That afternoon, a particularly melancholic one, a thorny and turbulent tide in the shape of fog in the sky, was almost brushing the tangled surface of the top of the grey mountains. The plants and bushes that were there could not stop dancing in a synchronized and continuous stupid cheer, just like deeply hypnotized creatures of the forests at complete mercy of the moody winds. A few drops of water, almost frozen, heavy and vainly crystalline, were scattered here and there, as if they were watered by the action of a giant hand hidden behind the infinite and swirling blanket of fog. Conspiracy, murder, I'm sure! A dead man with his legs tangled, evidently a farmer, had spent his last minutes on the face of the Earth because of a fatal blow to his head; his eyes, still open to the sky, had not yet lost their luster and were still a mirror for the nebular and devilish white tide, the only movement that could still be seen on his figure, was the flapping side of his hat trapped under the weight of his still warm head. Some seconds earlier, the blood had began to spread down the hill, and had finally come to seep into the pores of the fertile black and prolific soil, of those winding labyrinths of rock and vegetation that were hidden in that high region; a place almost inaccessible in itself and still unexplored by men, precisely situated in the middle of the mountains that surround the northern plains of Argentina.
In was in those plains, on the lower slopes of the gray mountains, that was located the small town of Jauja; all its inhabitants, mainly simple farm people that conserved their old traditions and superstitions, used to tell all their children, generation through generation and with the aid of tales and songs, about the mysterious place hidden up there in the foggy mountains. Nobody really knew if those stories and legends were true or not, nobody could even get to remember someone who had dared to go over there, and find out what made that place so special and dangerous; the oldest people in town just warned everyone about daring to put a foot on those regions; so the rule was just kept and everybody lived in peace. Life was like this in Jauja since long time ago, since a moment lost inside a dense brume of time; but right now, in this very moment, if you were there up high in the mountains, you could listen the wind, with that characteristic language that it has when he angrily howls terrific substantives, whistles rude predicates and screams verbs that resound like a hundred jaguars fighting inside a cathedral, As well you can hear loud applauses, very loud applauses, applauses here and there, scattered throughout the entire mountain; starting and stopping, stopping and starting again; on top of a cliff, behind a mound of rocks, now near, now far and from behind, now lost far away on the horizon behind the fog, also several at the same time, and after a few moments of silence, a horrendous rain of applauses start again on a tremendous and chaotic symphony within a terrible nightmare. But who may have a mood as black as to applaud at the very face of the dead, with which sarcastic reason devoid of all grace, with which lack of piety and respect. I Repeat, Conspiracy, murder! Horrendous murder.
It was told in the small town of Jauja, that up there in the heights of the enormous devilish mountains had been lost, or even worst, Alejandro Yáñez had perished; he had not returned since the previous afternoon when he had gone to graze his sheep, and had left his wife and his two little “chamucos”, as he used to call his two little kids, in extreme pain and drowning in a lake of tears; all the sheep except for one were found scattered on the slopes of the mountains, so people in the town thought that when this one escaped from the main herd, Alejandro Yáñez had decided going in her search, and if worse comes to worst, he had fallen down a cliff or been attacked by some wild beast; Some hope remained and he had only been caught by the night, and just decided to take shelter covering himself with some bushes, or inside a cave for protection against the storm of the day before, with a little more of luck maybe he was already limping back with a badly injured leg, and in just some hours, all that experience would be only a great shock and an adventure to tell to his family, and to the wider community among laughs, a fire and a good hot borcha; but while this did not happen, the young, brave and strong men accompanied by the most experienced, wise and mature men were in gait to know, hear, see and discover the secrets of the mighty mountains; they had all come and gathered in the morning and had been protected with an armor made of woven blessings of their aunts, sisters, grandmothers, wives, girlfriends and daughters and had been gone following the path, that after a general consensus it was decided, to be the most likely to have been used by Yáñez to look for the lost sheep. The group focused on a precise tracking strategy by advancing only a few steps at once while calling Yáñez, yelling and screaming as loud as possible, and then stopping, completely and in absolute silence to try and hear a noise or at least a fainting voice given by the lost peasant; otherwise they could try and hear the nervous sheep equipped with a tiny metal bell, running lost and scared somewhere ahead, and which would probably also ensure the closeness of its owner. Eyes wide open complemented the used technique, the group stopped to listen but also to observe, it was well known, thanks to the good memory of the wife of the disappeared, that at the time of his departure Yáñez was using a filthy jacket; yes, filthy, but still made with bright yellow fabric on the chest and on the back, which could facilitate in some way, its distinction from a background constructed with different shades of green and brown, and also full of shadows casted by large trees and high cliffs of hard, sharp rock. The men advanced and covered a whole bunch of hills surrounding cliffs and walking through extensive paths and whirling roads, up and down through high-risk impossible ways; oh so muddy and slippery!, more than one got a good hit by falling hard on a tricky stone, but the gang continued and Yáñez was still only a missing friend. The news that each hour were brought by a messenger going up and down of the hills informed of his absence and of the increasing desperation of his family; but if this was not enough, the moody sky was beginning to be desperate too.
