It was the thirties, the great depression had invaded Europe and the hunt for Jews had begun in Germany, when that shadow came to town, many said he was a man, others called him satan, but the only truth was that he would unleash a real hell in that quiet town where light rarely reached The day they had seen him arrive, it had been the perfect day, that day in which the sun had not decided to rise because it was too sad, the clouds covered the sky avoiding that any ray of light would reach the earth and from time to time a light rain would keep us company, falling from the sky to the ungrateful infertile land

The town in which my mother gave birth to me and had grown up during the first years of my life It was a small place, where not even a needle was lost. The day that that shadow arrived at the place, all those who inhabited the town were so busy with their busy lives that it was impossible to miss such an unusual event, so it was not surprising that the news of the stranger reached every corner of the town more faster than the water from the waterfall to the ground.

The town I grew up in was a small town, almost a ghost town, because it was not peculiar that the sun decided to hide and let the scorching rain fall forcing everyone to stay inside, although not that man, who prowled the town while the water covered his huge black coat, that man who walked with the souls on a day like any other in mid-August while the water fell on his hat His face was gloomy, in his gaze you could see the evil of his soul, or That's what the neighbors said, because I was never given the opportunity to see his face, in fact, I didn't really know him, for me he was just a shadow that walked through the town, an open secret, that stranger who brought misfortune on a small town, one more story

The day that tall man, wearing a man's hat and a blacksmith's horse, stepped onto the town for the first time, I will never be able to erase it from my memory, because it was the day that that quiet town on the shore the river became rtió in a real ghost town After the arrival of that man, during what remained of the day nothing else could be heard in the town that the murmurs about that tall and sturdy man, who walked with his gaze fixed on the ground so that no one He noticed that he brought hell itself in her, while he dragged the horse that had brought him here from far away during the cold night, savagely as if he were the beast.That day the stranger did not seek an inn, instead he took his horse and gave it to him.

He dragged himself until he came to a tavern, and there he stayed. What will his regret be? I had heard my mother say through her teeth. I will never know how the voice of that man was heard, only murmurs, the murmurs of the people who spoke about those who had no voice and only sorrows.

Murmurs of people who affirmed whether to think that the one who had come to town was not a man who loved and suffered, but who loved and suffered, unwary who without hesitation affirmed that in reality a soul in pain had just arrived at the town, a soul that all he wanted was rest. But above all, the voices of those who were happy were heard because a soul had arrived in the town dragging a treasure ready to be taken by a lucky man, poor souls in disgrace who were chasing even a lame rabbit, blind in search of at least one gold-plated coin to be able to die That night in the town it rained as it only did that night in December in which we were ending one more year, outside the murmurs had stopped because everyone had fled when they felt the first drops fall from the sky.

I watched attentively through the only window that the house had, waiting to see that man wander through the town again, but I had not had any luck, because that night the man stayed in the tavern drinking until he forgot which horse belonged to him. The rain fell without discrimination as if it wanted to cleanse the world, outside only the drops of water bouncing against the ground were heard along with the rays that in the distance illuminated the sky at least for a few seconds.

Despite the fact that I had lost the faith of being able to see the face of the stranger that everyone was talking about, I had remained by the window, because I liked to hear the noise of crickets and the hooting of owls in the distance, perhaps they were talking about that man that we had all heard about, or perhaps it was an omen, the truth is that I never imagined that this would be the last time they would be heard, now not even the cicadas are approaching the town, even the water has stopped falling What came Afterwards I will never be able to forget it, the next morning I arrived like any other, the rumors about the stranger had stopped or so they led us to believe and they were all ready to resume their lives as if nothing had happened.

That morning had started much earlier than usual, the sun had risen hours before five in the morning as if trying to make up the hours that he had not worked the previous afternoon. For the first time in several weeks the light reached every corner of the town, even so, it was a gloomy day. Bells were ringing in the church, but it was not a happy event, because no one was getting married that day.

Twelve bells rang the altar boy because death had decided to visit the town that night. That day the man who was on everyone's lips was not the stranger who had arrived the day before dragging his horse, but that man they had found as soon as the sun had risen, almost on the river bank with a huge cut that ran through his neck Again a rumor ran through the town as fast as tongues moved, but this time it was accompanied by something else, this time together with the murmurs of all those who had seen the body or those who claimed to have seen it, a terror was transmitted That he was contagious, because that quiet town in which he had grown up had been stained with blood.

