Sortilegy
The witch took advantage of the bad wind of the dark mornings of the last millennium, and in her rite of hatred, she gathered and macerated the fallen leaves of the cursed trees, preparing with them our destiny.
Dipped in the sour milk of the white fig tree, the leaves provoked the alchemy of particles, floating half-alive near the steaming edge of the cauldron. Soon a phalanx of venomous beads was ready to bring about the inevitable decline of our lives.
The witch could sprinkle the potion into the water reservoirs and we would dawn sick and insane, seeking sharp blades to slice our existence, fulfilling the curse.
But with the sordid wisdom of evil, she saw that our annihilation would take away the meaning of her ancestral hatred, she would be left without enemies and the very reason to exist and do evil.
She then excluded some ingredients from the potion, minimized the lethality of others, and then caused the air, blown by the evil wind, to spread the pestilent smoke of her sorcery over the Earth.
Today there is no more sign of the witch, we are modern, we are almost electronic, we live anxiously and impatiently in the gap between gasoline and smartphone, we scoff if there is talk of witches and their abysmal powers.
But no matter what they say, we were cursed, we tried to sweep away the soot of disappointments and resurrect what was beautiful in the nights when dreams seemed real and our joy of existence was equal to the frenzy of birds after the storm.
The world had the face and the taste of the best Christmas and it was only later, thanks to the witch spell, that a sinister abyss opened up inside us, devouring our hope and innocence.
Time and sorcery have cast a dusty veil over us, making opaque the gleam in our eyes and it is exactly because of this that yesterday, when you were waiting in pain for a love message that never came, you asked yourself where you went wrong.
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