The Big Rocks (Part 2)

- Do you need any help?

- Oh. I hoped you would come. I'm afraid of what they can do to me.

- They will not do you any harm. Why would they?

- I need to get back to the island, but I cannot see the boat around.

- Boat? I don’t know of any boats. Why don’t you go by car or bus? It’s so much easier.

She looked at us with a strange expression, as if she did not know what I was talking about.

'The poor woman must have Alzheimer's. We better try to help her. She looks so old’, I thought.

- Come with us.

I offered my arm to hold and she accepted the help, walking between us, leaning on both our arms. She seemed calmer then. What was she afraid of, anyway?

The men hardly noticed that we were leaving the place, with the strange woman next to us. They were busy with something else.

Once downtown, after crossing the bridge, we dropped her off at the bus station terminal, so she could take the bus to Ribeirão da Ilha, where she said she lived. I paid her ticket, as she did not have any money with her. Before walking on through the gate, however, she turned around and hugged both of us. Then she put her hand in the pocket of her dress and took a small artefact hanging from a fine black cord she had in it. She gave it to her and told her to wear it for protection against all illnesses. That amulet was very powerful, she said.

I said nothing. I just looked at both of them, imagining the things people still believed in the 21st century, but I was glad that she was well and grateful for the small gesture we made. We live in such a strange time. Sometimes I miss that naive belief in witches and other fantastic beings we used to have in the past times.

We stood at the gate of the terminal until we were assured she was safe aboard of the vehicle that was going to take her back home. She kept her eyes on us, as if to be certain we were still there. We waved one last time and left.

***

An old woman, dressed in black, walked the streets of Ribeirão da Ilha, searching for a certain house. She looked rather lost, for the place was very different from that she once knew. In the difficulty of locating herself, she tried to talk to the people who passed her by, but little attention was paid by those who hurried along the streets of the neighbourhood, busy with their own things.  

A young man finally gave her the indication of the street that led down to the beach, where there was an old house, with a very worn out and stained rooftop. The house was painted white, with blue windows and easy to recognize. It was not far, just a few steps ahead of the church and there was a flowered rose bush in front. That description seemed to satisfy her, for her little black eyes widened a little, with a different glow, and a pleased expression lit her wrinkly face.

As soon as she reached the church street, she immediately recognized the house. She walked to gate and called, her voice half-stricken with age and from her thirsty dry throat. Although she had called only once, the door was soon opened and a very pretty girl came out to meet her.

The young woman kindly welcomed the stranger thinking she was a passing by beggar. The old woman smiled at her in a rather awkward way and held out her left hand. The girl returned the greeting without saying anything, but with an open smile, as if she recognized an old friend. The old woman smiled calmly.

- You're one of us. You know why I'm here...

The girl nodded slightly, still smiling, and invited her inside. As the door closed, thunder rumbled not far away and dark clouds covered the late afternoon sky, flashing lightning in the distance.

I woke up with a start.

- What was that?

***

- I've made a research about the witches on the island.

- Ah yes?

- Uh-huh ... It's interesting, but I read that a lot of what was said about them was based on old beliefs that had passed on through the generations and some were not more than stories people tell...

- Like all the folk tales.

- I think a lot of people have been deeply harmed by the wickedness of others.

- As always: evil, ignorance and fear.

- And interest.

- That's right!

- Could our 'friend' have been one of them? She looked rather frightened and afraid of those men.

- I don’t know.

- Why do people do these kind of things? Why would they take pleasure in harming others?

 - You're old enough to know that the human being is extremely complex. Envy, fear and ignorance can cause immense damage. You´ve read about the ‘Dark Ages', haven’t you?

- I read it was one of the worst times in human history. Many witches were burned alive. It was enough for one person to have thoughts contrary to what the Church wanted them to think, to be accused of witchcraft, and to be condemned. I know that many books, with very important information, have also been destroyed by then. Many innocent people were accused, convicted and killed.

- Until recently it was believed that witches were mostly hunted during the Dark Ages, but research and documents proved that it was at the end of that time and the beginning of the Modern Age, already in the Enlightenment, when Protestantism was created. Did you know that many of the things that people asserted about witches' powers, such as flying on brooms and the like, were hallucinations from a rye-growing fungus that would later be used to synthesize LSD? Rye was stored for a long time and fungi grew freely. When they made the bread, they never bothered to check anything. It was a difficult time and they were not going to throw the cereal away at the cost of not having anything to eat.

- Seriously?

