The Poet and the Rose. ®.

 

The Poet and the Rose

Story. Mystery. 

Paranormal. Narrative.

(English version)

Author: Jorge Ofitas.

Once upon a time, there was an old, ruinously abandoned mansion. On the wall of the dilapidated house hung an old lamppost, and on the lamppost, every day for long hours, perched an unusually bright raven. The bird was drawn to something happening inside the house or was trying to spot some unsuspecting little bug to catch. It was very strange; ravens or other birds were never seen in that area.

The mansion possessed a beautiful garden that had once been well-tended. One day, a woman was walking alone through the abandoned neighborhood, taking photographs for her projects. She was fascinated by the sight of the gloomy house, which looked like a gigantic gray silver rattle covered in black thorny branches and dry leaves.

The girl, who dressed in a gothic style, was twenty-five years old and her name was Niké. She began to take pictures of the facade. Things were going well until the raven flew down from the lamppost and scolded the photographer. Then the bird returned to its perch while she picked up her now-broken camera from the ground. The afternoon faded in those remote parts, far from the intense bustle of the city center. Near the house, the immense howls of frightened and hungry wolves could be heard. The mansion bordered the snowy and dangerous meadows of the dark night, which that day was silvered by the full white moon.

Niké understood that without sunlight, she wouldn't be able to leave the place until dawn, as the wolves, which seemed distant, would soon be prowling around there, and her car was two kilometers away. The troublesome raven had disappeared, and Niké slipped into the house through the crack of one of the windows shattered by the force of the sharp thorny branches.

The other entrances and windows were all sealed. She took a flashlight from her bag and saw the kitchen. Should she continue? Because she heard a moan, a complaint, an eternal sigh. Could it be a hallucination due to suggestion? Luckily, it was almost a full moon, and silver and violet rays of light filtered through the loose planks of dead sadness.

Everything was covered in the intertwined branches of the outside trees, fierce and hungry for living space. There was a very dilapidated staircase leading to the upper floor and a door covered in branches at the very end of the hallway that led to the rooms. She could hear rats squealing among the debris. She fixed her gaze. Was what she was seeing real? A faint light came from the end of the hallway, its glow peeking out from under one of the doors rotten with oblivion.

When she managed to unlatch the door, she found herself in a study filled with books and other junk, as well as an old, turned-off computer and several typewriters. The generator started to hum somewhere. She saw a switch at the entrance and flipped it, and the light came on immediately, dim and yellowish but sufficient. She would undoubtedly spend the night there. It seemed very strange to her that there was light, and why did it turn on?

Then she saw him. The image was horrifying and very sad. Insane and strange. She had to get closer and check if he was alive or dead, although if he had died, it couldn't have been long ago. She had also never seen anyone with such a thin and leathery appearance, only in documentaries about World War II or the 

Third World. She pulled over a stool, first opened his eyes, and then took his pulse. He was still alive, but barely. She placed her ear on his chest; whoever he was, he was dying slowly from prolonged starvation.

She took her cell phone out of her backpack to call an ambulance, but signal repeaters don't exist in places like that. There was no reception at all. Nor could she get any, although she thought about going outside, only to remember the wolves when she heard footsteps on the other side of the door, urgent footsteps accompanied by fierce and broken roars. They already knew she was there with the mysterious dying man.

The wolves seemed to have disappeared. The reason was the voice of some hunters who were prowling around to hunt them and had found their trail, although they certainly wouldn't find them. She took a deep breath and approached the small wooden table covered with books and notes. There was a sealed envelope that read: - "For Niké" - Niké? -

There were many women with that name, and she didn't pay it much attention. Nor was she sure whether to open it or not. She pondered the matter very quickly and removed the seal. Inside was a thick, high-quality green paper. She took it out and began to read:

"To Niké. The love of my time"

Beloved Niké:

"If you ever return, you will find my body inert and lifeless. I decided to leave this feverish existence little by little, sip by sip. I waited for you as long as I could. You already know why. I won't elaborate too much, I only ask that you bless my body and then set fire to the house: I don't want to die next to those terrible human beings who kill each other and do not seek true victory. In return, I give you an emerald, which you will find among my belongings. I had a beautiful dream with you in which I fell in love with a beautiful rose, the only one that existed in that field of dreams. Perhaps it is because the same thing happens in the garden of the house; everything is surrounded by darkness and ruin, yet a beautiful rose continues to bloom among the poisonous and sharp thorny branches. Take it with you, my soul will go with it. Goodbye, Niké, kiss life, its beats are pure tuning forks if they are tuned with the wound..."

"Until forever, my eternal muse, I will see you in the next life if we coincide."

 * Yohel Martín.

.

.. She approached Yohel and took his hand. He half-opened his eyes and saw her... - Niké, is that you...? - And after that, he expired, leaving a bright and happy look fixed in her heart, as she tried to revive him without success. Then she observed him for a while, his long beard that reached his navel and his immense gray mane. She gently touched his forehead and closed his eyes, then began to cry silently until she recovered.

