I told everyone not to go to that store, that this man was wanting me to invade the cemetery.That, if they didn't respect me, at least they did it for the memory of the dead.Everyone knows that they deserve their holy sepulcher and rest.If later the souls scared them, that they did not come to cry.And the dead war is something else, do you know?It's serious thing, hairy thing, quiet thing.

Mine always get stiff.With a rare trenchness, because they are dead from Rio.They are softened and rigid.Water fills their lungs, and how they weigh.Weigh more than consciousness.Sometimes we drag them between several and leave a groove on the ground and a smell footprint.You don't know what the stench is dead.No one knows, until he has smelled.

In the fine of war, we found five newspapers.That's why I tell him, the people got tired of collecting people from others.Do you know that men go down with the belly above and women float?That's weird.Those who do not float are gathered in the networks or the rowing collides with their heads.Fishermen say it's like running into a rock of meat.

At the beginning the solution was the common grave.All together, one on the other, half a name and without a name.And also the parts.Because we also found parts, do not believe.The most impressive thing is to find a hand.Grabs the feeling of helplessness.The body that needs is more present.The missing body is giant.

I thought: these that appear here are the missing.And it was rare to be in the presence of a great absence.As if people's life was sneaking for a drain and went to a place where that face does not make sense.As if the Magdalena erased her memory and goes on a mute body on the other side.A fetus.That's why he was against the common graves.I didn't seem to bury them in an orgy, mixing the parts, smells and stories.It wasn't worthy.If we had a uterus for each one, why share death.That was that I cheered and put the cemetery.I was nicknamed: the grave, the anime, the Santamuerte and so.As I called me, the joke came out easy.They said: there ta ’the anime.And they got out, feeling the big thing.Although, to be fair, everyone helped with what they could.I always bought them the best.The best coffin, the best velvet.We are poor, we die badly, but we are well buried.To save space, we made a tomb honeycomb.All without name.But, yes, separated.I wanted to protect them at least one piece of identity.

I prepared them.Enduring the smell and with a morning, everything is done: hairstyle, makeup and nails.With time I found the taste.Groom the bodies filled me with silence.One would say that war is like action movies.But not.It is still.More than still is monotonous.People kill and kill her and kill her, but the war continues.So one feels that it is not even humans.Not to win.Nor of enemies.War is not about anything.It is a hole that spits dead.

As he had been saying, preparing bodies was a kind of peace.I don't misunderstand me.They don't care about anything anymore, they don't want anything anymore.That is good.He removes heat and anguish.All day people spend asking, forcing the relationship with life.Ask to ask for.They ask for everything.They usually ask for money, but they also ask for favors or attention, revenge and sex.The dead do not ask.That makes them sacred.The funny thing is that behind the deceased the pedigrens arrived, the ladies who adopted dead, made them novenas and prayed.I said inside: you have to be very lost to ask death, but I left them.They kept the cemetery cute, all adorned with cards and cheesy dolls in fomy, saints stamps, battery candles and plastic flowers.To ask for God's mendigas, total, they helped me.Because the job was a lot, I already told him.

And so we were until Elvio arrived, a coast that appeared contrary to the river.Nothing good comes contradicting water.But war also does that, leave people spinning.It is seen that he brought money because he bought the big lot next to the cemetery.From the beginning I did not like.Who has the bad taste of buying land with the deceased?The dead need a space of silence around.Like who says, a quotp of stillness.If you full of noise a cemetery then there are no deaths.Noise is an enemy of memory.

Question that did not greeted.I was doing the dummy to an Jan Jan, who was pretty, when I heard the fright of the cans with which they stopped a hook.Elvio only saw his back and sweat.I heard the vozron who gave orders to the boys.I had three mules loaded with merchandise.Murse me, this wanted to set up a store.Like the men who bring silver, I suspect me, I decided not to approach.At night the brake of a truck woke me up.I saw through the window downloaded drawers and beer drawers.There it was that my torture began.

Elvio put the competition to the bars in the center of the town.All drunk.They had it there in their noses.Every night was a fuss, rancheras and quarrels.In the morning the cemetery woke up everything piss and vomited.I don't lie to him if I tell him that I also found him shit.Great warm buns in front of the niche.Imagine my fury.

I whistled to look for the pedigues, who were associated under the name of Los Angeles ladies.Every afternoon gathered for the ninth of the blessed souls.I thought they were going to be my natural allies against the Elvio bar, but I found only five old gathered who, seeing me arriving, pounced anxious and told me an intricate network of fights and grudges that were because of the dead the dead.They said they had discovered that there were more miraculous bodies than others.The competition of the favors received had unleashed envy, and envy had unleashed the betrayal.Others, the greedy, had begun to pray to the dead of them hidden.In revenge, they had banished them from the Association of Rezanderras.They asked me to mediate in the brawl and make it clear to the treacherous that the dead were personal and non -transferable.I replied that I was not interested in their fights.They looked at me between pasmadas and enraged.

"Then what did you come to, Aíta?""The fattest told me.