- Can you imagine the things that misguided and ignorant minds could do, say and accuse, under the effect of hallucinogens?

- But not all witches were evil. There were those who were also midwives, specialists in herbs, in prayers... Some of our ancestors that landed here, with these "specialties", escaped persecution in Europe.

- I can’t say for sure whether the majority were good or bad, but I know that even today, insecure, envious, evil and ignorant people raise slander against each other and people take those for true facts, without even verifying the origin of the information. Just go to social networks and you have a million and a half examples... and we no longer need bonfires to burn modern witches.

- All you need is a 'click', a 'like', a 'share' or a comment...

- See? This is worse than fire on dry straw. And the fire burns everything in a very short time, because everyone always want to post an opinion about what they do not even know anything about.

- True. It's worse than mass hysteria. I read about the legend of a very beautiful woman who was accused of witchcraft on the island because she bewitched the men and walked alone at night, tied knots to the clothes that were hanging to dry and also cut and tied up the fishermen's nets...

- A beautiful woman "bewitches" men... In fact, it is they who are bewitched, but you know very well how a woman can do a lot of "damage", if she wants to.

She laughed. She knew very well what I was talking about.

- And as jealous women can defame a good girl, out of sheer spite... or men, out of rejection. There is no limit to human wickedness...

***

- It was so kind of her to give me this amulet. Luck is always welcome.

- Be careful with the things you believe in.

- It has nothing to do with what I believe, but with kindness.

- Even so. Be cautious.

- I'll be... Will it bring luck in love, too?

She looked at me with a smile. I just raised my eyebrows in a sign of mistrust and disapproval. She laughed.

- I knew you'd make this face.

She headed toward the beach in quick steps. She was not going to wait for an answer, anyway.

I stared at the balcony as she walked along the beach with her feet in the sea water. She looked like a child. She stopped near the big rocks and stared, as if examining them. Those stories of witches seemed to be the fascination of the moment, and the big rocks, the point of greatest interest.

I laughed. It is always good to have curiosity in less ordinary things and think and draw conclusions about the things you read.

***

We were sitting on the porch, watching the lights reflected in the sea at night, as we used to, when the weather was fine. The coffee mugs lay empty on the coffee table. We were lost in thought without necessarily speaking. Each one occupied with their own thoughts... or almost... with those immense rocks as the framework.

- Do you remember the first thing she said?

- Nope. Do you?

- Of course. She said, "I hoped you would come. I'm afraid of what they can do to me."

- Ah. She was scared, as you know.

- Yes, but I was referring to the "I was hoping you would come." How could she hope we would come? How could she know?

- It was just an expression of what she wanted.

- Was it?

- You don’t want me to think she knew, do you? This story has already gone too far. Do not impress yourself more than necessary.

- What if she really knew?

- How could she know? Did she read a message sent by email or chat? I can’t imagine that woman, so old, with a computer in her hands... nor with her hands on a computer.

I realized that she was not amused by my joke, so I did not continue the conversation. After a few minutes, when she seemed to be thinking far away, she commented again.

- This story still will not let me sleep.

I remembered my dream and questioned her.

- Have you been dreaming? Any awkward dreams?

- Kinda.

- Have you dreamed or not?

She turned and looked at me directly and seriously.

- I have.

I listened attentively to the dream, which was identical to what I had had. Impressive how the stories were so alike, even in the small details. There must be some plausible explanation for that.

We were both impressed by the conversation we had had, we knew the place, we had discussed details... but for which reason the dreams were identical in the smallest detail, I still could not say.

I kept my silence and that was enough to throw a little more firewood to the stake of doubt and imagination. That little smile was a sign of victory, but she thought I did not notice it.

- Don’t you think we should go to the Ribeirão da Ilha and do a little research?

- Subtle... very subtle... but I think we should, yes.

***

- Anybody home?

She laughed at my display of knowledge of the local culture.

- What? Is it not like this?

- Yes, it is. Go ahead.

The old blue door was opened by a very pretty girl. I recognized her the moment she smiled. Apparently we had the same thought, for both of us smiled with satisfaction. The house was the same... and the girl too… just like in our dreams.

We had so many questions to ask, but even before we opened our mouths to say or ask anything, we saw the black-clad figure coming from behind the young girl.

- Come in. We were waiting for you.

***

As Pedras Grandes (Parte 2)

- Precisa de ajuda?

- Oh. Eu tinha esperança que vocês viessem. Tenho medo do que eles me possam fazer.

