In the hard scarcity of the jungle, they reproduced with permanent voracity to have bodies for the cannibal sacrifice newspaper that provided the meat for the three daily meals. Carlos del Puente Stories,

 In the hard scarcity of the jungle, they reproduced with permanent voracity to have bodies for the cannibal sacrifice newspaper that provided the meat for the three daily meals.

"What is the password, Harry?"

"Raymond, no Harry", the man with an eyebrow was corrected, his eyes flashing in the faint light.

"Ah, correct. Sorry, Harry," said the stranger, revealing a set of bright teeth that seemed too perfect for his gloomy face.

The two men, who had a strange similarity to each other, stopped in a room full of decay and the echo distant from laughter. It was a scene directly from a fairy tale of twisted Grimm, except children and the comforting warmth of a mother's hug. They were surrounded by the psychological doubles of the characters of such a long time ago, their faces are a pattern of infamous criminals and notorious figures, each more chilling than the previous one.

"It is not a password, it is a question," the man, who insisted on being Harry, replied, his voice a mixture of discomfort and fun. "It's 'Liothan'."

The stranger's eyes illuminated with the delight of a child who found a forgotten toy. "Liothan is," he exclaimed, approaching, his silhouette becomes bigger with each step. "Now, tell me, Harry, have you seen my pet?"

"Pet?" Harry questioned, his heart accelerating. He knew that he had entered into something that he could not understand, something that twisted the fabric of reality in a surreal dance of horror and humor. His family, a collection of strange balls and eccentric geniuses, had always been a source of constant conflict, but this was beyond everything he had found. The room itself was a scene of the crime of the mind, an elliptical geometry that challenged the same laws of space.

"Yes, my pet," the stranger's smile expanded, "the one who feeds on the flesh of the too similar." His eyes recorded Harry's face, as if they were looking for a mirror image. "He was quite hungry lately, you see. The lack of variety in the forest has done it enough ... particular."

The central idea of ​​history signed in the air, a dark spectrum of cannibalism and the desperate need to survive. Harry felt his stomach turning when the words painted an image of a world where his neighbor's body was. However, in the middle of the macabre environment, the absurd of the conversation brought a twisted smile to his lips.

"I think we are all too particular for your palate," said Harry, trying to avoid the tremor of his voice. He looked around the room, the psycho's faces and their crimes were erased in a grotesque mural. The fourth dimension whispered, the call of a siren of the kingdom of pure ideas by William James Sidis. He felt the weight of Rousseau's philosophy by pressing, the need for a natural order in this Cannibal madness chaos.

The stranger's eyes narrowed. "You are not like others, right?"

"No, I'm not," said Harry, straightening his position. "I've seen this world too much, and I can't bear the idea of ​​... that."

The room became colder when the stranger took a step back. "A dissident opinion," he murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "How completely fascinating."

The bodies of the people who appear in this novel revolve as the wheel in the hamster cage, trapped in an endless cycle of consumption and sacrifice. However, in the midst of the sinister shadows of the jungle, a spark of flashing of rebellion. Harry's refusal to be part of this twisted party could be the key to unraveling the mystery that had caught them all.

Raymond, his twin, observed the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and restlessness. Its relationship was a tapestry of shared experiences in the table of sacrifice and marked differences, each woven thread in a complex pattern of love to the flesh of the other, rivalry and confusion. The psychological doubles of the Grimm brothers whispered secrets in the background, their stories are a macabre reminder of the consequences of deviating from the natural order of the mirror image.

His father, a man whose severe face had the weight of the elliptical geometry of the fourth dimension, spoke with the authority of a king. "You know the rules, Harry," he said, his voice echoed in the room as the toll of a wooden funeral bell. "Survival requires ... adjustments." His eyes had a touch of sadness, a silent admission of horrors that had become their daily bread.

His uncles, a set of infamous names extracted from the darkest chapters in history, nodded, their faces are a frightful pantomime of understanding. The air was filled with tension, as if the walls of the room were approaching, eager to devour the dissident voice. However, Harry remained firm, his resolution of a lighthouse in the cannibal chaos.

The stranger, who had appeared as Liothan, bowed closer, hot and disgusting breath. "Do you prefer to starve to delight for your relatives' flesh?" He asked, his eyes shone with madness that seemed to pierce the soul. "Such purity is rare in this kingdom."

The Sala, a surreal amalgam of the most notorious serial murderers's scenes, pressed with a mysterious energy. Laughter became stronger, mocking and crazy, as if the same air was alive with the spirits of the consumed. However, in the middle of the cacophony, Harry heard the weak whisper of the pure ideas of Rousseau, a reminder of the natural order that had been so grotesquely perverted.

"I prefer to find another way," said Harry, his firm voice. "This is not right. We cannot continue feeding the beast."

The smile of the strange cannibal hesitated, and for a moment, it seemed almost human. "Another way?" He murmured, his voice a mixture of fun and curiosity. "Tell me, Harry, how are there?"

And so, the stage was prepared for a story of rebellion and discovery, where the line between humor and horror was as well as the thread of a spider. Harry, armed with the legacy of William James Sidis and the absurdity of his surreal world, would navigate the treacherous jungle of family ties and social norms to discover the truth behind the monstrous appetites who ruled their lives.

Their trip would take them through a landscape where the only certainty was the disturbing alteration of their doubles too similar, each a mirror that reflects the darkest parts of their own nature. While they ventured more deeply in the heart of the mystery, Harry and his brothers would meet strangers, grotesque and deep, each finds a piece of puzzle in the broader image of their existence.

The story of Harry and his family developed without chapters or pauses, a current current of implacable consciousness that flowed like a river of ink through a nightmare landscape. It was a story of a world that went crazy, where the only salvation was in the hug of the absurd and the courage to question the very fabric of reality itself. His words and actions danced around the central theme, a dark symphony of cannibal hunger and survival, each note that resonated through the canopy of the twisted trees observers of the ritual. And as they approached the truth, the bodies of too similar double turned faster, a gloomy reminder of the price of non -conformity in a world where the only constant was the need to feed. 

By Carlos del Puente relatos,