He came home late at night and extremely exhausted.

His wife was already used to

it. His two children were already asleep. They talked for a while as always, while they
ate dinner. It was always the same topic of conversation, which revolved around his
work only. His vanity knew no limits, as did his egocentrism. No other argument was
debated between them, other than that. The subject of their conversations revolved
around insane, deranged, crazy; all those pejorative names that were said to people with
some mental illness. She listened attentively and on many occasions, she was left with
something new about herself and her children that she wanted to communicate to him.
For example, on that specific day, they celebrated another year of having been married.
Apparently he had forgotten. He got up more often than usual. Without even eating
breakfast, he left the house in a hurry. He didn't even say goodbye. From so much
eagerness that he had, he even put on the shoes of two different models, of different
colors. With good reason, it has always been said that psychiatrists eventually end up
deranged like their patients. Which has never been entirely false?
The day when that happened was decisive for his investigation. When he had
arrived, his patients were already waiting for him in that terrifying room that nobody
wanted to even approach. They were impatient for it to arrive. The week before had
turned severe, in terms of the disturbing symptoms they had both felt. They experienced
it in a surprising way, since they presented themselves alternately. When they ceased in
it, she was dominated by that enormous force that completely changed her
physiognomy. He would throw it against the floor, against the furniture, he would lift it
up into the air and before the astonished gaze of his unfortunate partner; It was
appreciated in his eyes, an intense red color as if completely covered in blood. I already
had the psychiatrist, a decisive plan. Standing up, he read a paper that he took out of his
pocket and spoke aloud to what was supposed to be the entity that disturbed these
people. He scolded him sharply, gave some instructions, demanded a procedure.
Agustina's body became more and more powerful, she looked fiercely at her
interlocutor, while listening to his decisive words.
Amazingly, the woman crashed to the ground. A huge gust of wind was felt
immediately, and everything in that place was messed up everywhere. Several
decorative lamps, the glass in the windows and the two paintings that were on the wall
were broken. The shelves where various books were neatly kept, were left a real
disaster. The psychiatrist's eyes gleamed deeply. He felt that he had achieved his goal.
He dislodged a horde of demons that had long plagued these two people, causing them
to commit the well-known atrocities.
When a supposed calm returned, Elvis and Agustina, surprised, hugged each
other, looking perplexed at the psychiatrist; without fully understanding what happened.
He explained them in detail. Then he hurried to his office, where, after canceling his
commitments with several scheduled patients, he spent the rest of the day cloistered
without communicating with anyone. During all that time of confinement, he read all
his notes with special attention, while he made others. On his computer he was
classifying all the findings, according to their chronological order. The coincidences
determined that the same entity attacked both beings. Definitely, the psychiatrist had
discovered that they were not sick, but possessed by a demonic force, like those narrated
in the Bible. He finished making some final notes, and at dawn he went home. As he
walked towards the parking lot, he felt a chill that made him feel strange. He thought it
was an unusual draft, so he brushed it off.
He did nothing but go to the bathroom and do what he had to do before going to
bed to try to get some sleep. It had been a difficult day, extremely complicated but
extremely positive, given the discoveries that he would finally make known to the
public. He was sure that he was going to break the paradigms that until then had been
woven around the objective of his experiment. That was what he had been doing. He
was calling it whatever, but in reality he was subjecting both Elvis and Agustina to an
experiment without having told them what he really intended. Beyond improving, if that
term could be given, a pathology with a therapy never used before, the psychiatrist
wanted success; Renown, go against the current.
He wanted to break with the schemes that the same science that he professed had
established. The daring psychiatrist wanted to challenge the forces that have always
been on the opposite side of good, behind God and that will be forever. In the gloomy,
detestable and hated solitude of a room; the psychiatrist implored forgiveness from the
creator, who until now he felt existed. He asked for a pardon that he perhaps did not
deserve. In a situation that he never imagined would happen to him and that he would
never be able to understand. He thought of them, he thought of his family, and he
thought of himself. He felt hatred towards himself, towards everything he had set out to
do. He was still not entirely sure what had happened. At home, when leaving the
bathroom, the psychiatrist felt again the hair-raising breeze that had shivered him when
leaving the office. Filled with utter astonishment, he watched as his briefcase went up in
flames. There rested all his notes. Suddenly everything was covered in a cloak of
darkness. Everything around him went dark, he couldn't explain why.
After several hours in which the firefighters were able to put out the great fire, the
magnitude of the tragedy could be verified; three completely charred corpses. The
investigations determined that they had been killed with a huge dagger, before the
flames devastated everything. It was easy to determine that since, in addition to the
findings in the respective legal autopsies, the object used as a means of perpetration;
was next to one of the bodies. The psychiatrist's whereabouts were unknown.
Eyewitnesses to the tragedy declared to the police that they had seen him leave in a fast
race in an unknown direction. He ran in an unusual way for a person his age. As he did
so, a huge laugh could be heard that resounded in the long silence of that disastrous
dawn.
The police forces found the whereabouts of the psychiatrist in the afternoon. He
remained in a wooded area, presenting injuries typical of someone who goes into a
bushy forest without proper clothing. Sensing the presence of the agents, the
psychiatrist rose above the ground in a surprising way. The acting officials, extremely
fearful, were going to shoot, but whoever was acting as chief prevented them. There
was no reason for it, more than an irrepressible fear. He wanted to break with the
schemes that the same science that he professed had established. The daring psychiatrist
wanted to challenge the forces that have always been on the opposite side of good,
behind God and that will be forever.
 In the gloomy, detestable and hated solitude of a room; the psychiatrist implored
forgiveness from the creator, who until now he felt existed. He asked for a pardon that
he perhaps did not deserve. In a situation that he never imagined would happen to him
and that he would never be able to understand. He thought of them, he thought of his
family, and he thought of himself. He felt hatred towards himself, towards everything
he had set out to do. He was still not entirely sure what had happened. At home, when
leaving the bathroom, the psychiatrist felt again the hair-raising breeze that had shivered
him when leaving the office. Filled with utter astonishment, he watched as his briefcase
went up in flames. There rested all his notes. Suddenly everything was covered in a
cloak of darkness. Everything around him went dark, he couldn't explain why.
After several hours in which the firefighters were able to put out the great fire, the
magnitude of the tragedy could be verified; three completely charred corpses. The
investigations determined that they had been killed with a huge dagger, before the
flames devastated everything. It was easy to determine that since, in addition to the
findings in the respective legal autopsies, the object used as a means of perpetration;
was next to one of the bodies. The psychiatrist's whereabouts were unknown.
Eyewitnesses to the tragedy declared to the police that they had seen him leave in a fast
race in an unknown direction. He ran in an unusual way for a person his age. As he did
so, a huge laugh could be heard that resounded in the long silence of that disastrous
dawn.
The police forces found the whereabouts of the psychiatrist in the afternoon. He
remained in a wooded area, presenting injuries typical of someone who goes into a
bushy forest without proper clothing. Sensing the presence of the agents, the
psychiatrist rose above the ground in a surprising way. The acting officials, extremely
fearful, were going to shoot, but whoever was acting as chief prevented them. There