- Eles não lhe vão fazer nenhum mal. Por que fariam?

- Eu preciso voltar para a ilha, mas já não vejo a embarcação.

- Embarcação? Não sei de nenhuma embarcação. Por que não vai de carro ou de ónibus?

Ela olhou-nos com uma expressão estranha, como se não soubesse do que falávamos.

‘Deve estar com Alzheimer. Melhor tentar ajudar. Ela parece tão velha’, pensei

- Venha connosco.

Demos-lhe o braço e ela aceitou a ajuda, caminhando ao meio, apoiada aos nossos braços. Parecia mais tranquila. Do que ela tinha medo, afinal?

Os homens mal notaram que nós íamos saindo do local, com a estranha mulher junto de nós. Estavam ocupados com outra coisa.

Já no centro da cidade, depois de atravessar a ponte, deixamo-la no terminal urbano, para pegar o ónibus para o Ribeirão da Ilha, onde ela disse que vivia. Antes de passar pelo portão, todavia, voltou-se e deu um abraço afectuoso em cada um de nós. Depois tirou um pequeno artefacto do bolso do vestido, ao qual estava preso um cordão preto. Entregou-o e disse que usasse para protecção contra todos os males. Aquele amuleto era muito poderoso, segundo ela.

Eu não disse nada. Fiquei a olhar e a imaginar as coisas que as pessoas acreditavam, ainda, em pleno século XXI, mas fiquei feliz que ela estivesse bem e agradecida pelo pequeno gesto que fizemos. Vivemos numa época tão estranha. Por vezes sinto saudades daquela ingenuidade da crença em bruxas e outros seres fantásticos.

Ficamos ao portão do terminal até vê-la entrar, hesitante, no colectivo que ia levá-la de volta à casa, não sem antes olhar para trás e certificar-se que estávamos ali, ainda. Acenamos, uma última vez e fomos embora.

***

Uma velha mulher, vestida de negro, caminhava pelas ruas do Ribeirão da Ilha, à procura de uma determinada casa. Ela parecia um tanto perdida, pois o lugar estava muito diferente do que ela conhecia. Na dificuldade de localizar-se, com precisão, tentava falar com as pessoas que por ela passavam, mas pouca atenção tinha, daqueles que caminhavam às pressas, pelas ruas do bairro, localizado no interior da Ilha.

Teve uma indicação, finalmente, de um jovem, para tentar a rua que descia na direcção da praia, onde havia uma casa antiga, com a cobertura de telhas em calha, muito ‘encarunchadas’ pelo tempo. A casa era pintada de branco, com janelas azuis e era fácil de ser reconhecida, por ser a segunda casa depois da igreja e pelo roseiral, sempre florido, na frente. A descrição que o rapaz fez, pareceu satisfazê-la, pois seus olhinhos negros abriram-se um pouco, com um brilho diferente e uma expressão de agrado iluminou-lhe a face enrugada pelo tempo.

Ela olhou na direcção indicada, deu um longo suspiro e partiu rumo ao seu pretenso destino. Quando chegou à rua da igreja, reconheceu logo a casa e chamou do portão, com a voz meio afectada por causa da idade e da garganta seca pela sede. Apesar de haver chamado somente uma vez, a porta logo abriu-se e uma moça muito bonita veio atendê-la.

A jovem acolheu a estranha, com bondade, apesar de pensar que tratava-se de uma mendiga, de passagem por ali. A anciã sorriu para ela, de maneira um pouco desajeitada e estendeu-lhe a mão esquerda. A moça retribuiu o cumprimento, sem dizer nada, mas com um sorriso aberto, como se reconhecesse uma velha amiga. A velha sorriu, tranquila.

- Tu és uma de nós. Tu sabes porque eu estou aqui…

A moça assentiu, balançando a cabeça, muito levemente, ainda a sorrir e convidou-a a entrar. No mesmo instante, ouviu-se um trovão, não muito longe, e nuvens escuras cobriram o céu da tarde.

Acordei em sobressalto.

- O que foi aquilo?

***

- Andei a ler sobre as bruxas da ilha.

- Ah, sim?

- Uh-hum… É interessante, mas descobri que muita coisa que se dizia era baseada em crendices e, algumas eram mesmo invenções das pessoas…

- Como todas as lendas.

- Acho que muita gente foi prejudicada pela maldade de outras.

- Sempre foi. Maldade, ignorância e medo.

- E interesse.

- Isso mesmo!

- Será que a nossa ‘amiga’ teria sido uma delas? Ela parecia bastante assustada e com medo daqueles homens.

