Prologue
The pool of water that had collected from last night’s rain looked so oddly dark, that I could not help but become motionless with terror due to its unusual intensity. As I was sitting on our patio overlooking the garden I felt myself engulfed by its darkness and welcoming the abyss that suddenly appeared before me I heard within me the call of those that inhabit the other side of the world of reflections of what we consider real. Then I was suddenly interrupted by the insisting call of my daughter who was just learning to drive the new Ford T that I had recently imported and... the spell was broken.
It was 1910 and twenty-one years had elapsed since the horror and diabolism of Ferdinand’s demise, an experience that had opened my eyes to the obscure wonders of the world. The experience had, as a collateral effect induced spontaneous visions of a secret rapture, visions that had shown me a part of the world that is often spoken about in whispers and secrecy for fear of being labeled mad or at worst possessed. The visions had increased in recent years as if they presaged an event that announced itself with insistence and that would require the breaking of a vow of silence concerning the events of my youth. So, I gathered my children and proceeded to narrate my story.
