The Familiar

Legend:

The Familiar is one of the best-known legends of northwestern Argentina, especially associated with the old sugar mills of Tucumán.

According to tradition, it is a supernatural creature that usually appears in the form of an enormous black dog, much larger than an ordinary animal. Stories told by sugar mill workers spoke of an animal that roamed the roads at night and could take away anyone who crossed its path.

The legend says that some owners or administrators of the estates kept the Familiar hidden in a secluded part of the establishment. It was said that there was a room reserved for the creature and that, to keep it satisfied, workers were given to it as food. The fear of becoming one of its victims caused laborers to avoid certain places and roads at night.

Over time, the story became especially associated with sugar mills and the disappearances of workers. The Familiar thus became a figure of terror connected to the harvest season, the sugarcane fields, and the large sugar-producing estates of northern Argentina.

For those who worked there, it was not simply a story.

It was something that could be waiting somewhere in the darkness of the mill.

And when night fell, nobody wanted to find out whether it really existed.

Story:

The sugar mill had been operating for less than five years, but it was already on the verge of bankruptcy.

The machines broke down frequently, production had fallen over the previous months, and the debts kept piling up. The owners had started laying off workers, and some suppliers no longer wanted to deliver goods without being paid in advance.

In the town, people said the sugar mill would not last much longer.

Until, from one day to the next, everything changed.

Without anyone being able to explain how, the machines began working better than ever. Production increased, orders started arriving from other provinces, and money began coming in.

The sugar mill, which had seemed destined to close, began making a profit.

The owners hired more workers.

They bought new machinery.

And they reopened sections that had not been used for months.

All except one.

There was one section of the sugar mill that remained closed.

The following month, one of the workers went to Don Zoilo's office.

His name was Ramón, and he had been worried for several days. He had a debt he couldn't pay and needed money before the end of the week.

—Don Zoilo, I wanted to ask for an advance.

Zoilo looked up from the papers on his desk.

—How much?

Ramón told him the amount.

The man opened a drawer, took out some bills, and placed them on the desk.

—I can give you this.

Ramón took the money.

—Thank you, Don Zoilo.

Zoilo looked back at the papers.

—There's one thing. You're going to have to do a job for me this week.

—What job?

—There are some repairs that need to be done in the back section.

Ramón thought for a moment.

—The closed section?

Zoilo nodded.

—Talk to Aníbal. He'll let you in.

Ramón put the money in his pocket.

—What needs repairing?

—A few things. Nothing complicated.

Zoilo picked up the papers again, making it clear that the conversation was over.

Ramón left the office and went looking for Aníbal.

He found him near the machines, inspecting one of the production lines.

—Aníbal.

The foreman looked up.

—What is it?

—Don Zoilo sent me to the back section. He says there are some repairs to do.

Aníbal stopped inspecting the machine.

For a few seconds, he said nothing.

Then he looked toward the other end of the sugar mill.

—He sent you?

—Yes.

Aníbal slowly let out his breath.

—All right. I'll take you there first thing tomorrow morning.

Ramón nodded.

The next day, Aníbal opened the door to the closed section.

Ramón went inside.

The door closed behind him.

Aníbal returned to his duties.

And that was the last time anyone ever saw Ramón.

Days passed, and Ramón did not return.

At first, nobody paid much attention.

The workers assumed he had finished the job and stayed home.

But then the questions began.

Don Zoilo usually walked through the sugar mill every morning. He greeted the workers, checked the machines, and asked about production.

During one of those rounds, one of the men approached him.

—Don Zoilo, what about Ramón?

Zoilo continued walking for a few steps before answering.

—His mother wasn't doing well. He went back to be with her.

—He just left like that?

—Well... family matters.

The worker nodded and returned to his post.

Later, another worker asked him the same question.

Zoilo gave him the same answer.

—A shame about Ramón. He was a good worker.

And he continued walking through the sugar mill as if nothing had happened.

Weeks passed, until a month had gone by since Ramón's disappearance.

That day, Don Zoilo and Aníbal were in the office going over some matters concerning the sugar mill.

Zoilo looked out the window.

—Is there anyone who needs money?

Aníbal looked up.

—Why?

—To give him an advance.

Aníbal remained silent for a few seconds.

—Maybe.

Zoilo looked back at the papers on his desk.

—Think of someone who's having a hard time. Him, his family... someone who needs some help.

Aníbal began going through the workers in his mind.

—Well, boss... there's one. He's a relative who came from far away. He's having a rough time, drinks a lot, sometimes shows up late... but when it comes to work, he works.

