Brunilda

The first time I came to this village and met its inhabitants, I realized that something strange was haunting their minds. That evening, the air was so cold that I could even feel it inside my bones. Everybody began to return to their homes, locking their doors tight for the night, hoping not be surprised defenseless against their most horrifying terrors.

It seemed that these people had no soul, that they had turned away from God, abandoned themselves to superstition.

I tried hard to forget that feeling, but my partner could not. He was younger and not yet mastered his terrors. However, my main concern was to find a place to spend the night. I wasn't worried about monsters nor demons, but the cold: another night sleeping rough and my bones would be rankling all the way to Santiago.

The thin line between these two concepts is very easy to cross. Both are blind beliefs, without fundaments. Everyone can choose between believe or not believe, and that makes faith and superstition being so far apart and yet so close.

I remember talking to the people of this town gave me bad vibes. Their fears passed through me and, sometimes, unless I was able to keep calm, I began to see the same things as them, to be able to pass through where I couldn't before, to wake up at a cave entrance without knowing how I got there.

The best way to forget everything was praying in a holy place, reinforcing my faith and taking myself away from those thoughts. Then, reality shown before my eyes, and I clearly felt that there was no strange places nor otherworldly beings.

But I always feared of completely losing my faith and my sanity, let me be deceived by that collection of pagan beliefs, myths and characters, abandoning forever everything that could link me with my previous life.

I'll not tell you what happened until I could control myself, because I'm still doubting about what was real and what was merely a product of my imagination.