Durval couldn’t fully pay attention to Heitor’s story. All because the cockatoo, perched on the arm of the sofa, kept making that unpleasant metallic gargling noise that sounded more like a crow cawing. But the bird was so white it almost shone. White like the many cats Melinda had around the house. Durval wondered if the felines would get along with the cockatoo and if there was any reason for Heitor and Melinda to only have white animals. But he wouldn’t ask Heitor that. Let the man continue with his account. He tried to keep as far away from the bird as possible, but kept the cane within reach.
— Sacratissimum Cor Iesu — said Heitor.
Durval didn’t know Latin, but it was certainly something religious that Heitor was talking about.
— The Most Sacred Heart of Jesus — continued Heitor. — It is one of the greatest devotions in Roman Catholicism. You’ve surely seen some painting or sculpture in the church.
— Yes, I know — nodded Durval.
— The heart of Jesus was pierced on the cross, but after the resurrection, it became the representation of His love for humanity. It’s a flaming heart, literally on fire, shining with the light of God, pierced by the spear and surrounded by a crown of thorns. The fire symbolizes the transformative power that divine love has over sinners.
— Dolores and I have an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and one of Mary too, in our bedroom.
— It’s a beautiful Christian symbol, Durval. And it comes to my mind whenever I remember what I felt that day in the presence of the monster. My heart was on fire. In fact, my whole body was ablaze. It was as if the fire was coming from the beast’s eyes, penetrating my heart and radiating throughout my body. They say hell is made of fire and that demons carry part of those flames within them when they visit Earth. It was as if he had hell with him and forced me to plunge into that lake of lava. It was slow at first, almost superficial, but then that abominable feeling deepened and completely took over my soul.
— There was a force that wasn’t mine keeping my body upright, right in front of him; otherwise, I would have fainted or even died. But something inside me said that the monster didn’t want to kill me. He wanted to dominate my will, my thoughts. I felt his presence deepening in my mind and touching, profaning, my inner self. At that moment, the monster came to know my innermost desires, those that I didn’t even know were there. The small covetousness, the innocent daydreams that sneak inside us, escaping from consciousness, the impulses, fantasies, all the sins and guilt, from the small to the great, the offenses, from the real to the merely dreamed, he explored my wickedness. Vulnerable is he who has his sins known. The damage to the body is nothing; he had destroyed my inner fortresses, there was no longer any bastion or citadel to guard me, no wall whatsoever. He possessed my soul.
Episode XLVI continues in the next edition.
JOSÉ GASPAR
Filmmaker and writer
www.historiasdooutromundo.com