Part nine: There is nothing more painful than passion.

Maybe a part of her knew it and that is why she was talking to my "I" from that past life, so short-lived.

The leaves of the old oak trees, torn from their father's protection, traveled in the wind with a sound, to Luz's ears, so similar to her cat's tail, when she wagged it against the wind. It seemed that this same cat was fed up with her whims and for that reason he was going to give her what she wanted to hear, to listen to a friend; then the wind accelerated the leaves' journey and it was heard almost like a whimper, it was a meow.

It is my meow, I am behind the dark gray tone of the stones, I am the shadow of the rain of her yesterday; all this sounds so unrealistic when I say it out loud, because it is supposed that at the moment when I was looking at the circular shadows on the earth, there was no Light nor Alexis, only Lucifer and the one above.

Aren't the characters in this story human?

Or is the future, so to speak, the god of the three times?

This last question contains the most possible conclusion, because I know that Luz is human, I had a link with her in some past life (not so past); so it is impossible for me to be wrong about her whole nature and I can assure you that she is 100% human.

And you know that, although I couldn't enter Alexis' mind much, the seconds I was there were enough to know that her brains don't have a minute of life of their own, which is characteristic of humans (pragmatists).

It's not that the brains in supernatural beings go around and leave you brainless, they just take a walk at the least thought moment.

How do you think supernatural beings can feel jealousy?

Do you know that being supernatural, implies above all in knowing about nature; that is, the truth?

Therefore, supernatural beings know that jealousy only serves to add dramatic and insipid filler to their lives.

Even with my deductions, the main question still remains unresolved: Was the future created before the past?

The truth is that all these questions, the intrigue that is imprinted on them, would provoke Luz (if she were not with rebellious bones) a tremendous desire to imagine answers with enough verisimilitude to convince herself that her own continuous sadness, as she thinks she will never get rid of it, is only the trace of an invisible fire that rots covering her soul? NO, SHE IS NOT ENOUGH TO COVER HERSELF FROM HER OWN COLD, BUT TO FEEL COLD IS TO FEEL SOMETHING? THE COLD HAD ALWAYS ACCOMPANIED HER: IN GOOD TIMES WITH FEAR AND IN BAD TIMES WITH ILLUSION.

Now that I begin to be more conscious of that short life, I feel that the circular shadows transmit to me, like brushes that take my paws for canvas, the heat that confers a stinking aroma on Luz's soul. However, in my paws it causes an opposite effect: I think I can glimpse more than specks of brown coloring the earth, before I only looked a little and resorted to my creative logic to describe you the sceneries of my old land; now everything looks so clear and tangible... THE WHOLE SOLE OF MY FOOT CAN STEP FIRMLY ON THE EARTH.

It is the illusion I have always been afraid to believe and the disappointment that sharpens my survival instinct. This ideal makes me obsess with that word SURVIVAL, causes me to feel an ecstasy that hurts and makes hot tears flow over my cat-like cheeks.

What are my brains doing?

In any case, now no worry can overshadow my joy from which hot tears have been born that, I have noticed, endow the circular shadows with such a capacity for luminescence that my life is dazzled by the intensity of the colors around me.

Perhaps, now that I am in the mind of a human, Luz's passion has revived my vision; her passion has made the circular shadows become the sparks that have given the necessary brightness to my vision. These shadows unite us, she hears me and I see her.

She needs to see a world beyond (the one I know) and I need them to talk about me (she loves fantastic characters)... PASSION ALSO MAKES CATS CRY.

At that instant, the three-clawed shadows appear in front of the last circular shadow, the one that has ignited a passion in me, the blue magic. Everything blurred, faded and deformed began to come to life in so few seconds... in so few seconds I observed the disaster.

Everything around me was exuding despair, uncontrol and hopelessness: I was in the midst of cats running on land and in the air; all fleeing from the changes of the new world, or maybe from something else that I could not make out because of all I had to think about.

"Isn't that the spy cat I know?"

The spy cat was being pulled, unlike the others, by a strange guttural force. Now I know it is guttural, I think at the time I thought it was some force from the sky (there lie the clouds that gave me so much happiness one day) and guttural is properly human; but I'll tell you later the reason because someone is threatening me with exceeding my recent passion, I can't let this opportunity pass me by.

Give STOP to my past self for a few brief provocations.

"At the years, I thought that jealousy had already left you without a body, how would your girl recognize you? Of course, if she still... I mean, I was supposed to narrate what your flames reflected; but none of that is happening, is it?"

