Cronología de la muerte

Capítulo 73

The travelers returned to the truck, which began to reverse. With a roar of the engine, the truck was now facing the mysterious gate. Plants were constantly being scraped and broken, making way for them. The truck squeezed into the rebellious entrance, like a newborn baby bursting from its mother's body.

They entered a new, green world. What a vibrant world! Wild plants trembled and breathed here. Every inch of ground was covered with crawling and climbing plants. Vines hung and meandered, crawling like snakes, as if their end was just a few feet ahead. They couldn't tell which way was which; the tree trunks were covered with moss and epiphytes: ferns and bromeliads. Tiny, pale orchids took root in the fertile corners of the soil and in the cracks of the trees.

A rare bird gave a warning, a monkey broke a branch, and my friends held their breath in great surprise.

"That's amazing."

"It's just like paradise!"

"It transcends reality."

This was their unanimous opinion that Walter—and I, the dead—had done a great job bringing them to this magnificent paradise as their Christmas gift.

There is no doubt that lunch will be in those baskets, and it will be a Christmas picnic.

But where is Walter?

The black dot, peering through a green net, pointed to an opening: "We just need to follow this path uphill."

Oil and fish bones have restored the lush gate to its original state.

At this point, the black dot indicated that we had to get off the bus and walk.

The Road to Heaven (3)

Walking on two feet?

My friends are confused. What else is worth seeing besides these? What's further ahead? There must be something even better, right?

So they followed the new guide without question, trekking through the jungle full of traps and along the path marked by black dots.

Benny wiped his forehead: "Walter said we'd be walking a long way, that's a huge understatement."

Like obedient schoolchildren, they followed the black dot into the tropical jungle. They didn't even know the person's name.

They walked willingly and blindly, getting closer and closer to a tribe that had been waiting for them for over a hundred years...

Love Syndrome (1)

A hotel by Bodhi Lake.

On the newly renovated cottage terrace, poor Berhali lay on a wooden deckchair. Before worrying about the safety of Jumarin and the others, he spent hours angrily fantasizing.

For God's sake, today is Christmas!

He was all alone here, bored out of his mind, while they frolicked around like elves, getting their noses red from the beer of the Kingdom of Lanna! And one thing was for sure, they were talking about jokes about last night's fire.

He continued to grumble: "No matter where they are, they should at least make a phone call! This lack of communication is just too much." But then he thought about it again: in such a remote hotel, would they even have a phone?