Los siete ratones ciegos
Se podía escuchar su débil deambular, sonidos errantes entre los tachos de basura. Se decía, que jamás nadie los había visto, pero a pesar de eso se sabía de su existencia.
Hacía ya varios años, la señora Edith, la más longeva de la comunidad, había relatado el suceso, eran siete ratones ciegos, de colas largas y orejas pequeñas, hocico trompudo con algunos bigotes. Doña Edith, había muerto hace casi cuatro años, sin embargo su relato se regó de lugar en lugar.
Estas eran ratas sucias que estaban acostumbrados a comer basura, habían hecho del callejón más oscuro su hogar. A pesar de eso, nos daba enorme curiosidad, cada gato que allí entraba jamás salía con su presa, quizás estos ratones eran más listos de lo que todos pensaban.
Llevaba varias semanas tratando de descubrir a estos ratones, algunos decían que eran tan enormes como un perro rottweiler, otros habitantes musitaban qué estas ratas habían transportado un sin fin de enfermedades y hasta algunos aseveraban qué los siete ratones podían hablar nuestro propio lenguaje.
Cada habitante, al que entrevistaba, decía una nueva hipótesis; pero sabía que había algo más allí, algo que aún no se veía tan claro.
Ya entrado el invierno, el frío hizo más lenta mi investigación. Rente una habitación, esta, quedaba perfectamente hacia el callejón, lugar donde aquellos ratones habían convertido en su cuchitril de resguardo.
A modo de entender y por fin llevar claridad, pase la noche en vela, trataba de escuchar el sonido y de paso grabarlo en mi máquina grabadora.
Las gotas de lluvia, pronto se hicieron notar, y en medio de ellas, sentí el ruido de estos ratones.
No eran rasguños, claro que no lo eran, este sonido era distinto, parecían pisadas qué se arrastraban, como si siguieran una fila o extraño patrón ¿qué ratón haría algo así? Eso me dio luces a que detrás de este misterio había algo más que extraño.
Tome el paraguas y me abotone la gabardina, camine tan lento como pude. Al final de aquel callejón, entre una pila de cartones, lograba vislumbrar un extraño movimiento.
Mi curiosidad me obligó a encender la linterna, a pesar de eso, el sonido continuó como si esta difusa luz no existiera.
Seguí avanzando lento, el sudor se hizo presente, y hasta sentía que mi corazón escaparía en cualquier momento.
Cerré el paraguas, la lluvia caía muy fuerte, sin embargo lo necesitaba como arma en caso de cualquier cosa. Con él, corrí las cajas, quedé helado, con la boca abierta, jamás pensé encontrar lo que mis incrédulos ojos veían.
Allí, en medio de la lluvia, los siete ratones, todos ellos ciegos, calvos, escualidos, desnudos y descalzos. No eran ratones reales, eran jóvenes, niñas y niños de edades entre los dieciocho y los quince.
Todos ellos atados con una soga por sus cinturas, la fila la comenzaba un joven, al parecer él era el mayor, al final con la soga colgando a su espalda, una escuálida niña, se veían sus llagas.
Retrocedí tan lento que ninguno de ellos me escuchó, desde la esquina de aquel callejón llamé a la policía y a una ambulancia, los curiosos se hicieron notar muy rápido, murmuraban alegres qué por fin verían a los ratones. Sin embargo, el acto fue aún más duro de lo que todos esperaban.
Una policía llevaba al joven de la mano, el muchacho encorvado, su piel tan sucia qué no se podría decir cuál era su tono real, arrastraba sus pies en forma tal que el resto seguía el mismo andar.
Un desfile de ratones ciegos, pasó por el callejón hasta la ambulancia, para cuando subieron a la última de la fila, miró hacia sus lados sin ver nada y cual ratón alzó la nariz tratando de oler algo conocido.
En medio de la lluvia y los curiosos, la misma niña, la última en la fila, de esos siete ratones ciegos habló de forma errante, sin embargo el nombre fue tan claro que todos quedaron boquiabiertos.
-”Mamá Edith ¿eres tú al fin?”-
Tras una extensa investigación, se supo a ciencia cierta, que los siete jóvenes, eran hijos de aquella dulce mujer, madre adoptiva para ser realistas, ya que eran los hijos de su difunta hermana y en venganza ésta los había tratado de aquella manera tan ruin.