- Não sei dizer.

- Por qual razão as pessoas fazem este tipo de coisas? Que prazer há em fazer maldades?

 - Já tens idade para saber que o ser humano é extremamente complexo. Inveja, medo e ignorância podem causar grandes males. Sabes que, em inglês, a Idade Média, era chamada 'The Dark Ages', não sabes?

- Sabia que foi uma das piores épocas da história da humanidade. Muitas bruxas foram queimadas vivas. Bastava uma pessoa ter pensamentos contrários ao que a Igreja queria que pensassem, para serem acusados de bruxaria e serem condenados. Sei que muitos livros, com informações importantíssimas, foram destruídos. Muitos inocentes foram mortos. Até pelas pestes aquelas pobres pessoas foram acusadas e condenadas.

-  Até pouco tempo atrás acreditava-se que as bruxas foram mais caçadas no auge da Idade Média, porém pesquisas e documentos provaram que foi no fim daquela época e no início da Idade Moderna, já no Iluminismo, quando o protestantismo foi criado. Sabias que muitas das coisas que se afirmavam sobre os poderes das bruxas, como voar nas vassouras e coisas do género, eram alucinações provocados por um fungo que crescia no centeio e que, mais tarde seria usado para sintetizar o LSD? O centeio era armazenado por muito tempo e os fungos cresciam livremente. Quando faziam o pão, nunca se preocupavam em verificar nada. Era uma época difícil e eles não iam jogar o cereal fora, a custo de não terem o que comer.

- A sério?

- Podes imaginar as coisas que as mentes deturpadas e ignorantes podiam fazer, dizer, acusar, sob o efeito de alucinogénos?

- Mas nem todas as bruxas eram más. Havia aquelas que eram também parteiras, especialistas em ervas, em rezas… Algumas das nossas ancestrais devem ter vindo para cá, com estas "especialidades", fugidas das perseguições na Europa.

- Não sei dizer, ao certo, se a maioria era boa ou má, mas sei que, ainda hoje, pessoas inseguras, invejosas, maldosas e ignorantes levantam calúnias umas contra as outras e as pessoas tomam aquilo com verdades, sem nem ao menos verificar a origem das acusações. Basta ires às redes sociais e tens um milhão e meio de exemplos… e já não precisamos de fogueiras para queimar as bruxas modernas.

- Basta um ‘click’, um ‘like’, um ‘share’ ou um comentário…

- Estás a ver? Isso é pior que fogo em palha seca. E vira um incêndio em muito pouco tempo, pois todos têm, sempre, uma opinião sobre aquilo que, na verdade, nem conhecem.

- Pois. É pior que histeria em massa. Eu li sobre a lenda de uma mulher muito bonita que foi acusada de bruxaria na ilha, porque enfeitiçava os homens e dava nós nas roupas penduradas a secar e cortava e emaranhava as tarrafas e redes dos pescadores...

- Uma mulher bonita “enfeitiça” os homens… Na verdade, são eles que se enfeitiçam, mas sabes muito bem como uma mulher determinada pode causar muitos “danos”, por assim dizer.

Riu-se. Sabia muito bem do que eu falava.

- E também como mulheres invejosas podem difamar uma boa moça, por puro despeito… ou os homens, por rejeição. Não há limites para a maldade humana…

***

- Foi tão gentil da parte dela me dar este amuleto. Sorte é sempre bom.

- Cuidado com as coisas em que acreditas.

- Não tem a ver com o que eu acredito e, sim, com gentileza.

- Mesmo assim. Cuidado.

- Vou ter… Será que traz sorte no amor, também?

Olhou para mim com um sorriso. Eu só levantei o sobrolho, em sinal de desconfiança e desaprovação. Deu uma gargalhada.

- Eu sabia que ias fazer esta cara.

Saiu, na direcção da praia, a passos apressados. Não ia esperar por uma resposta, de todo jeito.

Fiquei a olhar, da varanda, enquanto caminhava pela praia, com os pés na água do mar. Parecia uma criança. Parou perto das grandes pedras e ficou a olhar, como se as examinasse. Aquelas histórias de bruxas pareciam ser a fascinação do momento e, as grandes rochas, o ponto de maior interesse.

Eu ri. É bom que tenha interesses por coisas menos corriqueiras e consiga pensar e tirar, por si, conclusões sobre o que lê.

