—Javier, come here for a moment —my father called from the hallway, with that tired voice he always used at dusk. I was in the farmyard, throwing corn to the chickens, when I looked up and saw the sky turning gray.—What's wrong? —I replied without moving, because something in his tone didn't sound normal.My father pointed toward the pig pen.—One of the pigs is acting strange. It won't stop staring at the house.
I walked over slowly, expecting one of those silly moments you later laugh about, but no. The pig stood completely still, its head raised and its eyes fixed on the kitchen window.—It's probably just hot —I said, trying to sound calm.—I don't like the way you say that —my father muttered.—Me neither —I replied, and I kept staring at it until it let out a snort and turned away.
That night, while helping close up the farm, I heard a dry noise behind the shed.—Did you hear that? —I asked.My father froze.—I didn't hear anything.—Yes, you did —I insisted, because this time it had been clear, like someone hitting wood from the inside.He gave me an uneasy look.—Javier, don't start.—I'm not starting anything.—Then keep working.
But the noise came back, slower this time, like nails scraping against a wall. The dogs, who always barked at everything, stayed silent. My father swallowed hard.—Go get the flashlight.—Why?—To see what the hell is making that noise.
When we shined the light into the shed, there was no one there. Just old tools, torn sacks, and damp earth. Still, one of the pigs began to groan from the back of the pen, with a sound so long it almost seemed like a person drowning.
—I told you —my mother whispered from the kitchen doorway—. There's something wrong here.—Don't talk nonsense —my father replied, though his voice no longer sounded certain.I kept staring into the darkness of the pen, and then I saw it: a silhouette standing among the animals, too tall to be a man, completely still, as if hiding without needing to move.—Dad… —I said, pointing the flashlight.He pointed it too, but when the light hit that spot, there was nothing there.
—What did you see? —my mother asked.I hesitated before answering.—I don't know… it looked like a person.—There's no one here —my father said, but he said it too quickly, like he was trying to convince himself.From inside the house, a chicken let out a short, sharp screech, and we all turned at the same time.
The next morning, I found a VHS tape lying near the old television in the storage room. I didn't remember seeing it before. It had a label written in black marker, worn by time: "DO NOT PLAY."—Dad, look at this —I said, holding it up.He frowned.—Where did you get that?—I don't know. It was here.—Then throw it away.
But something inside me forced me to walk toward the TV.—I just want to see what's on it —I whispered.My mother, from the doorway, said:—Javier, don't.—It's just a tape.—Exactly —she replied.
I inserted the tape. The machine took a few seconds to turn on, as if hesitating. First came static. Then a blurry image of the farm. My chest tightened.—That's here —I said softly.And then, through the white noise, a figure appeared standing beside the pigs.
It had no arms. Its neck was far too long. Its body looked human, but wrong, as if someone had tried to remember what a person looks like and failed. The image trembled. On the screen, the thing tilted its head very slowly, and though I couldn't clearly see its face, I felt that it was smiling.
—Turn it off —my mother said, her voice, for the first time, truly afraid.—I'm not doing anything —I replied, because I couldn't move.
The figure opened its mouth, and suddenly the TV released a broken sound, like a voice trying to come out from inside the static. Then it spoke.
—Javier…
I froze. My father stepped back. The screen filled with noise. I tried to pull out the tape, but my hands were already shaking too much. And in the middle of the white crackling, before the image completely cut out, I saw something impossible:
The same figure was no longer inside the television.
Now it was behind me.