Part 19: The leader of passion.

When I speak of the thousand demons I speak only of the red tongues of flame that I no longer have under my control.

However, I must believe that the universe is in favor of the animals inside Luz's head and not in favor of your kind. I mean, if it wasn't for that throbbing passion between Luz and Alexis the thousand demons would not have, with the same erratic movements of an epileptic seizure, guided her body in time straight to the hole Alexis had made with an axe through which she hit that former history teacher, who was about to cut down a huge tree to take it to the center of the city to sell it.

What he didn't know was that some invisible demons had come out of Luz's body, after shaking her soul.

These demons became a force for Alexis. They climbed up his sideburns until they reached the cells in the rings of his neck. These cells also want to leave for the impossible dream.

Am I to assume that Alexis does not have as much faith in this kind of dreams, unlike Luz?

The demons reinforced his mother's lessons in sword fighting and his father's lessons in the use of the pistol. Her mother taught her from the age of 4 and her father from the age of 5 until she was 8, when the incident occurred before kissing Luz for the first time.

Perhaps out of habit, but without his father noticing, he would grab the gun and go to a certain forest to practice shooting. He also practiced sword fighting, both guided by videos and books.

So, it didn't take him long to take down the former history teacher. Plus demons were involved.

When Alexis made the hole at axe point, she waited until Luz arrived and he grabbed her trembling hands. It is very likely that without the help of the demons his arms would not have resisted the convulsion of Luz's body, especially when he pulled her up (on the ice).

In that instant when he pulled her up, the demons framed Alexis' arms and the cells of his neck jumped into the uncertain future of the red tongues of fire.

At the same time, the part of the memory where Alexis was painting, unlike her, with her fingers the word CHRISTMAS, settled in Luz's mind.

Luz had painted the word HAPPY with white tempera. No doubt her word would last longer than his. Besides, hers was visible and his was not.

I don't know if I have already said it, but everything that is invisible, in one way or another, is linked to the wind.

Of course, if you look closely at the word CHRISTMAS you can read it as it is. Made from the sweat of Alexis' fingers, brought on by the nerves of a strange situation or her premonition. His may not be the same as hers.

Alexis pulled away from his lips when she felt someone reach into one of the large pockets of his coat.

Immediately, Alexis turns around and her hands meet those of her father. He smiles a smile that could be somewhere between Machiavellian and amused.

"Come on, stop being childish, grown-up games are played behind closed doors..."

Alexis couldn't stand it, he tried to take the gun away from his father. He wanted to show him that he was no longer a child, that he was no longer vulnerable to anyone, not even his own father.

A few seconds later, the father felt a tremendous stab of pain that made him recoil. In that instant, Alexis lowered his guard and dropped the gun to hold his father; but the latter, repressing that pain, picked up the gun from the ground and shot the bastard who had drawn blood due to a scratch that caused a deep cut.

"Damn cat!"

Rather than the last feeble mewls of a dying cat, the terrified scream of a little girl was heard.

Luz was going to go to her cat's aid, but her mother held her tightly and she had no choice but to settle for letting out whimpers into the air. Whimpers that sounded like meows.

Meows that were now heard both in Luz's unconscious and in Alexis's consciousness. Those mewls spread the power of the red tongues of fire. These flames pass from Alexis' arms to Luz's palms.

The red shawl is prolonged there is a drowning connection, but.... which of the two will fall first?

There, the red flames are deposited on all the lines of her left palm, the one that reflects her past. As the flames burn, a sudden tremor occurs inside her head; instead, her body is now static and cold on the ice rink.

That tremor makes me close my eyes only for a few moments, when I open them I see that the clouds that transport the animals; now they have taken the shape of those animals they transport.

The clouds have the form of an elephant, a fox, a pig, a seal, etc.

The strangest thing is that it no longer smells like sulfur, it smells like bread, candy and even smells like a delicious baked chicken.