Cada uno de esos jóvenes, habían subsistido comiendo basura, y cuando nada encontraban comían su propio cabello, sus cabezas presentaban enormes heridas al igual que sus brazos y piernas.
Nunca fueron ratones reales, y lo que todos veían en sombras, eran a los pobres desafortunados arrastrando sus pies descalzos por el frío o el calor, siempre en silencio y sin ver nada, por que lo único real en esta historia, es que esos siete desafortunados si eran realmente ciegos.
English
The seven blind mice
You could hear their faint wandering, wandering sounds among the garbage cans. It was said that no one had ever seen them, but in spite of that, they were known to exist.
Several years ago, Mrs. Edith, the oldest of the community, had told the story of seven blind mice, with long tails and small ears, a long snub-nosed snout with some whiskers. Doña Edith had died almost four years ago, but her story was spread from place to place.
These were dirty rats that were used to eating garbage, they had made the darkest alley their home. In spite of that, we were extremely curious, every cat that went in there never came out with its prey, maybe these mice were smarter than everyone thought.
I had been trying to discover these mice for several weeks, some said they were as big as a Rottweiler dog, other inhabitants mused that these rats had transported an endless number of diseases and some even asserted that the seven mice could speak our own language.
Each inhabitant, whom I interviewed, said a new hypothesis; but I knew that there was something else there, something that was still not so clear.
As winter set in, the cold slowed my research. I rented a room, this one was perfectly located towards the alley, the place where those mice had turned into their hiding place.
In order to understand and finally bring clarity, I spent the night awake, trying to listen to the sound and record it on my recording machine.
The raindrops soon became noticeable, and in the midst of them, I felt the noise of these mice.
They were not scratches, of course they were not, this sound was different, they sounded like footsteps that were dragging, as if they were following a line or a strange pattern, what mouse would do something like that? That gave me light that behind this mystery there was something more than strange.
I took the umbrella and buttoned up my raincoat, walking as slowly as I could. At the end of that alley, among a pile of cardboard, I caught a glimpse of a strange movement.
My curiosity forced me to turn on the flashlight, in spite of that, the sound continued as if this diffuse light did not exist.
I continued to walk slowly, sweating, and I even felt that my heart would escape at any moment.
I closed the umbrella, the rain was falling very hard, however I needed it as a weapon in case of anything. With it, I ran the boxes, I was frozen, with my mouth open, I never thought I would find what my incredulous eyes were seeing.
There, in the middle of the rain, the seven mice, all of them blind, bald, scrawny, naked and barefoot. They were not real mice, they were young people, girls and boys between the ages of eighteen and fifteen.
All of them tied with a rope around their waists, the line was started by a young man, apparently he was the oldest, at the end with the rope hanging behind his back, a scrawny girl, her sores were visible.
I backed away so slowly that none of them heard me, from the corner of that alley I called the police and an ambulance, the onlookers made themselves noticed very quickly, they murmured happily that they would finally see the mice. However, the act was even harsher than everyone expected.
A policewoman led the young man by the hand, the boy hunched over, his skin so dirty you couldn't tell what his real tone was, shuffling his feet in such a way that the rest followed suit.
A parade of blind mice passed through the alley to the ambulance, and when they got to the last one in line, he looked sideways without seeing anything and, like a mouse, raised his nose trying to smell something familiar.
In the midst of the rain and the curious, the same girl, the last in the line, of those seven blind mice spoke in a wandering way, however the name was so clear that everyone was dumbfounded.
-Mother Edith, is that you at last?
After an extensive investigation, it was known for certain that the seven young people were the children of that sweet woman, adoptive mother to be realistic, since they were the children of her deceased sister and in revenge she had treated them in such a dastardly way.
Each one of those youngsters had subsisted by eating garbage, and when they found nothing they ate their own hair, their heads had huge wounds as well as their arms and legs.
They were never real mice, and what they all saw in shadows were the poor unfortunates dragging their bare feet in the cold or the heat, always in silence and without seeing anything, because the only real thing in this story is that those seven unfortunates were really blind.
