Santiago Martinez Concha

The Mill's Ghost Santiago Martinez Concha

The fragments that make up this story are part of my memories and those of my mother`s. Her name was Eleanor. Perhaps she didn't want to reveal many things to me as a child in order to avoid impressing me with matters far beyond my understanding or because she thought that I'd imprudently leaked the story and bother her intimate friends, the owners of the farm called the Mill where everything happened. Mysterious things which she thought it'd better to forget. I was only 9 years old at the time. During her life she asked me not to reveal any of this. Many of the events described here, my mother wrote them down in a notebook with dry red leather covers cracked over the years and others belong to the inventory of her close friend Solange, which she wrote in another similar notebook which still exists in the power of her family. My childhood memories are intertwined forming a giant web which still imprisons me without being able to forget them. Since then I've been secretly and fearfully waiting for the spider architect of my memories, to descend from a dark corner and devour me. I've waited years for it to appear but so far, I'm still here, not to say my life's been easy or without incredible dangers, but a mysterious force seems to protect me all the time. Today both women and their husbands are dead, but I believe this story deserves to be told without detriment to those who were their main protagonists. Whatever we experienced was imprinted in my memory and marked me ever since.