These aromas come from the clouds. However, I cannot concentrate my sense of smell on delighting in these fanciful delights. While talking and talking allows me to breathe against cold and water. The truth is that nothing can save me from an inner trembling. The worst thing is that I can't get my nose out of Luz's neck. Maybe it's because I'm holding back the urge to meow from the pain of seeing a fallen compatriot.

Maybe my narration shows me indifferent and thinks I would like to possess that ability that humans have. That ability to justify pain or to be indifferent to another person "outside" their families.

But you know, maybe, from being in Luz's head so much, I manage to acquire some of her ability. I will just narrate and narrate, and maybe my protective instinct will also die with each fallen compatriot... I can feel the coldness of indifference.

The trembling comes from further down Luz's throat, but no doubt it is connected to this one as well. The sobbing that sounds like a string of mewls from a certain little girl, comes from that area I have never told you about, until now.

It resonates like a cat's song, this time I am the one who senses, I sense that the lyrics of this song will be too painful for me. Undoubtedly, a total contrast to the melody that seems to celebrate the fallacious fantasies inside Luz's head.

My sense of smell may bind me to Luz's passion, but my sense of hearing makes me almost as free as the wind.

Slowly, slowly I let the meows feed off my vitality. They resonate louder and I enter their depths.

The further I descend, the more the sounds oscillate between thunderous and desolate. At times, I seem to hear sarcastic laughter and overwhelming guffaws. The chatter of a crowd, a crowd of sounds as consistent as they are disconnected from each other. Altogether it all sounds like a bad musical arrangement.

It's as if each sound comes from a different world and has different purposes for being there.

I may not have been a reporter or even a good storyteller up to this point (which leaves a lot to be desired, I know), but if I learned anything in my scouting days, before I ended up as Luz's mental babysitter, it's that you have to do everything and take whatever role you have to take in order to survive in this and any other world.

It is very rare that sounds or smells let you intrude into their world, why do you think they let me?

The law of the strongest. No, that law is not about who has the muscles of Tarzan or Gaston.

They want my vitality: critical, but always taking what I can with sarcastic humor.

Just as Luz's mind is addicted to fantasy, these sounds that she had in store are addicted to sarcasm and irony, I think both are the kind of fantasy of these sounds.

Is there anything in Luz's body that is not addicted to something else?

Anyway, the time has come to take on the role of reporter and interview some sounds to understand how I can help the butterfly that is about to lose the vitality of its wings. And the fact is that, to make the clouds follow it, it must emit a lot of its essence to the environment. You know that everything in excess is bad, but if the revolution leaves it no other option. I can't blame her because I would have a straw tail, literally.

Yes, I know, I am always so humble about my willingness to make sacrifices. However, perhaps this is the characteristic that has given me a kind of clue to understand the code of these sounds.

I say this because now that I am being especially sarcastic with myself; the sounds no longer just make me listen to them, at this very moment they surround me and I feel their vibration closer. This is at an unsuspected level of excitement. I hear the sound of my muscles stretching and flexing. I never thought they would be so stiff.

Now that I am aware of the tightness of my muscles, the sounds I described to you earlier are so sublimely liberating. It is as if they composed the melody of the hymn of my revolution within me. If I use Luz's perspective, I would describe it as: A harmony coming from a heartbeat that has always been frozen, but that until this moment she would not have wanted to give the required importance to that static and cold state of her own heartbeats.

She was not afraid of not feeling, but now that she has realized that not feeling makes her feel more that essence that is coming out of these sounds.

This essence is given off in the form of that vibration of which I spoke to you a few moments ago. The one that is enveloping me in its musical gaze.

I say look because that's what I'm looking for, I need to be able to see. I think this essence carries a strong aspect of Luz's character. From this essence emanates an inclement coldness, which merges with the already past feeling of pleasurable vibration. Well, the vibration continues but it is no longer pleasurable. Now Light's point of view and mine have merged, resulting in a "frozen vibration".

However, I should feel neither cold nor hot because it is my sense of hearing that is narrating this downward journey. The sounds are unscathed by any evil, as long as they are only from the wind and not from something of human origin. There is only sound here, I should feel nothing.

For Luz the only immortal thing in this and other lives is music.