She found red sandalwood and benzoin among the poet's belongings, also a beautiful emerald that she thought about keeping, although she later desisted; she was not that Niké. Without delay, she began to clean Yohel's skin with a cloth moistened with alcohol and then rubbed it with benzoin. After washing him, she lit red sandalwood throughout the room until it was perfumed, turned off the light, and lit 7 green candles. Then, she wrapped the poet in a very expensive white cloth, just as he had predicted, and placed the inert body facing east; the sun would be about to rise at that time with its light and warmth for everyone. Then she heard a loud crack and after that two caws. It was a raven carrying something in its beak. Perhaps the same bird from the previous afternoon. Niké was a little scared; she didn't like those black birds when they got agitated, although the truth was that she adored them and found them beautiful. Suddenly, the raven dropped a beautiful red rose and a laurel wreath and then left through the same hole. It was obvious that very strange and unexpected things were happening to them, and therefore interesting, although she had to be cautious at all times. She smiled, quite surprised by the raven's attitude, and after that, she bent down, picked up the laurel, placing it on Yohel's forehead, and the rose on his chest. She intertwined his arms and placed them over the rose. She knelt down and cried... So deeply and profoundly, as she felt it was no small thing...

The strange hermit poet was lucky in his end. Perhaps Niké was not his Niké, but she arrived in time. He knew she would appear before he died. And so it was. The gothic girl followed all the instructions and set fire to the house methodically so she could get out of there before it was engulfed. Little by little, as she drove away towards her car, she saw the mansion become a single giant flame and then disappear, or so she concluded in her anxious state to flee. It was then that she heard the bright raven caw, and as it flew past her, it dropped Yohel's emerald on the road, then flew away towards the dawning horizon. How could it have done that? She picked up the precious stone and then drove away in her car, constantly looking in the rearview mirror until the image of the area disappeared from her sight.

She arrived at her apartment, and her roommate was waiting for her. Also her mother, the police, and a private psychiatrist. All very worried. Her mother hugged her, asking where she had been, and she replied that she had been in the colonial neighborhood taking photos. Niké told the police that she had seen smoke there from a burning house. The officer spoke to headquarters, where they confirmed that everything was the same in the colonial neighborhood, as there were some cameras placed along the streets or hanging from the power lines, and no smoke had been seen or was visible. Niké fainted, and when she woke up, her mother had taken her home to talk to the psychiatrist. Apparently, the residence Niké spoke of did not exist and never had. She smiled, exclaiming that she had the digital photos as proof, but the camera never left Yohel's room, so she remained deeply silent when she remembered and agreed to talk to the psychiatrist.

The next day, the therapist accompanied Niké to the colonial neighborhood. Still almost in ruins, it retained the beauty of other days, the charm of those times when those mostly white mansions were built. Not a few great families had spent their lives there, and now everything seemed dead. Where had they gone? Where would they be now? The powerful jungle trees in the surroundings destroyed the streets with their gigantic roots, and the whole neighborhood increasingly resembled a cursed forest...

Niké directed the doctor where to drive the car to access the same place where she had parked, so she could reorient herself. She had taken a strong sedative medication for the shock caused by the incredible incident. She thought about the loss of her camera; the photos on it were her salvation from being taken for crazy. For the time being, she had to take off her gothic clothes to live at her mother's house, who obtained a temporary permit by medical prescription so that Niké would be under her guardianship. The doctor did not express it, although the story Niké told her about her experience seemed somatically terrifying. Finally, they arrived at the place, but nothing was as it was in Niké's story. There were no streets there, and she didn't remember ever having been in that place either. The doctor insisted on continuing to search, but she "threw in the towel." She decided to get angry with everyone for not believing her, would make a false excuse to the doctors, apologize, and return to her apartment...

Days later, Niké returned to her usual activities...

While enjoying a lemon tea, leaning back and watching the afternoon, something fell from the sky onto her head. It was a beautiful crimson rose, like Yohel's, and then she saw the same raven flying away forever... This produced a mixture of dread and joy in her. The dread was justified. She remembered a famous mathematician who also saw things that didn't exist. Or did they exist, and were others the ones who couldn't see them? Who knows, if she kept telling and insisting on everything to those around her, they would diagnose her with schizophrenia... Joy because the rose and the raven proved that her story was true. Wait a moment, she said to herself. What could this mean...? At that precise moment, her friend woke her from her reverie and asked her where she had gotten that rose... The rose was visible to others this time! "You have a package that someone left downstairs with an envelope, you need to go down to sign," her friend said. "Okay, I'll be right down," Niké concluded.

Indeed, someone had left a delivery. What could it be? She went up to her room, opened the window, and leaned out. It had no sender. She opened it, and just before taking out what was inside, a small note slipped out that came with the delivery. The note read:

"Look out the window"

She did. Her window overlooked a very busy park in the afternoons, filled with elderly people, children, and women. She pulled back the curtains and looked out... He was there, it was Yohel, the poet, looking a bit younger. He smiled at her, blew her a kiss from afar, placed his hand on his heart, closed his eyes for a few seconds, and waved goodbye, disappearing into the crowd... She was left like a "black marble sphinx"... She didn't know whether to run after him or first find out what the package contained. She went to the package and took out a small book. The cover was designed with one of the photos she herself had taken the day before, and that strange raven perched on the lamppost was also in it! The booklet was titled:

"The Poet and the Rose"

THE END

Story Author: Jorge Ofitas.

Spain. 2015. ®. Europe. 2025. ®.

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