The demon looked taciturn, absorbed in his thoughts; and I thought he would laugh at my gestures of pain and dizziness, too long is the path of clouds illuminated by the fatuous fires; it seems that the excess of fire, due to his jealousy, instead of burning his body or face shattered his tongue.

He doesn't yell at me, he doesn't do anything; his threat only consists of displaying in front of me a set of replicas (it seems with the same extension as my path of fawd fires) of him built out of pure fire, it looks like a reel that shows you the same picture every 30 seconds.

"You seriously think you're intimidating me with your ember face? I thought when you showed up in front of me you were going to talk or explain something about what's going on with your own story, are you not going to do anything about your teenage romance or are you just here to keep giving me filler?"

I can only see the demon's replicas and what catches my attention is the movement of his eyes filled with an incandescent glow.

Have you seen those drawings that, after turning the pages of the notebook, seem to be in motion?

Well, this is something similar only that the demon's body seems paralyzed, only its flames flutter like a flag on fire, and the baton of the action is taken by the eyes.

In the first replica the eyes look thoughtful, then they jump to fill the empty sockets of the second replica and look thoughtful and confused at the same time, when they jump to the third replica the two previous feelings are reflected and inferiority is added (I don't know so many words); so on and on until I finish, or so I think, my path crowned by the shadows of the small fatuous fires on each cloud that forms the path of clouds on my other side.

Well, as the demon doesn't want to present more than his replicas, it is necessary to continue with history that every time I feel like a complete mockery, seriously, the only thing that interests me is to know what I have to do with the whole story.

Am I going to believe that I only belong to the past of the girl Luz?

Lucifer chose me for a reason and as they say: "The past is already trodden"; I doubt that the great lord of the underworld has chosen me just because he is stung by issues that are already dusty, literally.

This reason seems so childish to me, but it is strange that now that I have once again delved into the history of this budding world, I surprisingly find myself with the ability to read the exaggerated and dramatically astute mind of the spy cat.

With the spy cat I don't have as intense a connection as I do with Luz, how can I read his mind?

Precisely that of "being a stingy cat" is linked to a need for revenge that permeates us like a tick and this in turn; just as in your conscious world revenge must be surprising, it is so predictable to the subconscious that it makes you see coming even the funniest and most private thoughts that other subconsciouses like the spy cat keep.

Of course, I too have a certain facility for being the narrator from hell. Before, when I experienced live the memory of all the chaos I experienced when I saw that my whole world was going to change; I thought it was the last breath of magic, so to speak, that I had not yet been able to develop (my world ended when I was very young).

"No, no one is going to get me, not if I make my greatest fear the ultimate ideal of a being who does not know of danger, who does not do such an action for a particular reason, who does not possess a pragmatic mind; a soul who feels the beauty of every being (animate or inanimate) that exists in this conscious microcosm...aware of the present that others prefer to ignore.

Damn it!

I must remember more, remember that poem, those verses..."

It seemed incredible to me to see my action hero have the attitude of any mortal. "And I thought him of a superior and divine nature," I thought and decided to test myself, by trying to help the spy cat himself.

"Maybe he'll name me his disciple."

Yes, the typical naive boy's illusions; I ran with all the agility and speed of an aspirational novice, ready to navigate the challenges of what I call a "bipolar terrain".

First I encountered a golden grass that looked exactly like the others; but suddenly it rose with a helical motion (much like a snake with a two-dimensional body and no head) until it reached my tail, I knew its intentions, it was trying to return to my tail as two-dimensional and golden as the grass itself.

Who knows where it would have led me?

The grass dragged me over the other grasses, I swear I could hear it laughing and teasing me about how easy a prey I would be. For, these golden grasses needed to feed on the beauty, the wondrous, the unique and indivisible that each being holds within their soul (or the vast majority).

I know that now, because the only thing I was thinking about at that moment was not to lose sight of the spy cat and, of course, that the herbs would not rain on me.

The good thing was that the spy cat could not run very fast, to tell the truth, his gait was like that of an astronaut on the moon. It sounded bad, but I felt very comforted. To a certain degree, because when I saw that those chasing him were composed of a single being that was made up of a lower half of a unicorn and the other of a blue, amorphous, wild smoke that stinks at any distance (I told you it was wild, it needs to be taught respect).

DEATH DEATH DEATH!

I screamed inside me, the unicorns had provoked the change, they wanted revenge and not even their own stench (nice try, pretty sky) is going to stop them.