That is to say that I can also die within it, or who knows if there are things much worse than death.

I have no choice but to give in to the essence and completely surrender my sense of hearing. Having reached these depths of the soul of Light, I can no longer surrender anything half-heartedly. This essence wants it all or nothing.

Yes, when I return to my body I will no longer be able to hear my little ratites, how will I be able to detect their current whereabouts?

Either way it is done, I feel in the ascent with the essence, those sounds that I have already described to you are repeated and I hear a false freedom proclaimed.

The frozen vibration is the music of Light. Each note that does not become harmony echoes and languishes my sense of hearing. It sounds as if they are breaking the ice, but not to get rid of the ice. It is about breaking the ice to hear the creation of the cracks on the ice.

Feeling that you can escape, get out, without having to give up anything.

I fear that a certain secret sound of the 15-year-old Light is not appealing enough to my body.

"Isn't it enough without hearing anymore?

Why!

Answer me Lucifer!"

The cold water turns to ice with every erratic body movement and Light's heartbeat. Sorry. I can feel it. All of her is a feeling of paranoia.

The 15-year-old Luz, the one who ran on her bike into the woods to get away from Margot and her group. She was climbing one of the trees and, in the panic, she slipped and, if it wasn't for a hand in the middle of the darkness of the forest, she would have fallen.

But is it only the body that can fall in the face of gravity?

We are left with the fact that a being in the darkness lifted her up and their profiles were brushing against each other. In that instant, the essence of Light was the same as the one that has me trapped at this very moment. An essence made of paranoia.

But how to run without limiting oneself to just walking?

How to hear the sound of the cracks louder without breaking the ice rink?

This dark being must possess some of this same paranoia, it must belong to his fantasies because otherwise I could not be inside him.

Just as when I descended, here there is only darkness and a certain warmth coming from his chest. In this very one lies a hairy heart (or a heart-shaped furry one) that instead of pumping blood, pumps fine strands of unicorn hair to the whole body of this being.

I know they are unicorn hair because only this type of hair can make, for example, branches do and undo as the wearer of this type of hair that I already thought was extinct.

This being has made the branches of many trees in the forest hold Luz after tearing all her schoolgirl clothes (in case you had forgotten this little fact).

This being does not emit a heartbeat, there is no sound at all in its hairy heart. Not until now.

The dark being orders the branches to move Luz's whole body. From the first to the last sensitive extremity of her body. Pressing and contracting the susceptibility in her silhouette.

Remember that her skin is burning and something tells me that this hairy being inside has a lot to do with it.

Her mind knew her skin would be burned to ashes. That's why he came up with this dark fantasy. She knew that every fantasy is also reincarnated.

I feel how every shudder of Luz's silhouette is a beat of this furry heart that I feel as my own.

The hairs bristle and fall, fall and bristle. I guess that's the systole and diastole of this heart. Rather, they are the antecedents to this pair of heart movements. And it is that, now the branches remove the muscles of Luz at a more pressing and suffocating speed.

Naturally, speed is more characteristic of the outside world. Here, inside a teenage girl, every event or element is lived and relived in multiple ways, savored to the last itch. That is why time cannot pass through an adolescent heart.

Time can be as slow as a last kiss.

The dark being touches with his index finger the thin line that separates Luz's jaw in two. On this line it starts a descending path with a golden strand of unicorn hair.

This time Luz shudders without the help of the branches. Even so, the branches stir her and her most prominent movements are those of her shoulders and hips.

But she undoubtedly shudders even more when the being's forefinger leads the golden strand towards the jugular area. There was my nose, now there is not even a shadow of it.

Inside its head I can still hear, but only its most intimate desires and reflections.

Maybe the words for a human being mean that he is part of society; but, for an animal like me, they are only proof that we have become the fantasy of ancient feelings.

Now my bones are carved into words.

"That massage session, so to speak, by those sounds (which at the time made me have a passive sense of hearing) was only to trap me more in Luz's mind.

Before me, in her brain there were only silhouettes of silent beings (except for their heartbeats) and separated from each other, as if they did not belong to the same mind.