I told you about Elvio and the drunks that shitted the cemetery.Do you know what the bitter old people answered?That they were not interested in my fight either and that if it was so macha to confront such Elvio.Fig what oldest most grudgy.

The thing was getting worse because Elvio bought a good sound team and brought albums from the capital.He hung red and blue lanterns and ordered a rectangle to pave.With these improvements, young people began to come from other neighborhoods with their face appealing in love.And there I worried, because you know that town courtship is consumed in any dark corner.Of course no longer, culiar on the dead, no.

I thought I had to take things further and I went to talk to the pastor.It was one of those priests that are now fashionable.Lampiños, progressive, almost teenagers.How I missed the old Naphthalene.That did heard me and would have understood that death is the only respectable thing that we have left.Not like this other, which gave me a chair of civicism mixed with the teachings of Jesus.And then he began to talk about the peace process and I don't know what other things.And so much to talk about hope and love, his own eyes were flooded, moved by his words of God's kingdoms, tropics and paradises.Blessed me, dried the tear and left.

I began to patrol at night in the cemetery.With a lanterns and sounding the steps hard, do not go and outside some in full intercourse.But I'm not for those jogs, and lack of sleep gave me an invoice.Then I reinforced the wiring and began to collection to build a wall, but people were no longer in their generous splendor.The fight with Los Angeles ladies and the renewed alcohol offer had diminished people's predisposition to help me.Nor did it help the lanterns and patrolling.They began to say that my shampoo had run and that I was believing me ghost.Others said that I wanted to spy on people having sex.I was not that I was waiting for a lot from this town, but I did not imagine that they would put themselves on the side of a fat appeared.I thought they respected me, so it was for the twenty -five years that I worked as an assistant at the health center.I mymit, with these hands, I applied injections, I sewed wounds, cleaned their peanuts, drool and blood.But you already know that people are, above all, ungrateful.They ask, but they don't give.

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— Sandra Giffin Tue Dec 01 01:06:02 +0000 2020

To the Police neither speak to him.He was a fixed clientele of Elvio.There was no other but put the complaint directly to the mayor.I got up early that Monday to be in the first hour in the municipal administration.Already for that height I had a test file, which included detailed stories, exact hours of invading sightings, photos of body waste and a list of the faithful clientele of the bar.Also a sketch drawn from the establishment, which now had a track, platforms, stands, tables, chairs, awnings and a long cement bar with seats.

The secretary made me sit in the waiting room all morning.They wanted to get bored.But I am I am.Thus they were waiting for me to enter the afternoon, without even a red.People with the colorful painting of city.A lot of ties movement, a lot of smell of imitation colony.Every hour stopped and asked the secretary if the mayor would take a long time.In the end I think I beat him by tiredness: since a little girl who won by stubborn.

When I finally went to the office, the mayor was saying goodbye to a fat.There I was scared because I thought it was Elvio.The heart jumps.But not era.El Gordo left and I took a seat.

"Doña Aíta, happy eyes that see her," Zalamero greeted me.

"Not so happy," I said, to cut the false courtesy, ".Look, Mr. Mayor.I come for something serious.You know that I am not one of those who are going there that ha, nor Armando gossip, nor generating quarrels.But this matter of the bar next to the cemetery is getting out of hand.Well I can look at this detailed information that I bring you.

He looked at me with that sly face and received the folder.Is that when a woman goes from forty, men don't even strive to hide that they feel superior.As one no longer has turgid tits, they look at her with that taimada compassion with which they treat animals and children.I endured his look very serious, until he began to browse the folio.Believe me when I tell him that he laughed out loud when he saw the photos of the cacas.I pressed my ass and looked very direct, focusing the center of his forehead.

"Very well, Doña Aíta, let me review this with my planning secretary and in a few days we have an answer.

I planted myself.

"No days, Mr. Mayor.We review this today.He called the lawyer and spoke in the back of the office.

After a while, very serious and adult, they informed me that, if I wanted to give legal course to my complaint, I had to sue half a town, because those who invaded the cemetery were the people and not the Elvio.That he was in all his right to have a commercial establishment.They gave me a folded card with a lawyer in Bogotá and they closed my nose.

I was not clear if they were afraid of Elvio because he was involved in strange things.Or if the whole people of the war already had it so fed that they just wanted dance, drunkenness and penetration.I returned home, defeated.To top it off, Elvio inaugurated the stage with live music.Ventiao Vallenato.It cost me to fall asleep because the sound of bass bounced me in my body, I felt like a double tachycardia.Guess who I dreamed that night.He was destroying the cemetery with a deck.But it seemed like dancing.Despite being fat, his body looked ingrained.And every blow had rhythm and grace.I approached him from behind and wanted to stop him.When his shoulder touched, he appeared further, doing the same.They fly pieces of tombs and pieces of dead.They heard as laughs of children in the distance.

I woke up sweaty.I realized that I had never seen the guy's face.For me he was a huge back and a vazarrón.Music kept sounding.The augury was very clear: he had to see this man's face or if he was not going to end the cemetery.So I put on the dress and some flip flops and shot.I walked very fast on the veraquera that brought.The fair phrases of indignation had been repeating in the head.If he is going to kill me, I kill me, but I can't take it.

