The Advent

**Part 1:**This work is based on real events that continue to unfold. The story is complete but is still in the creative process, so it will undergo some changes as its ultimate goal is to become a book or audiovisual material. Your comments are a valuable creative contribution.Not many years ago, in a suburb near a well-known city, a young couple moved into their new home. The couple, in a relationship of several months, had finally managed to acquire a more welcoming home than the apartments they were accustomed to. They were happy and excited because the property was now in their names, fulfilling the dream home they had always envisioned. However, not everything was smooth between them. Alma hoped that the conflicts with her partner would finally cease. She was fragile and submissive, in contrast to her husband's strong and authoritative character. She hoped to change things, to rekindle the love that had initially ignited their passion.Anton, with a slightly elevated tone, exclaimed, "Damn it, Alma! Finally, we have a new house. I hope your nonsense stops." Alma retorted, "You're starting already. You're starting." Anton replied, "Okay, okay, my love, don't take it the wrong way. I was just saying, no more." They shared a love for antiques, and the house they acquired was one of the oldest in the town and city. Surprisingly, the decor, the furniture, everything seemed frozen in time, specifically from over a century ago. They had no intentions of selling or changing anything.Luck was on their side. The elderly lady who had lived there passed away almost half a year ago, and her children hadn't touched anything. Supposedly, they put the house up for sale shortly afterward, advertising it as an "old house in excellent condition," and indeed it was. They knew nothing more. The procedures and payment were handled by a property broker. They never met the sellers, not even learning their names or the circumstances of the old lady's death. It remained a complete mystery, leaving them without any concerns.Anton, holding a wooden figure, excitedly said to Alma, "Hey, we hit the jackpot. This house has a treasure. How did they not realize this house was worth so much, and they sold it to us so cheap? Well, not considering the treasure it had inside." Alma replied, "This doesn't feel right. There's something strange here." Anton laughed and said, "Of course, the house is cursed. Ghosts are going to bother us every day." She responded, "But either way, they would have sold us the empty house." While placing the figure on the table, he said, "So it's not the house; it's the things. The things are cursed. So we have a bunch of Annabelles. Who's going to want these little cursed jewels?" She said dramatically, "Look, for now, let's not sell anything. We need to study these antiques." He said, "You're crazy. Let's sell them quickly. Didn't I tell you the things are cursed?" And she replied, "Just stop bothering, please."Anton took one of the books from the desk, put the book cover in front of his face, and mimicked the words of a learned person. He said, trying to imitate the words of an erudite person, "Miss Alma Mackneel, what a pleasure to find you in these corners of the world. Tell me, what are you doing here?" These were some of the things that had endeared her to him—her joy and her jokes. But she disliked it when he joked after an argument. She played along: "Mr. Mauro Biglino," she replied, following his lead. She was very intelligent and cultured, so she knew perfectly well who the author of the book was. "Mr. Mauro knows; I've read his book, and I would like him to remind me of his theses proposed in his books." Anton had no idea who Biglino was, trying to answer but stumbling over his words, failing to continue the conversation. She took the book from his face and responded, "He talks about how God doesn't have the characteristics of a god and behaves like a human. He questions why God acts without wisdom and gets angry, destroying things. The story of Noah's Ark, Sodom, among many other things." Anton replied, "Interesting, indeed. I hadn't heard that perspective before." She said, "Well, lucky you, you have the book, and it's free. Read it." He replied, "Maybe, but it could shatter everything I believe in." She said confidently, "It probably will."They settled in and embraced the life any typical couple leads. After a few months, Alma was the first to sense a dark atmosphere in their new home. As evening fell, she noticed that the house filled with moving shadows, creating a gloomy and sinister atmosphere. The young woman felt an intense cold, not in a specific place; one day it was a hallway, the next a room, or the living room. The cold seemed to move around the house.Alma began to experience strange situations, starting with the cold, the icy breeze entering their home. One night, returning from work, she opened the door and realized it was darker than usual because one of the windows let the streetlight in. She looked at the window. Something black covered it. She began to walk slowly toward it to see what was blocking the light. As she got closer, she realized the window was covered by a swarm of large black flies. They were peculiar; she had never seen insects like that before. Standing in a perfect formation, covering every corner of the glass without landing on the window frame. It was a perfect square of flies. Suddenly, she felt something behind her. She turned her head and saw a shadow darting and hiding behind the hallway. She felt a cold sensation on her back. She turned her head, and the insects turned into a ball of flies, forming a sphere that undulated, taking strange shapes until it turned into a face with a mouth wide open, ready to devour. The young woman turned pale, unable to move. She had a scream stuck in her throat. Suddenly, she felt all the flies crashing against her face, as if they had passed through her. After that, she plunged into darkness.Alma woke up in a dungeon, completely naked, and the cold made her tremble uncontrollably. At the door of the dungeon stood an old woman emanating an ancient, deep, and inescapable terror. Beside her was a black dog, like a guardian of the gates of hell, a one-headed Cerberus. The old woman said, "The sons of your savior await your sacrifice." The dog began to approach slowly, showing its sharp teeth longer than usual. Alma was no longer trembling from the cold, but from the fear that the dog would pounce on her at any moment. She crouched in a corner with walls as cold as ice, in an absurd attempt at protection. The dog lunged ferociously at her and began to bite her. Alma moved like a puppet on the floor due to the dog's movements, seeking to tear the flesh. The attack was fierce; she was covered