It didn't take long for a third rumor to spread like the river, because that man with a priest belt and a long beard had disappeared. It did not take long, it did not even take much effort for those incompetent policemen of that small town to decide to blame that man with no name or past for what happened, no one doubted it and soon that man on the horse with shiny horseshoes was the murderer of the jester of the town.

I will never be able to understand the reason why everyone adopted that version as the only truth so quickly, maybe it was what they wanted, they did not care about the truth, they just wanted an answer, even if it came from those people who were unable to find their own nose No one ever saw even the shadow of that man in men's shoes again, many murmured about him like a soul, a shadow, for me it would never become more than a vague memory, a story that no one lived, but everyone told. Not much happened and that man had become the ghost of the story that they had told themselves so many times that they were beginning to believe that it was the only truth. Many claimed to see him move through the city, from one end to the other in the shadows, no one ever thought that a man was only passing one night in the town

The hours continued their course without stopping despite that event that had shaken the town, we all stared at the clock waiting for something to happen, as we used to do in that boring town. I had spent most of the day sitting on the ground waiting for my father to come home with some news, even if it was irrelevant as he did every day, in the distance you could still hear some people murmuring about the poor soul to whom their life had been taken from him in the middle of the night, but for most it was a thing of the past, many had forgotten what his name was, as if it had never existed and they had continued their lives, my mother was one of those people "that's right life ”, he had told me moments before entering the kitchen, I shook my head, I was only a girl but even I knew that life could not be that cruel and meaningless, I had been wrong.

The town in which I was born was a place too small to be on a map, in which one man could die and another disappear on the same day, but it would not matter because people would be busier thinking about when it would be wise to go and collect the water that fell from the waterfall together to the town

My mother never wanted to tell me the real name of the town she grew up in, the only thing she knew was that it was a place too small to be on a map where people murmured and died. that only four hours since they had discovered that man lying on the bank of the river that passed near the town, until the real panic swept the streets, because it only took two corpses for everyone to forget their lives and let terror invade the reason

That was a small town, in which people did not think because it was not necessary, the incompetent authorities had made sure that that was the only thing people thought. It did not take much more for two missing and later dead people for the people who lived in that place in the middle of nowhere to do something without anyone else telling them, even if it was something cowardly like running away, it was not an extraordinary fact that no one dared to stay in that blood-stained town, no one except my mother and me.

I spent hours sitting on the ground playing with the air, just as I did every day, while I listened to my parents discuss what the family should do, my father always sensible, I packed our luggage ready to leave town like a soul carried by the devil, while my mother, very brave, refused to set foot away from the place where she had been born, raised and raised a family, because she was sure that if in a The place had to perish, this would be said place. As the clock kept moving, minute after another, more and more people appeared who had disappeared and who were now in another place.

Although the people who continued to inhabit the town were few, the rumors had not stopped, there were still those who claimed that they had seen the shadow of that man in the black coat wander as he tried to flee on his huge horse, there were also those who They claimed to see him wander around town aimlessly looking for who would be the next to disappear, like a banshee in search of revenge, although as the clock continued to advance, ticking minutes, hours those murmurs faded. At my parents' house the screams had After that, my mother had returned to the kitchen where she was most of the time happy to have won that argument that in her opinion should never have existed, while my father read the newspaper that the postman had brought every Sunday since Sunday. nearest city, looking for news much worse than what happened in the village, while smoking his pipe sitting on the huge chair in the middle of the house, I can still hear him muttering "how can these people live in a city where such bad things happen", while reading his old newspapers.

I was always looking at my father, trying to decipher it, suddenly a great scream broke the silence, it was a great scream coming from the kitchen, I immediately recognized the voice of my mother who was screaming "FATHER!". Immediately my father got up from the chair with a little jump and went to the kitchen in search of my mother, I stayed sitting on the floor doing nothing, not even turning around to return my gaze to the entrance of the kitchen, because I was more afraid of my father than of the murderer who roamed the streets. A few minutes later my father returned to the living room with my mother in his arms, without waiting for her to say anything to me, I got up and ran to the other room I would never imagine that the next would be my father, I did not even wait for the sun

The next day we left that town stained with blood, with hearts full of sorrows and losses, I on a horse with new shoes and my mother with a hat on her head, a man's hat