Part 1: When things happen and these are more than just talk, when you realize that what causes the fear Buckthorn is closer than you think, and never go back to being the same. For some it may be a peace, knowing that there is somehow something else, but most think they will anxiously whether those left wandering in a world that no longer belongs to them.
I live in a village where there are only two bars and shops, near a witch city, the birthplace of legends knock Toledo. Surely there is something in that city and its surroundings makes most extraordinary and sometimes terrifying events will occur so often in their land. I was only a child when they told me that my grandfather had died, from one day to another, they told me that an "accident. But no one knew or wanted to tell me what it was not until one night in which my father was especially gloomy in which he called me to tell me. He said, "Son, I tell you this so that you never make the same mistake your grandfather and you know that there are lines that should never be crossed. It's very hard but record it in your mind forever. I'll tell you how your grandfather died. " And then he told me this story that made me more than one night having nightmares and turn around without knowing when I walk alone at night.
There was a strange child in my village, we felt an instinctive other young rejection to him, even though he had never actually do anything wrong. However, his big eyes blinked rarely was something dark, perhaps madness or just loneliness. That child was called Frederick and was the last and seventh child of a poor family living in one of the last houses.
Gradually he began to run the rumor that Federico had some hidden abnormal powers, and its aura everyone started to believe that indeed it was. Ya never know if those were pure superstition or not, but fear of people began to grow and many said that if they ever revealed the powers of Federico, ruin would befall the entire village. Increasingly it looked less to Federico through the streets, and only a few walkers sometimes saw him in the woods or on the plain, sometimes standing and staring at nothing and other walking distracted but steadily with a sack, no one knew how, somewhere.
I did not know, but there were several people in the village who practiced magical rites sometimes contact with the beyond and even satanic, and the master and leader of all of them was my own grandfather. When I found out I understood why sometimes it was at night and arrived when almost became the day as often as the visiting, because my mother always looked with suspicion and never wanted to go out and spend the night in the hut where he lived. I understood too much ... the story continues in revenge against the Sons of Satan (Part 2)