in blood. The dog stopped for a moment, panting, and the old woman positioned her for the animal to possess her. It was her characteristic form of indescribable torture. The beast, satisfied, licked the blood of its victims while Alma, with her last strength, tried to stand up. However, the dog lunged at her neck as if all that had happened before was mere torture, and now it would put an end to everything. Her scream was muffled between the jaws of the dog and the blood. Suddenly, her scream burst, and she found herself in her room, naked, trembling with horror.Anton, Alma's partner, held his head in his hands, inadvertently messing up his hair while seeking a solution to his problem. He couldn't believe what his wife was telling him. It might be a lie, he thought, but she had proven to be perfectly sane since he knew her, far from any paranormal or terrifying themes. In fact, she hadn't even agreed to watch a horror movie when they were still young and he invited her to the cinema. Alma watched with concern, never telling him about the nightmares haunting her. She stood up and ended the conversation, "Enough. This must be nothing more than stress. Let's forget about it and continue with our lives." She embraced her partner and kissed him with love.One night, Anton got up with the intention of grabbing a bite to eat. He left the room, still half-asleep, immersed in the darkness. He had barely turned his back on the room when he noticed a shadow following him. Unaware of anything, the shadow accompanied him to the fridge. Anton turned around, but there was nothing there. He continued searching for something to eat blindly, until he found what he needed. Upon returning to his room, a horrifying scream erupted from the putrefied figure that materialized before him, surrounded by worms and exhaling the stench of rotten flesh. The odor penetrated his core, twisting it with fury. The urge to vomit seized him, but fear paralyzed his body. Anton felt he was crossing the threshold of life, peering into the gates of hell. Terrified like never before, his life hung by a thread. The memories of a whole life didn't flash before his eyes; his mind froze as he gazed at the horrors few living men have experienced. He felt his soul ripped from his body in one strong, swift pull. And so, darkness enveloped him.Alma, who had quit smoking and drinking for years, had returned to her vices, puffing one cigarette after another. She sat in her room, looking around as if expecting something important to happen. A few seconds were dedicated to looking at her husband lying in bed, pale, almost bluish. Anyone who saw him, touched him, examined him would have deemed him dead, but he was alive—or nearly alive, or whatever one calls that. Supposedly, he seemed to be in a coma, but it was neither that nor this. Doctors left everything unclear.In the darkest corner of the hospital, not only did physical shadow reign, but a supernatural darkness chilled the soul. Transferred to the basement, close to the morgue, that place seemed to emerge more from the paranormal than the cold. Few people ventured near, and nurses trembled at the room and the patient. His mind slid between two personalities—one malevolent, the other tormented. A voice, deep as an abyss, whispered unsettling words as if emanating from the depths of despair.Something more than an illness dwelled in that space. Nurses were attacked, resignations occurred, and doctors were affected; even the bodies of the deceased moved unnaturally, turning heads and glances that instilled terror. Through the air, the patient's laughter echoed, as if he, from the other side, wove a macabre game with the doctors.A cursed witness, a nurse, revealed the patient's heart-wrenching plea: "I don't want to die in this hell; I'll be trapped forever." Seeking answers, he pleaded for the book in the fireplace."Alma, the fireplace, the fireplace!" he repeated, echoing the unsettling fate that awaited in the dark hospital room and their home.Alma extended her arm through the fireplace; nothing mattered to her anymore—the black society, the soot covering her. She groped the corners of the fireplace and felt a chill thinking about cobwebs. But what spider would live in a fireplace that had already been set on fire several times? So she thought no spider could be there. She also thought, "Absurd that I'm looking for something here; it would have burned, I don't know."She had searched everywhere for something that would help decipher everything. As her arm emerged, it almost twisted. With her fingertips, she touched something; almost reaching it, she gave it a little nudge.Suddenly, she felt a loud noise, like a heavy body falling to the ground. She turned around in fear, and there, in front of her, was a black cat showing its teeth, growling gutturally. A black cat. She didn't have cats, and she couldn't explain how the black cat got there. It was there with its teeth, and its tongue moved strangely, elongating. She felt the floor to grab anything to throw at the cat and make it leave. She touched the fireplace and turned her head to see what had fallen; it was the soot-impregnated fabric bag. She took it, looked toward the cat, which had disappeared; she thought she was hallucinating, going crazy.The black bag, dirty with soot, but she didn't care. She looked for a way to shake the bag to remove the soot and clean it. She removed the tie from the bag and let it slide onto the table. The object inside she took in her hands.A shock, a disgust made her drop the book she was holding. She immediately realized: the drawing was strange—the skull of a dog surrounded by signs and kabbalistic symbols. The title of the book was: "The Order of the Circle of the Blood of the Dog." But what had caused her disgust wasn't crafted by the hand of an artisan or a machine; it was a tattoo, the tattoo of a person who was once alive and now embraced a cursed book. It disgusted her to touch it, as if touching a dead body, but she had to be brave. The only way to reveal how to heal her partner.She began to flip through the pages, trying to touch the book as little as possible. The pages she could see were written in Latin; others, in a dead language with occult symbols and drawings of occult ceremonies. On one page, she entered where there was a figure of an old man's face with a hood like a wise monk. She had glanced at the book, and everything was written in Latin or languages she didn't understand with strange symbols. But on the page she was on, something was written below, something that chilled her blood: "Alma, go down to the basement. Come and embrace your Savior." She closed the book immediately; she was terrified, unsure how she would be able to deal with that book to unravel its mysteries.