was no reason for it, more than an irrepressible fear. This time I see myself at the
entrance of a sumptuous mansion, I am very elegant, I am wearing a dark blue dress; it
has a neckline embroidered with silver sequins and is long, reaching a little above my
ankles. My hair is tied up with two large pearl-lined hairpins and I'm wearing high black
heels. I don't know what they are celebrating, but the logistics of the event are well
organized. An employee asked my name, looked it up on a long list, then waved me
inside. I made a tour of the entire mansion looking for someone I knew and found no
one.
I choose to stay in the most spacious room, it is decorated with beautiful garlands of
lights that are made up of sequences of various colors, some dim and others brighter,
throughout the entire area. Something else that catches my attention are the exotic
bouquets of flowers that are exquisitely organized by size and color, contrasting with
the entire room. The music is excellent and diverse. There are many people, most of
them are forming groups that share very happy. The tables are stocked with the most
varied kinds of liquors and sublime delicacies. I go to the back and there are the
kitchens. An employee gives me a brochure where there are different kinds of menu, I
chose everything I like. I sat at a table and then they offered me three different dishes,
each one of my favorite delicacies, also a vase with pineapple nectar, a giant ice cream
and also a bottle of champagne.
I know I don't have the capacity to eat that much, but I'll try everything as far as I
can. The food is delicious, I tasted portions of each dish and when it was enough, I put
them aside. I ate half dessert and followed with ice cream, I enjoyed its taste and also its
creamy texture. I have left the champagne to uncork it later... I am comforted and
satisfied, looking at the toasts and the party around me. Everything is perfect, I am part
of the kingdom of the chosen ones… A gust of cold wind woke me up. "Oh, it was a
dream. Damn hungry!” Now the chagrin of brief happiness and dead bliss came to me.
But the hateful nightmares continued to take their toll on my troubled existence. The
voice came back more commanding. He practically yelled at me the narration of a dark
story: “Pancho was a very nice boy, born to a humble country family, made up of his
parents and eight siblings. Since he was a child he was always very weak and sickly, to
such an extent that before he was ten years old he had already gotten typhus, mumps,
measles and all that crap, whether eruptive or not, that they gave to boys before the
blessed girls arrived immunizations. He was thus, a shy boy, unattractive and, above all,
skeletal; given that he rarely exercised with any game, but spent almost the entire day
with a book on his back, reading non-stop as long as there was light, and if there wasn't,
he helped himself with a candle that he lit wherever it didn't bother others nobody.
Fortunately, his father broke his back from sunrise to sunset as a farmer, so that
his family would not go through hardships and the boys would attend school. In that
humble home there was never a lack of savings, in this way, when noticing him so
prudish, "Lencha", his mother; he could buy the books that he liked so much. All the
boys went to school, but they did not pass primary education, since what was in the
town was not enough for more. After that, they would go to the fields to work to help
their father in such a demanding job, which left too much sacrifice and few
satisfactions. In any case, they never lacked food and books for Pancho.
From an early age, Pancho's mother noticed that her little boy had something
special. At that time he did not know if it was two virtues or two defects, that would
determine him a few years later, the truth was that there were two particularities in his
boy that made him different from his brothers and in general; to all who lived in those
places. The peculiarity that surprised his mother the most when he was still very young
was the fact that he controlled the weather at will. At first, she thought it was just a
fancy child's game, just as it had always been, but upon looking at it carefully, she

