Este conto foi escrito em meio a turbulência do isolamento social onde os anseios tomavam conta da minha mente e lembrava-me de lindos momentos de um festival de música que ocorreu em fevereiro de 2020, onde as pessoas eram livres para serem o que elas eram.

(Relato da autora sobre seu processo criativo)

They were dreams, lived in the sound that enchanted young souls and did not drown out their laughter, the purity of being vibrated in dances and resplendent youthful characteristics. I longed to have that remembrance marked in my memory until then, to delight them in the lap of my death when I saw their black tears merging with my still human tears. The world changed soon after these thoughts, a pandemic approached with violence and being isolated was the biggest recommendation.

I started to go unconsciously to get some air and enjoy the night in my own company. I always looked at the sky in the middle of nature. “Escape the stone jungle at least at night”. A voice in my mind said. Before the extreme darkness the light of the blood moon wore my skin on a freezing night, the wind blew the veil that covered my face, the night fell when I heard steps approaching. It was them, with their dark crown of bones, it seemed that they were coming to feed on my fear and I stayed there on my knees waiting. I heard a sweet voice starting the most engaging song I have ever witnessed, I was surprised to see that the woman who sang invited me to dance, hold her hands, her fingers had strange rings that went up to the pointed nails. I trembled when I looked at his eyes, they were deep and mesmerizing, his voice started to shake me down and I started to follow his steps, I was like a puppet, dominated by a look and a high-pitched voice. The other woman watched and smiled mischievously. My feet were already swelling and the dance didn’t stop. I started screaming furiously for the woman to stop moving, I remember hearing Machiavellian laughter before I fell on the floor and passed out.

When I opened my eyes and saw that an old man was beside me, his eyes were stagnant, I thought he was dead, but suddenly he spoke in a tired voice. “The virus is on the loose! And nobody cares, many will die without the purity of the air in constant solitude while dancing the same dance! You have nowhere to run, death has been with you since the moment you looked into her eyes. In an instant the expression on his face changed, he looked at the black sky and laughed weakly. I smelled a rotting odor that mixed with the smell of the flowers that were around. I was desperate to ask the man what he was laughing about. I heard the woman’s voice again behind me who said, “Now can you see the dead, lovely girl?” I looked slightly and there was no one else, not even the old man was there.

Since always, I started to fear that I no longer have control over my body, I was afraid of being a big puppet dominated by delusion.

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Conto escrito por Angelina Moraes, acadêmica do 9° nível do curso de Letras – Português, Inglês e Respectivas Literaturas.