The Wanderers of the Grimm brothers and their enigmatic trips

In the quiet city of Himmelsheim, where the cobbled streets were full of picturesque houses that had seen better days, there was a peculiar man called Gustav. Gustav was known for his stories and wild imagination, often giving away people of the town with stories of their adventures in distant lands that still did not exist in any known map. His eyes, a penetrating tone of blue, sparkled with pranks while talking, and his beard, which extended almost to the waist, was as rebellious as the yarns he turned. Despite the whispers behind them, Gustav's stories had a way of captivating the hearts of adults, who saw a hero in him instead of the Oddball village.

Gustav's favorite place was the Town Plaza called Pueblo, where he sat in a wooden bench painted in the air, carved with the initials of generations of lovers and that they would share their exploits. He spoke of imaginary treasures hidden in the deep thing of the earth, of mythical creatures that wandered through the forests and a world beyond the horizon where dreams were born and where they were buried deceased nightmares. His voice was a soft direction, a comforting sound that filled the town of the town with amazement, drowning the distant sounds of the blacksmith's hammer and the bustle of the market. The adults gathered around them, with very open eyes with childish emotion, eager to escape the monotony of their lives of adult forced, even if only for a brief moment.

One day, when Gustav told his encounter with the legendary Phoenix leaving the ashes, a stranger approached. The man was tall and Larirucho, with a dusty hat on his eyes, throwing shadows on a face engraved with lines that spoke of a hard life. He wore a leather wallet on a shoulder, which dyed with an unusual rhythm as he moved, and his boots were used for years of travel for his own dreams. The people of the town watched him with a mixture of curiosity and caution, since the strangers were few and distant in Himmelsheim.

The adults, mutated by the newcomer, continued attentive to every word of Gustav. But as the stranger approached, Gustav's story became calmer, his eyes moved to man from under his hairy eyebrows. The stranger's gaze was intense, and Gustav felt as if he was studied, as if the man could see the very tissue of his soul. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dried up and clarified it before continuing his story. However, the magic of his words seemed to have vanished against the presence of the newcomer. The adults, feeling the change of energy, were worried.

The stranger finally spoke, his voice contrasts serious with Gustav's rich narration tones. "Your stories," he said, "remind me of my own trips. I have seen wonders that would make even your wildest imaginations look like innocent swans." Gustav felt a defense stab in his chest, but the tone of the man was not challenged; He was almost melancholic, as if he were talking about a lost friend a long time ago. "Maybe," Gustav began with caution, "Would you like to share one of these wonders with us?"

The man paused, considering, before nodding. He pulled a small wooden flute from his wallet and began touching a disturbing melody. The notes danced in the air, weaving their own history, and the adults bowed closer, fascinated by sound. Gustav felt that his own spirit of narration stirred within him, anxious to match the ability of the stranger. The melody became stronger, and with it, the images in the minds of adults became more vivid. They saw vast deserts, imposing mountains and the brightness of gold in the burning hug of the sun. They heard the whispers of the ancient forests and the roar of the distant oceans.

When the music reached its crescendo, a burst of wind swept the square, carrying with them the aroma of exotic spices and the distant calls of birds unknown with three eyes. The adults gasped when the air became thick with a bright light, and for a moment, it seemed that the very tissue of reality was falling apart as fine dust out of their eyes. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the music stopped and the light dissipated. The stranger looked at Gustav, a knowledge smile playing on his lips. "Those are the lands of the vagrants of Grimm," he said. "Where I come from."

Gustav's curiosity woke up, asked: "What are Grimm's vagabundos?" The stranger leaned down, his eyes shone. "Ah," he said, "that, my friend, is a story for another day to do." With that, he bowed his hat and disappeared in the multitude of the market, leaving Gustav and adults to reflect on the mysteries he had brought with him. The whispers of the townspeople became stronger, but Gustav's heart accelerated with emotion. He had always known that there was more in the world than the narrow streets of Himmelsheim, and now he had evidence. He promised to obtain more information about this enigmatic figure and the wonders of Grimm's wanderers.

By Carlos del Puente relatos