Oh my Holy Virgin of Jauja! If there are skyscrapers in the cities those hills could be called “cloudscrapers”. Several had to return, not for lack of manliness, cold, fear, fatigue, or simple desire to be at home drinking a hot borcha with their families, but it was only that the height, wreaked havoc in their best men by increasing the speed of their breaths and heart pumps, and therefore, by cutting the vital food that the body needs on its internal stream of blood. Involuntary blackouts occurred, and although some say no, there was one who only pretended to faint. Like that, in silence voicing the prayers that their parents taught them and that now they teach to their children, they were about to decide the return.
- Holy Virgin of Jauja! Stop with your breath the force of those treacherous polar clouds, protect us with your celestial mantle of the swinging vegetation that covers the edges of high and deadly cliffs, wrap us with the force field of your sight from the dangers of wild beasts, and give us by a moment the light of your ethereal aura to illuminate our path… Listen!... -, Said one of the men ... The sound was very faint but definitely clear, it was a metal object, just the rattle of the lost sheep wandering around there somewhere really near; they began to walk fast and they were all trying to make as little noise as possible, by penetrating deeper into the thickness of the hill, in the direction where their ears turned their heads and eyes, they stopped, readjusted their direction and they set out again, some men had mistaken the way, had climbed up a hill and had to go down again to make a correction; at some point the matter had become a competition to see who was the first to find the sheep, “men will always be boys after all” a man thought his wife would say, and suddenly the group reached the point, both physical and psychological, where a great wall of rock and moss was right on the middle of their way; only a narrow crack opened in the middle of the gigantic mass of rock like a miracle, it was showing itself tiny, timid behind some plants and thickets, but still promising before their eyes. The little opening was slightly pronouncing the metallic tinkle of the metal bell, as faint as if it was being carried by the dust or being breath away by the sleeping rock; several men had to take off their knapsacks on their backs and leave them on that side of the monstrous wall of stone to be able to pass, fatter men shrank their abdomens that were compressed as much as possible to enter the tiny stone groove. Finally, in the other side, removing the dust from their bodies, adding warm and acid saliva to their scratches and the fat fellows decompressing their selves back to normal, they all strained their ears and could hear again, and even stronger, the clear metal taps, then perceived finally the bleating of the lost animal, quickly went up the hill where at each step the clouds seemed to wrap them more and more, and the vegetation became more scarce, until finally, not through many minutes, a man, that all qualified as a bit clumsy, spotted in the bushes the elusive sheep, and called his companions loudly and nervously, after some stupid attempts to get the sheep, he ended up by frighten the already scared animal; full of thorns on her body she ran in the opposite direction just a couple of minutes, until some of the men reached her and ended by corner her and immobilize her. Panting both, the sheep and the men, they were finally reached by the rest of the group, they all gave their opinions, explanations and even congratulated the clumsy guy who was red with pride, it was a short moment full with joy and laughter, but after they all recovered their composure and were breathing normally they decided to spend a moment of silence and recovery; suddenly, they were struck by that demonic noise: -It sounds like applauses-, said one, -it comes from the other side of that rock- said another, and full of intrigue walked the firsts, while the others tried to tie the found sheep and make her silent, they surrounded a small stone and finally discovered two shocking things: The first, the largest and most important discovery of the flora in the region, in our country and in the whole Planet!, a field full with the most curious plant; from a normal eye perspective, a medium sized one, like a small bush, turquoise green and with shiny appearance; now, after many and varied scientific studies, it is known harmless and with high medicinal properties, but it is on the leaves, arising horizontally from their stems, where this plant is really special, the leaves are fleshy and have large amounts of liquid as well of small red seeds on their inside, but their shape!, my beloved Virgin of Jauja! The leaves have the exact shape and size of human hands all along with their five fingers! and by hitting themselves against each other with the aid of the wind they produce a sound identical to human applauses! This plant is now cultivated in the region, imported to all parts of the World and has made possible an enormous progress in the town of Jauja. We now know, that scientists have given them the name of “Clapios”, not a strange name for a plant that applauses; but we do not mind about the name but about the prosperity and happiness that has given to our people. By the way, the second shocking discovery behind the big rock on the hill, was the cold death body of Alejandro Yáñez, who had slipped from the top and smashed his big head against a large rock, oh my Virgin of Jauja, he was always a bit distracted.
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