Máscara humanas
La familia había crecido como están en la obligación de crecer las que desean dejar herederos de generación en generación. Edgar era de la familia, pero no le gustaba regar mucho la voz para que no se le acercaran por hipocresía; odiaba el interés humano, por eso tampoco se acercaba mucho a los demás para que no le dijeran que necesitaba algo de alguien.
Edgar era de los que prefería consumir misterios; coleccionar objetos extraños, leer libros de personajes maquiavélicos o visitar lugares tenebrosos; todo esto lo hacía con la confianza de hallar algo que le despertara la desconfianza en la humanidad.
Nunca se preguntó por tan extraña inclinación; empezó a alimentarse de ella que con el tiempo le fue normal al resto de la familia ver en él, a la oveja rara de la familia. Todo hubiera seguido como estaba si Edgar no hubiese intentado, por primera vez en su vida, ser como el resto de su familia.
Todos lo hacían lejos, pero esa noche decidió aparecerse frente a los suyos, sorprenderlos con su presencia y decirles que estaba dispuesto a acercarse más a ellos, mas cuando vio a su padre en lo que realmente era, una armazón de huesos blanquecinos, entendió que él era normal, que los extraños eran ellos, que había estado viviendo con un montón de huesos andantes que usaban máscaras humanas para esconderse de la multitud.
Como los había descubierto, ninguno quiso ponerse la piel humana, esperaron a que Edgar les dijera algo, pero este se perdió en la oscuridad como una sombra tragada por la misma noche.
Cuando el amanecer descorrió sus cortinas, Edgar estaba muerto, había decidido acabar con su vida para hacerse como los suyos, esqueletos andantes; para acercarse a ellos y buscar el afecto que su alma siempre necesitó. Se había rebanado el pescuezo, en vano, porque los suyos no estaban muertos, eran así desde que algo los creó y habían cambiado para Edgar; el único que le había nacido carne en los huesos, el primero que empezó a tener la apariencia humana, con ese deseo de querer estar solo y con ese miedo de ser amado.
Human masks
The family had grown as those who wish to leave heirs from generation to generation are obliged to grow. Edgar was one of the family, but he didn't like to spread the word too much so they wouldn't approach him out of hypocrisy; he hated human interest, that's why he didn't get too close to others so they wouldn't tell him he needed something from someone.
Edgar was one of those who preferred to consume mysteries; collecting strange objects, reading books about Machiavellian characters or visiting tenebrous places; he did all this with the confidence of finding something that would awaken his distrust in humanity.
He never wondered why he had such a strange inclination; he began to feed off of it that in time it became normal for the rest of the family to see in him, the rare sheep of the family and everything would have continued as it was if Edgar had not tried, for the first time in his life, to be like the rest of his family.
They all did it far away, but that night he decided to appear in front of his own, to surprise them with his presence and tell them that he was willing to approach them, but when he saw his father in what he really was, a frame of whitish bones, he understood that it was normal, that the strangers were them, that he had been living with a group of walking bones that used human masks to hide from the crowd.
Upon discovering them, none of them wanted to put on the human skin, they waited for Edgar to tell them something, but he was lost in the darkness like a shadow swallowed by the night itself.
When dawn opened its curtains, Edgar was dead, he had decided to end his life to become like his own, walking skeletons; to get closer to them and seek the affection his soul always needed. He had sliced his own throat, in vain, because his own were not dead, they were like that since something created them and they had changed for Edgar; the only one who had born flesh on his bones, the first one who began to have a human appearance, with that desire of wanting to be alone and with that fear of being loved.