I knew that on the outside we all walk apart from each other, but I did not know that inside humans there is a disunity that is desolating..."

My train of thought is interrupted by the claim of forgotten feelings. They want Luz to recognize them again. They need to be certain that they exist for her.

If I am Lucifer's slave until now, I can be a slave to a girl for a few minutes.

Now her dialogues are mine and her point of view is mine, for now there are no more fusions. After all, desire merges to make two into one.

This desire has transformed me into one with her. In a single chain of falsettos that she emits over the neck of the dark being. Falsetes that ruffle all the unicorn hairs of the dark being.

Then, with the force of this paroxysm, that strand of unicorn bathed in paranoid essence drives me through the wind until I become the first of a chain of moans from Luz. And the fact is that letters are the fantasy of sounds and, you know, my bones are already made up almost entirely of letters (if it were all I would no longer have consciousness).

I can bear to be part of these waves of pleasure and ecstasy overflowing in the dark. It all resonates like frozen heartbeats trying to sound accidentally sexy, so to speak.

These frazzled melodies flow through the golden unicorn strand. I guess that strand is a wind fiber for Luz's mind that is now almost like mine.

I say "almost" because if I can still narrate while Luz is in a shuddering circumstance; it means she has come to this mysterious boy to have her oxygen taken away.

As I have already told you, for Luz's mind oxygen is words. And if she is still thinking and at the same time enjoying, it is because she seeks to expose the words to the affections of this mysterious boy. She wants him to end all his reflections and all his illusions to start with the realities at dawn.

He wants to finish with my bones and that is excellent if I want to return to my body.

However, the morning sun is not the same as the sun inside Luz's mind. To tell the truth, her sky has never had a sun, or at least not in the moments I have witnessed through memories.

Either way, this is the first time there is going to be a sunrise inside this girl's mind and I just have to go with my gut. This is what connects all my senses and makes them one me.

Every waved movement, crushes and bursts reflections of any kind. It elevates and awakens passion. It enters and expels fear as a harmony of moans that investigate each other. They try to know each other's interior in record time.

The silhouettes of these moans are every drop of sweat that soaks the bodies of two lovers in the dark that dampen the sheets of invisible letters (sometimes I go too poetic).

These drops are replicated by the golden glow of the unicorn hair strand. They look like golden seeds that have blossomed from a golden stem (the strand).

Without a doubt, this is a yellow plant. Plants expel oxygen and consume the toxic carbon dioxide that we give off. Words are expelled and impossible dreams or memories that I wish had been impossible are consumed.

Both components multiply and reproduce the plant over and over again. The air is filled with the replicas and the wind is flattered by the monument to its person.

Before being sun, the golden strands are placed adjacently. The air that surrounds them looks like a golden field.

In that instant, the greatest ecstasy explodes and I in my current form of moaning wriggle with pleasure on this golden field.

It sounds like a loop made up of exciting melodies. Between subtle and energetic. Roll and cartwheel of moans until I cover myself with all the golden field. Then I find myself inside the whole funky golden field of pleasure.

Yes, my moan is the core of this sun.

The dawn illuminates the two people who have their bodies covered by the sheets, their souls are protected with sweat and their passion lies protected by the shadow of a golden glow that is as invisible as it is immortal.

When the earthly dawn appears, this fantasy dawn is absorbed by the clouds and I return again to the mind of Light.

Again I am squeezed in by that paranoid essence.

The clouds have been placed in such a way around this "paranoid tube" (it is the form that the essence that has "trapped" me has taken) that they have just formed butterfly wings made of clouds with different animal shapes.

I smell the ashes of the butterfly and the smoke. The electricity from that pair of bodies short-circuited its delicate spirit.

The butterfly has become a shadow in the mind of Light, but that means it is outside. Animals have an ally abroad.

What can you tell me human?

Now I know that I am in the center of the wings made clouds.

I, now as a moan, am the body of the butterfly.

I'm going to hunt down your humanity, because true passion demands revolution.