realized that the matter was not as she thought. The truth discovered it one morning that
had just been released. The boy didn't want to go to school that day, she didn't know
why, so she didn't think twice.
Without realizing that his mother was watching him, Pancho looked at the sky
carefully, like someone expecting a miracle, and with a snap of his thumb and middle
finger, he gave an order to the weather, because he wanted it to start raining.
Immediately a rain fell that was very light at first, but then it grew until it became a
small storm that lasted two hours or more, and that forced everyone to take shelter in
their houses. Evidently neither he nor anyone else went to school or anywhere else that
day, because of how flooded the roads had been. The mother looked at him
incredulously, but at first she thought it was a mere coincidence and it didn't happen
from there; although it was strange that, without having the slightest sign of bad
weather, a tremendous downpour had fallen. Even so, he downplayed the fact.
The other thing that little boy could do was read the minds of animals and
communicate with them. He used a kind of telepathy to communicate with them. He
discovered it very early one morning, when getting off his hammock, he accidentally
stepped on the tail of Zapirón, the cat. This one launched such an intense meow that it
ended up waking him up. He immediately felt very sorry for the little animal, which had
already sped away like a fireball and was looking at him scared from afar. Pancho also
looked at him and with a gesture ordered him to come closer. The poor cat, scared as he
was, couldn't make up his mind. He only shook his head as if expressing a doubt as to
whether to go towards him or not. Pancho, with the telepathic power that he was just
discovering, apologized to her and promised her an exquisite cup of milk. The little
animal, which had not yet completed its full development, nodded with another
movement of its head and at that moment ran towards its since then, inseparable friend
and they frolicked intensely for a long time in the hammock.
Pancho didn't think much of what he could do. He thought that like him, anyone who
wanted to could do it. And so, when he was going to go out anywhere and he noticed
the burning sun, he looked at the sky and snapping his fingers, he asked a cloud to hide
him momentarily so that its rays would not bother him. Sometimes, when he felt very
cold at night, he would lean out of the window and, making his usual sound with his
fingers, suddenly a faint warmth would embrace everything. That way he slept
peacefully, feeling that it was easy to ask nature for a favor. When, on the contrary, it
was too hot, with a similar request, he stopped doing it, and soon a pleasant icy breeze
embraced everything around him.

One day, like so many other times, Pancho woke up with a high fever. He felt a
general malaise that made him feel as if he had received a severe beating, since all his
muscles and joints ached. He complained like a convict. Lencha, already accustomed to
these sorrows of the boy, gave him a syrup to drink that was terrible on the palate. He
promised to prepare an exquisite chicken broth to alleviate his discomfort. When he
heard this, Pancho immediately got up and saw that his mother was going straight to the
chicken coop. It hadn't been long, when there he came with a chicken to his credit. The
little animal looked at Pancho terrified. He in turn looked at him with a hint of sadness.
The chicken begged for its life with that pitiful look. Pancho implored his mother not to
kill the bird, because she wanted, to improve her body, a vegetable broth that she had
wanted to eat for days. The confused woman released the chicken and it, while running
fast, looked gratefully at its benefactor. After he ate that exquisite soup, Pancho felt
himself revive, but the chicken felt it more. Soon a praiseworthy friendship began
between Pancho and the animals.