Zoilo looked up.

—Well. We have a winner.

Aníbal nodded.

—But, boss... he's my relative.

Zoilo slammed his fist against the desk.

—Then it's either him or you, Aníbal!

Aníbal remained silent.

—All right, boss. I'll talk to him... so he can go now.

Zoilo looked at him and nodded from behind the desk.

Aníbal left the office and crossed the sugar mill yard.

—Pato! Hey, Pato! Where are you?

After a few seconds, he heard a voice from one of the sheds.

—Over here!

Pato appeared, wiping his hands with a rag.

—What's up, Aníbal?

—I need you to go to the back section. There are some machines we need to repair.

Pato frowned.

—Now?

—Yeah. The boss is paying double.

Pato smiled.

—Double?

—Double.

—Great. All right, let's go.

Aníbal and Pato reached the closed section.

Aníbal opened the door and let Pato inside with his tools.

—Just so you know, you have to stay all night. The boss needs the machines ready by tomorrow. Don't let me down, Pato.

Pato looked at him in surprise.

—All night?

—Yeah.

—And he pays double?

—He pays double.

Pato smiled.

—Just for one day, Pato. Tomorrow you go back home.

—All right, great.

Aníbal left.

—See you, Pato.

—See you.

Aníbal closed the door.

Pato was alone.

Pato spent the entire afternoon looking for something to do.

He checked the machines one by one.

They were all working.

Nothing was broken.

There was nothing to repair.

There were even tools neatly arranged on a table, clean and ready to use.

Pato looked around, confused.

—What the hell did they send me here for?

After a while, he decided to leave.

He went to the door and pulled the handle.

It didn't open.

He tried again.

Nothing.

—Goddamn it...

He figured Aníbal had locked it from the outside and would come back later.

So he waited.

The afternoon slowly faded away.

When it began to get dark, Pato sat against a wall. He had found a stick lying on the floor and began moving it between his hands absentmindedly.

He looked at the machines again.

They were still working.

Everything was in order.

And the more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

They had offered him double pay to stay all night repairing machines that were already working perfectly.

So the entire afternoon and part of the night passed like that.

Around three in the morning, Pato was sleeping on a makeshift bed made from some crates and an old blanket.

Then he opened his eyes.

At first, he didn't understand what had woken him.

In front of him, in the darkness, were two red eyes.

Pato remained motionless.

The red eyes remained fixed on him.

Then he could make out the body.

It was a dog.

But he had never seen a dog that big.

It stood a few meters from the bed. It was completely black, with long, dirty fur. Its legs were thick and ended in long claws that scraped the floor every time it moved.

Pato swallowed hard.

The animal slowly raised its head.

It had an enormous muzzle.

Its teeth protruded between its lips.

Pato tried to move, but couldn't.

The dog took one step toward him.

Then another.

The floor creaked beneath its paws.

Pato backed away on the makeshift bed.

—No...

The animal kept coming closer.

It was far too large to be a normal dog.

And those red eyes never left his.

Pato ran.

The place wasn't very large, but he ran anyway, crashing into the walls as he searched for a way out.

—Aníbal! Get me out of here! Aníbal, you son of a bitch! Aníbal!

He pounded on the door.

—Help! Help!

Behind him, he heard the animal's paws striking the floor.

Pato turned around.

The dog ran toward him.

It caught him and knocked him to the ground.

Pato fell onto his back and began crawling backward with his arms, trying to get away.

The animal slowly advanced toward him.

Pato was crying.

—No! No, please! Get me out of here!

When the dog was on top of him, Pato gathered his strength and pushed against it with his arms, trying to get it off.

The animal struck him with its paws and knocked him down again.

Now it was on top of him.

Pato cried and screamed.

—Please! Get me out of here!

The dog opened its mouth and sank its teeth into his neck.

Pato stopped screaming.

Minutes later, the animal disappeared into the darkness.

Pato died there.

The next morning, Aníbal reached the closed section.

He opened the door.

There was no blood.

There was no dog.

And Pato was gone.

Aníbal remained there for a few seconds, staring at the empty room.

Then he closed the door.

—Well... I hope this is still worth it.

And he went back to work.

Every month, a worker disappeared.

And every month, another took his place.

The sugar mill kept producing.

The machines never stopped.

The contracts kept coming in.

And Don Zoilo kept making money.

Meanwhile, at some point during the month, Aníbal would go looking for another worker who needed an advance.

Someone with debts.

A family to support.

Some problem to solve.

Because there was always someone willing to accept double pay.

And there was always someone waiting behind that door.