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CARLOS RIBEIRO284wall or telephone pole or in the little bedroom at the back and could appear atany moment, and that was terrible, because he never appeared, and you ran andlooked, as if you could catch him in his mischief but you could never decide if hewas there or if he had always been there – and where did all the dead go? Wheredid all the dead in the world go? Were there enough walls and rooms for all ofthem to hide in? And you thought about this, there, lying on the bed, huggingyour mother, but you were still so small and someone could say: No, he couldn’thave such deep thoughts because he was so tiny. But until your father and yourbrother appeared, the world was a disguised monster who laughed at your fear,and between you and it there was just your mother who told stories of the oldendays, and sometimes you even doubted her and thought (in terror) that shewould turn her face to you and you would see that her face was that of a monster,or even the devil himself, and you closed your eyes so as not have to face thereality of a transformation, which was so irremediably sad because there wouldbe no more salvation – and everything was transformed – the bedroom, thesilence of the bedroom, her voice, the faraway waves and the wind in the palmtrees – into a gruesome gullet that opened to devour you, and you wanted to runalong the dark corridors, opening doors, fleeing and running deep into the night,so as not to think because that is all you wanted, my boy, and you would traverseall the nights of your life and experience all the fears and see all the monsters,and experience the monsters’ mass attack, like that night when you woke upscreaming, desperate because ants and spiders were climbing up your legs, yourstomach and your arms and you screamed desperately and your parents turnedon the light, shook you, caressed you and said: look, son, there are no spiders inhere, and you still saw them for fractions of a second and saw them disappear,like a miracle and you sobbed a lot, my little boy, and all your fears were solvedwith that magic “click” of the switch and the light which revealed your parents’familiar faces, who were God with his tremendous power of annihilating all theevils in the world with just one blow – and wasn’t it exactly what was happeningnow, with your father arriving with your brother and turning on the light in theliving room, which softly lit the bedroom, and you opened your eyes and sawthat it really was your mother there by your side (could it be the devil himselfwho knew how to disguise himself so well?, you were still capable of thinkingthat, but soon there would be no more doubts and you would be ashamed ofhaving thought it), and you felt the urge to say:“Mother, do you forgive me?”And she would ask: “Why is that son?”And you would not have the courage to say: “Because I thought that youwere the devil.” And you would just say: “Because I was afraid of you.”And all this silliness would be erased from your head because someonewould turn on the TV, which had the power to dissolve all the ghosts of yoursoul, perhaps that is why you like it so much, and really felt great pleasure