I arrived stifled.I can swear that all the town was there.Not only danced from normal couples: they also danced man with a man and woman with a woman.To tell the truth, it was even beautiful, so many colored lanterns would make anyone believe that the story of the tropical paradise was true.Of the awning hung flower veraneras.The moon was growing.At each table there were candles and the faces of the people were all shiny of yellow light.As soon as I set the foot at the entrance of the bar, the vallenato stopped and that tremendous bolero of Julio Jaramillo began to sound, the one called "ódiame".The one that says: I can seem for me, I ask you, I can without measure or clemency, I hate I want more than indifference because the grudge hurts less than oblivion.

In those, I saw the unmistakable back of Elvio at the bottom of the bar.As if it senses me, he turned.From afar mirved me.I was half stunned.The face with which he had fantasized so much did not coincide with this that now looked at me.I did Fofo, old and demonic.It turns out that he had a square jaw, a sweet arc on the eyebrows, ruffled white strands and a rala beard, about five days.The belly jumped me.I still squeezed the buttocks and moved on, I am already very old so that they defeat a couple of pretty eyes.This anger did not take it away from me or Pedro Infante in person.

As soon as I arrived at his table, Elvio stopped and smiling sung that part of the bolero that sounded, the one that says: but keep in mind according to the experience that only loves himself.It was funny.He was an occurrence.

"It is not confused, Elvio, I don't hate you but your club."And there he graked him, and ran a chair to sit down.

I wanted to dispatch there with the claims, but Elvio stopped me dry and told me that at least we shared a drink, and a very full brandy of brandy served me.I took it because it served me to give me value.He took advantage of his mouth full to start conversation.

"Tell me, Aíta, what like the dead is silence?"

When I said my name, a deep vozron was coming that, to tell him the truth, he made me tremble under the belly.What a rare question to do, don't you think?I told him yes, I liked that the deceased were beyond good and evil.Diluted but present.How to put your head under the Magdalena at night.Nothing is heard, but something is heard.I said all that without feeling treacherous.The good of the enemies is that they listen, in that they resemble the dead.He looked at me like mascanding something.And out of nowhere he stretched a finger and touched my hand.

"Oh, my Aíta, if you knew that a good party is also like putting your head under a river.The rubb.Elvio had already approached the chair and his knee made his way through my legs."Who told him I'm his," I said little.

"It's a way of saying, I don't offend me.No one is from anyone.And nothing is anything, ”he said as he continued to press the right thing, with his knee, in my underwear.

I will not believe that I was a virgin.That is impossible even in a small town.But that was happening to me, never but never.I tried to put a face of not with me.It served me another brandy and told me why I didn't show him the cemetery.I don't believe me naive, but it seemed really interested.We walked hand in hand, like two children.Or, I better say, like two teenagers.What a shame.We went behind the bar.

Nothing was seen between the pasture.I let myself take as a blind among the tiniebla.The grown grass tickles me on my thighs.In Elvio's hand he found a course, he felt that hand as if it were all.Elvio was a force of gravity.In the dark we arrived at a place that was not the cemetery.He raised me and put me on a hammock, and I stayed there swinging like a girl, with my legs hanging.At that time I grabbed me a horrible shame because I could see, as who sees a novel, two old slippers at night.And I thought: By God, Aíta, what ridicule.I picked.

"We are old," I said, guessing his face in the dark.

"Yes, but we are not dead.If you want, I can make her feel silent.

He put his hand on my back and attracted me to his body.My head sank into something spongy that could be your chest or neck or you know.He was right because when he supported his head, he was interrupted from looking at us from the outside.

I tell you this to understand me, I will not believe that it is for morbid.If I don't tell you, then who?I sat in the hammock again.Elvio put a hand on each knee, his head advanced in the midst of my legs, I looked back back, my trunk rested in the hammock.His tongue, as a wet snake, made his way through my underwear.Everything was made water, so much water, as the mockery of the Magdalena in Bocas de Ash.Water that came out, water that entered.When the flood confused the currents, I thusned everything as asking.What I tell you more, if you already imagine it.Untrue?Nor is it that it is a mystery how love is made, but I confess that I did not know that I could get my tongue there, nor that one could come back from water, or that after moan comes the silence.

I woke up the next day alone in that hammock.As soon as I opened my eyes, a burst of modest.As if I could see all those faces and those noises that I had done that night.I saw myself patiabierta in that hammock with the face of the demon soveing the cockroach.I felt very disgust and eager to go down to the river to bathe.The sun chamuscated my scalp and I could feel the smell of Elvio in my clothes and my hair.

I went down.There was no river.Do not imagine my impression, it was worse than seeing a corpse.There was only one sweep that smelled like shit, millions of fish squeakying, garbage, boats running like dead ballenates, boards, pieces of tiles and a stuck flip.There were decomposition people.I heard a fisherman who was puffed to the hydroelectric and fired in the air with a shotgun.Beyond people cried.It was a very suffocating heat.I touched my belly, and that's when the certainty that Elvio had pregnant me came to me.

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