***

Estávamos sentados na varanda, a olhar as luzes reflectidas no mar, à noite, como costumávamos fazer, quando o tempo estava bom. As canecas de café jaziam vazias sobre a mesinha. Estávamos perdidos em pensamentos, sem necessariamente falar. Cada qual ocupava-se com seus próprios pensamentos, …ou quase…, tendo as grandes rochas como pano de fundo. 

- Lembras da primeira coisa que ela disse?

- Não. Tu lembras?

- Claro. Ela disse: “Eu tinha esperança que vocês viessem. Tenho medo do que eles me possam fazer.”

- Ah. Ela estava assustada, como sabes.

- Eu me referia ao “eu tinha esperança que vocês viessem”. Como ela podia ter esperança que NÓS viéssemos? Como poderia saber?

- Foi força de expressão.

- Será?

- Não queres que eu pense que ela sabia, queres? Essa história já deu o que tinha que dar. Não te impressiones mais que o necessário.

- E se ela, realmente, sabia?

- Como poderia saber? Mandaste alguma mensagem por e-mail ou chat? Nem imagino aquela mulher, tão velha, com um computador nas mãos… nem com as mãos em um computador.

Percebi que não achou graça da minha piada, por isso, não continuei a conversa. Passados uns minutos, em que parecia estar com os pensamentos muito longe dali, voltou a comentar.

- Esta história ainda não me deixa dormir.

Lembrei do meu sonho e questionei.

- Tens sonhado? Algum sonho incómodo?

- Mais ou menos.

- Tens sonhado ou não?

Voltou-se e olhou-me directa e seriamente.

- Tenho.

Ouvi, com atenção, o sonho, que era idêntico ao que eu havia tido. Impressionante como as histórias eram tão iguais, até mesmo nos pequenos detalhes. Devia haver alguma explicação plausível para aquilo.

Estávamos, ambos, impressionados pela conversa que havíamos tido, conhecíamos o lugar, havíamos discutido detalhes… mas por qual razão os sonhos eram idênticos nos mínimos detalhes, eu ainda não sabia dizer.

Fiquei em silêncio e aquilo foi suficiente para lançar um pouco mais de lenha à fogueira da dúvida e da imaginação. Aquele sorrisinho era um sinal de vitória, mas eu fiz de conta que não o percebi.

- Não achas melhor irmos ao Ribeirão da Ilha, fazer uma pequena pesquisa?

- Subtil… muito subtil… mas acho que devemos, sim.

***

- Ó de casa!

Riu-se de mim, ante a minha demonstração de conhecimento da cultura local.

- O quê? Não é assim?

- É sim.

A porta azul abriu-se e uma moça muito bonita apareceu na soleira da mesma. Reconheci-a no momento que ela sorriu. Pelo jeito, tivemos o mesmo pensamento, pois ambos sorrimos com satisfação. A casa era aquela mesma… e a moça também.

Tínhamos tantas perguntas a fazer, mas mesmo antes que abríssemos a boca para dizer qualquer coisa, vimos o vulto vestido de negro aparecer por detrás da mocinha.

- Entrem. Já esperávamos por vocês.

***

The Big Rocks (Part 1)

- What do you mean, big rocks?

- Itá, in Tupi-Guarani, means rock and gûasu, means big...

- Was it named by the Indians then?

- I'm not sure, but it makes sense. But my favourite thing about the place is the funny local legend.

- What legend?

- About the witches...

Her interest increased.

- Oh, tell me, please. I want to know everything about the legend.

- It is said that the witches of the island wanted to have a big party and they chose that beach because it was the most beautiful in the area. They invited all the fantastic beings...

- Who were those?

- The werewolves, the vampires, the headless mule and even the Curupira, Boitatá and all the other beings of the local folklore...

- Wow!

- But they did not invite the devil deliberately.

- Why?

- Because the devil smelled of sulphur, and because, in his arrogance of superiority, he always made the witches kiss his tail to show submission to him.

- Ugh! Disgusting!

- Yeah.

I laughed and continued. I loved that audience of one person only.

- When the party was at its best and everyone was enjoying themselves, guess who shows up, very angry, and thundering his disapproving resentment...?

- The devil?

- Exactly. He was very enraged indeed, and to punish the witches, for having left his majestic person aside, he cast a curse and turned them into rocks... big ones... that have been stuck there ever since. Those are the ones you still see today…

- Oh!

- That is why the place was named Itaguasu, or big rocks.

- That's not true, is it?

- It's a legend... It's mythology. Of course you believe what you want, but it's a funny and interesting story anyway.

