and making inhuman grunts and sounds. I surrendered to them while that horror show was taking place. I no longer had the strength or psychological conditions to fight. With my face on the floor, all vomited and dirty, I closed my eyes and concentrated, to isolate anything from the external environment and internalize all my impressions and sensations. But the evil, when I realized what I wanted, was stronger and one of the butts spoke, which I could not ignore: - Death is closer now. You cannot hide, son. Embrace the doe. Don't let the doe run after you. Just hug her. Come on!

How much of that can someone really take? When you think you can have a normal life, it doesn't take long and everything comes back. It always comes back. The pain, the fear, the strangeness. Seek comfort in God and find the devil himself? The infernal shadows that torment madmen? If not even death could put an end to all that, could I already be dead and living eternal punishment in hell? It was the most logical. what else could it be? I left the church and started to hide. Sneak around the corners. Running away from acquaintances, wanting to get away from it all. Then, to complete I realized that I was being followed.

A tall guy, wearing a hat and overcoat. Blond, he had a ridiculous thin beard. Maybe 40 years. I've noticed him since I left the church. But when you can no longer see what is real and what is not, it takes a while. He was on foot. So he was already following me. He saw me entering the church and waited for me to leave. I ran to dodge him. I looked back and saw him running, too. I knew the cover was lost. Was discovered. It was all or nothing for him. A police investigator? Did you have questions about Agenor? What did I miss? And if I ran, wouldn't it be worse? It would raise more suspicions. They were close. One hour they'll hit home. If I run away it will be worse. I can say that I got scared, so I ran. Better surrender. It is not? I went into an alley and waited. He didn't see me. As I passed, I grabbed him from behind and immobilized him with an arm lock. - You're following me! Who are you, what do you want? It's good to be talking. If you will not regret it.

- I'm an investigator, okay? And you better let me go. If you can't get even more complicated. You are suspected of murder. Agenor, your stepfather. Damn it. You twisted my arm. Bastard! Do you fight, or what? - I do jiu-jitsu, yes. I know how to defend myself. - He's a boy. But that cannot help you with the law. You will have to explain yourself. I did not want it to be like this. Nice to meet you, I'm Detective Borges, "he said, introducing himself and offering me his hand to greet him. - Can we talk in a better place? Instead of this dirty alley?

I said everything that that detective wanted to know. But he was not satisfied, asking more questions and being smug, laughing at me sometimes. The truth is, I had no evidence that could incriminate me. So all I could do was ask questions. This detective was a pain in the ass filling me up than the things in the book. All that absurd nightmare. It was real there. I had killed someone and now they were investigating. If it weren't for the circumstances and I think I might even sympathize with the guy. He looked a little like me. What happens is that we drink a lot more than we should and we both end up talking too much. He told me about one Cecília he had sex with. A call girl and I talked about some of my adventures with students.

- How do you still teach at this school, man? You suck! If I were the father of one of your students and found out that you hit on my daughter, I swear I would kill you. - Regurgitated Borges. What a beautiful detective this is. Good. At this point, I couldn't brag. I was also as drunk and I don't even remember what I may or may not have said. What if I complicate myself and talked too much? And he fires to drink and was as sober as the door? He got me. Will be? I do not know. But I will continue to count anyway. I will know the result at one time or another. - Boy, do you know what Waxinikdrat is? - I do not know. What stupid word is that? I said, between sobs and laughter. - It is a word that means that something you cannot understand, such as the supernatural, affects you in your real life.

- So my life is full of this shit. If I tell you, you won't even believe it. I want to forget all this shit. Seriously. That's why I'm here. That's why I keep drunk in every bar, every corner of this motherfucker city. Do you wake up thinking and shoot yourself in the head, Borges? Put strychnine in beer, who knows? An uncle of mine died like this. Just like that. The woman left him and he died sitting on the toilet like that. With foam coming out of the open mouth. Horrible, right? I think about it a lot lately. Sometimes dying seems better. But it seems, Borges, until I died I already died. If you understand me.

- What a depression, man. A lot of shit has happened in my life too. So, let's change the subject. If we don't end up crying on each other's laps. You don't want that, do you? - I wanted to zero out if I could. You know? Like Alex from Clockwork Orange? - I was waiting for him to answer me. - Oh? Is this for me? Sure, fuck! Clockwork Orange. Do you think I don't know you? Which is. I'm not even that old. Besides, this film is more of my time than yours, right? What if you had a treatment for those things that you say you experience? Like in the movie? The Ludovico method? Wouldn't you feel better? - Do you have that? Does it exist? - I do not know. But I can talk to a friend of mine, a psychiatrist. Who knows, she may not be able to help you?

I was thinking about that moment for a long time. I looked at the bottom of the empty glass and the detective. I reflected on myself. I knew that I needed help. Maybe instead of running away and hiding, if I saw this situation in a more mature way. As if it were a disease. Because there was no doubt that I was crazy. And I couldn't hide it from anyone anymore. Neither my mother nor the students, teachers or the university director. Waxinikdrat was the word. I searched my mind. I didn't want one of those in my life. I didn't have to. I was already hurting myself alone. - I think it can be then. If that will help.

- These things you see, Reinaldo. Do they make you commit crimes? Even as drunk as I was, I realized the trap he set for me. And I would not fall. Even because Agenor I killed with conviction. No influence from the booklet. Without Waxinikdrat.

- I know what you're doing. Ah, I know. Can't even follow someone without being noticed and do you think you'll be able to get me out of my mouth? I am a professor of philosophy. I know speech, rhetoric. All the intricacies and methods. I trap these traps and don't get caught by them. Detective.

- Of course not, friend. I wouldn't think that of you. That would be easily manipulated. How could I? I don't think we're even in a position to have that conversation right now. Let's make a toast. What about? Waxinikdrat!

- Waxinikdrat!