The smoke got lost and blurred the closer I got to the sky. When they reached and brushed against a cloud, the cloud made the smoke puff become part of it.

I don't tell you, JEALOUS, I had not realized that everything is impregnated with that insecurity that generates the painful need to have everything stuck together, CHICLE COMPLEX (maybe I would have been a better doctor than a spy).

But back to my adventurous and conquering youngster thinking (I already had 3D vision), I did what was stipulated in the book titled "It's not A spy, it's THE spy" on page "three hundred and don't talk to the rabbits", article "twenty and you stick your tooth in it", section "chunk and you blow your dick".

Did you really think that only humans made up security codes?

Or that books were a human invention?

By now you should know that there are very few things that are purely human.

Explaining the cat code a bit:

"Three hundred and don't talk to the rabbits", in the time of my cat world there were no trolleys or air transport for correspondence; so there were these golden herbs as a replacement. You see your intelligent species has created metallic beings without voice or vote, maybe that's why some of them make so much noise, to serve them and they serve themselves (they would love to know what they are for). We on the other hand have alive and conscious all our compatriots and our ecosystem, you would have liked to live in my world.

The point is that I will call these golden grasses rabbits, you know, rabbits jump from here to there; but they differ from the rabbits you know with the fact that they are very indiscreet, the damned ones. Precisely, in view of this small detail, a spy has to take his own precautions and this page is the one that tells us the steps to execute the best solution.

The first step is, as there is no more transport than herbs, to give them the information by means of verses with metaphors. That is not what I did because I have nothing to communicate to anyone. I could strictly comply with the rule of not talking to the rabbits. And note here that this page name is not the real one (you and I do not speak the same language), but it seemed to me the simplest way to synthesize the indication of each page. I tried to compare certain objects and beings of your reality that somehow related to the functions of the beings of my reality (there are no objects there).

I know it all sounds very convoluted, but as it should be with people, we care more about the substance than the form... that's the only way to understand this story.

In case you are interested, there were places where the correspondence of the golden herbs was received (they traveled in groups); there were other golden herbs that took the post and so on every few meters (they do not understand the metaphor, but the cat at the end of the chain obviously does).

The final addressee of the correspondence must somehow wrest the correspondence from the golden grasses (they have always been so sticky with everything that reaches them); and here comes to the rescue the article (what interests me).

"Twenty and you sink your teeth into it."

The golden herbs were in the shape of the human number 20, I thought of translating it to you this way, I hope and I made the right choice of words, you see I can't think it over too much.

Anyway, thinking back, when the grass lifted me up in the air, before its light took away my balance and my renewed vision, I did an acrobat turn, so the grass on my tail ends up closing the circle in which I was inside and in which I had less than three seconds to bite the part of my tail that was already part of the grass.

And in less than three seconds the me of now, the narrator from hell, feels that the mouth of my past self (the one fighting the golden grass) is attracted to something I have in the present.

Past, present; does the sense of taste have anything to do with time?

There is another stimulus, I hear the clamor coming from her entrails, the pain causes Luz delirium and sighs that drown from so much desire.

Not only her bones want to leave her, but also her lips and I think it is mine that attract them with the force of a black hole.

Does my palate have a desire of hers?

How did it get there?

A tear flows from each eye and runs down her cheeks like a fine, delicate waterfall. They meet in the furrow that splits her jaw in half. There they join and, from my narrator's point of view, that formation resembles a doctor's stethoscope; I could have chosen other elements for comparison, but I chose the stethoscope because her heart is beating so slowly that it worries me; and the worst thing is that I cannot go faster in my narration to save her.

RESIST RESIST RESIST!

I try to convey strength to her mind, but I doubt that with her current situation she will listen to me. You don't always learn the hard way.

Her eyes are the ones that, as if they were heartbeats, "throb"; it seems as if her eyes want to come out of their sockets.

Maybe this is one of those tragic romances?

But then there would be no way for him to remember his whole love story.

"When he doesn't remember it's because she has forgotten."

And a dead woman doesn't remember, does she?

The meeting point between the two tears travels beyond their pain, the two fused tears are drawn to the palate of my former self. In a second they arrive and adhere to the palate; then their acidity spreads through my former and present consciousness, it seems to burn them and not to make them ashes... he wants one and only one consciousness, or worse... worse for the devil.

Lucifer wants to take away Luz's subconsciousness.

He wants to wipe out her memories once and for all.

And the demon is still not going to show himself?