I heard the sound of thunder. Apparently we would have rain that hot night.

With the flash of lightning, her eyes grew wide, half lost, as if she were imagining the story she had just heard in detail. I let her imagination run free.

Another lightning. That one fell closer, for the thunder was louder and the time between lightning and thunder very short. I remembered the science classes at school.

- Let’s go back in. The rain does not take long to fall.

- Yes. Let's go inside.

She hurried in, as if she were afraid. I laughed.

The thunder continued, and in a short time we had a summer storm, one of those powerful ones. I, to say the truth, liked the summer storms, for they cleaned the air and refreshed the earth.

Another lightning was followed by a very loud bang. That one fell very close to us and took the electricity of the whole street off. It had probably hit a utility pole, in the neighbourhood. It was not too early, so I decided I would go to bed, instead of waiting for the electrical energy to come back. Everything would be normal again in the morning after all, so I did not have reason to worry.

I fell asleep almost immediately as soon as I laid my head on the pillow. I did not think I was so tired.

I had a strange dream, about the big rocks on the beach. In my dream, one of the rocks had been struck by a powerful lightning and had opened in two halves. The rock was hollow and shaped like a person had been dug into it. I found that very peculiar. I was still examining the inside of the boulder when I heard someone behind me saying,

- I waited so long for this moment.

I turned around and saw a very thin woman, dressed in black, with her misaligned white hair half hidden by a black headscarf. I thought of one of those figures I had seen, as a child, of a mourner. Her skin was so wrinkled it looked like an old parchment.

- What moment?

- It wasn’t fair. It was not fair at all.

She repeated the sentence, not answering me, but squinted her dark eyes, as if to see me better. She lifted her skinny hand and touched my face. Her fingers were frighteningly cold.

- It was not fair at all. No, it was not.

She shook her head and turned away, walking down the beach in the opposite direction to my house. I could still hear her mutter that strange phrase as she walked away, absorbed in her own world and shaking her head in a disconsolate way, her body slightly bent forward.

- Not fair... not fair at all...

***

- I had a strange dream.

- Me too…

- It must have been that talk last night and the storm.

- Probably…

Her eyes seemed to wander away. She must be remembering her dream.

She picked up the mug with newly-brewed coffee and walked over to the porch, watching the beach from the distance. The water was placidly reflecting the blue sky above. She stared for a few minutes in one direction, as if she were watching closely what was happening. I walked over to her side and looked in the same direction.

A group of men, close to the place where the boulders were, seemed to be busy with something at the water's edge. They were standing in a circle, around what I thought was a dead animal, probably dragged by the sea to the beach after the storm last night.

- It must be some animal brought by the tide.

- Yes. But it's not what I'm looking at. Look a little farther ahead at the figure behind the other rock, as if hiding from the men.

- Where?

She pointed her finger at the area behind one of the immense boulders, the one that looked most like a human shape, with a head, formed by a round stone that lay on top of a larger one, which seemed to be the body. One of the so called Itaguasu witches.

- Over there!

Behind the big rock there was a person, half bent and dressed in dark clothes. The impression we had was that she was hiding from those men for some reason. What impressed me most was the resemblance to the character I had dreamed of the night before. But my surprise was still to become greater, from the moment I heard:

- She looks like the old woman I dreamed of last night...

- What?

How could it be possible that the two of us had dreamed of the same character in the same night?

- Seriously? I also dreamed of a woman like that...

- This is all very strange! Or, it's a big coincidence. Let's go down there!

- OK. Let's go!

***

- Something is not right.

- What?

- I don’t know. I feel such a painful sorrow...

- You still got the amulet?

- Yes, why?

- Throw it away. Throw it into the sea.

- But she said…

- It does not matter what she said. Throw it away. That's what's influencing you. It is the power of suggestion.

- We helped her and she gave it to me as a gift. I cannot do this.

- Then I will. It was a poisoned gift, that’s what it was. She filled your head with her bullshit.

I plucked the amulet from her hand and, going to the water's edge, I threw it out into the sea. From the strength I used, it would be practically impossible to rescue it if for some reason she wanted to. The waters of the bay were calm and the fact of throwing the object way beyond the zone where the waves formed, would make any search very difficult, if there were any. I went back inside, with an air of satisfaction stamped on my face.

- It wasn’t fair. It was not fair at all.

- What?

She looked at me very strangely, as if her mind was not really there. She shook her head disconsolately, looking through me, her body slightly bent forward.

- Not fair... not fair at all...

***