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Years ago, whose reasons and conditions were never announced, two entities began to appear on the shores of the sea, the territory of a small town nicknamed "Pink Bahía". My dad, grandparents and friends told me their own interpretations of them, one not so different from the other.
"They were two spirits, one that unleashed chaos and another that protected peace. United in harmony, in sync with a changing sea and a persevering soil" My father tells.
"They are probably a peaceful angel and a restless demon, so you can get an idea of their possible rivalry" Theorizes my friend Knives.
"At the end of the day, no one should be on the beach. The creatures have already taken that place as theirs and we cannot take it away from them until their mission in our town is complete." The most believers professed outside the churches.
I'm about to turn 16, and my gift will be to see the much-acclaimed "Hades and Persephone of Pink Bahía" moonbathing. They always talk disparagingly about those bodies and attitudes during the day, but they have never stopped to see them at night. Would they give me a Game Boy as a reward for my discovery? The possibilities are endless.
It's 3 o'clock and the moon was at its highest peak, with no clouds to obstruct it and stars jealous of its magnificent shine. Stepping out my window, carrying a backpack on my journey, I contemplated the solitude of the streets. There was not a single person hanging around and the street lights were off, the illumination of the lighthouse for kilometers was what made me able to see my way to the pink beach.
Minutes passed when I reached the entrance to that place, marveling at the sheer number of waves crashing against the ground. Someday I'll go surfing them.
I wasn't in a hurry; I went downstairs and looked around for the spirits' arrival. Legends said they would appear at that time of night. A bit cliché, yes. But I came to verify these "facts."
There was a meeting point between them: a huge rock, located right where a decomposing whale had once been. My dad tells me I was a baby when they exploded it. It must have smelled horrible.
Fortunately, there was a fence where I could hide, very close to that gigantic rock on the seashore. I couldn't contain the excitement of seeing them; it was a feeling similar to waiting for your favorite band to take the stage. Or so I could describe it that way.
After a long silence, I was about to throw in the towel on this silly plan when quick footsteps appeared. I grabbed my legs and held them against my chest, wanting to avoid any accidents for both myself and the specter... or whatever.
The high speed didn't give a clear picture of that "roadrunner." I could only recognize a purple cape fluttering alongside it. It was fun to think our demons could have such distinctive features. In a moment, he stopped right in front of me. The amusement turned to terror in a blink of an eye. I covered my mouth, and my lungs slowed down, hoping not to be seen by him in the shadows.
His head began to spin in all directions, like a child avoiding detection in an innocent crime. He ran back to Miss Paula's flowers, plucking three or five violets from her beautiful planting. When she said, "The demon is plucking my flowers," it wasn't an extravagant lie; she was right.
At one point, he floated calmly toward the other end of the beach. As I lost sight of him, he exhaled heavily, covering me with his forearm and waiting to finish catching my breath.
A bright light appeared right next to me, obstructed by the fence where I was hiding. I was perplexed. When did it happen? I looked at my wristwatch, checking the time. It was still three o'clock, and that made me wonder where it was coming from. The moment the brightness went down, my eyes looked out and my words could not describe such majesty.
An angel, that angel was real too! He looked beautiful. He had sky-blue hair, fading into an indigo like the ocean. His skin, as pale as the moon, reflected the stars, while his slender, almost androgynous body sat on that large rock. His clothing ignored any expectation of a white soul by wearing a striped tank top, half-baked jeans, and a red scarf adorning his neck.
I was mesmerized; I could finally see their existence in the flesh! I was about to take out a camera to record the memory until I heard the same walk again, remaining motionless like a statue.
My pupils focused on the shadow forming behind that angel, expanding a darkness that hid his brilliance. Terror began to spread through my system as I watched the blue-haired man, unaware of the danger lurking, wanting to do something to, perhaps, stop a tragedy.
Clawed arms extended on either side of him; the suspense was so great that I closed my eyes when those same limbs came down against the whitish spirit. I trembled, and it lasted a moment until I felt that dim light against my face again, opening one of my eyes.
God... Was he... Kissing him?
Finally, that caped monster turned out to be a green man with a Beetle-inspired hairstyle, a cream-colored turtleneck sweater, and grayish pants. And as much as I might have expected something horrible from him, I was only surprised to find himself affectionately kissing the cheeks of the boy with the red bandana.
He smiled at this act.
Little by little, I could see their faces. That blue-haired angel had no eyes; they were a funereal black, capable of terrifying even the most corrupt soul. And the demon possessed an interesting heterochromia: one black eye and one red eye bordering on fuchsia. Seeing them in that act was... Wow...
As soon as the wind blew, a crown of flowers landed on the head of that little sailor god. That's what flowers were for! My heart felt a pang; it was too much for me.
Him creamy lips crashed against that mischievous being with speed and tenderness. I could tell he had a silly, embarrassed expression on his face, pleased with the gratitude. I chuckled.
The green-skinned man let himself fall into the other's lap, letting his gentle hands caress his dark hair and his sturdy chest. Oww, how must that affection feel?
A heavenly voice accompanied by the sound of the waves and the silence of the streets, harmoniously expelled from the mouth of that angel. Siren song and a sailor's humming, the impact of a bullet and the softness of a feather: that barely describes my feeling at that moment.
I began to hesitate a little about taking a picture; I didn't want to scare them in that profound moment, much less want them to pull me by the ankles when I went to sleep. I looked at my camera and then at them, deciding to carefully put it back in my backpack. I watched them again until their souls vanished melancholy at the first ray of morning...
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When I grew up, after that experience, I discovered that they weren't exactly religious entities, but rather human.
They were Stuart, a young man with a strange biological condition due to his blue hair, and Murdoc, an English pirate with a bad reputation for being a high-ranking thief and troublemaker. Investigating their biographies, I began to realize something that would pain my younger self.
Murdoc, that demon, had given his soul to save his loved one from an attack. He was wounded, his enemies broke his eyes and he died in his arms. Breathing with difficulty, he was drowning on the shore while being tightly hugged by that dark-haired pirate.
At his funeral, he was never able to assimilate the loss of his beloved Stuart, his greatest treasure. The revenge and the need to see him again was so great that he did not mind giving his soul to continue seeing him, even in the afterlife. Almost breaking the hand of one of the Five Horsemen of the Apocalypse, all for revenge on those who hurt his lover.
His rage led him to be called "Faust," the man who made a deal with a Devil, ending the lives of all those responsible for Pot's loss, until, of course, he was arrested by the authorities and his head cut off. He was angry; his deal was about to end when he was discovered, and his neck would be put on the guillotine. His head would roll, as would his hopes.
But against all odds, on one of those lonely nights, he saw the blue-haired man sitting on a rock watching the sea. He shouted his name and his eyes filled with tears as he hugged him after years lost in that limbo, apologizing for the things he did and didn't do with the boy by his side. Kneeling before him and praying that this moment will never end. However, Murdoc had to follow his part of the plan until the beginning of 2016, where his sentence with the devil finally ended; free to go to paradise in the company of his beloved. But they had already gone to the trouble of making theirs on the pastel pink sand.
Every night, I go to the highest and furthest hill from the seashore, using my binoculars to watch them dance. Contemplating from a distance, that happiness of having each other for eternity, creating such beautiful moments until turning the place where they were buried into their own paradise, where they could kiss, hug and melt their astral bodies into a mirage at the first ray of the sun.
And all that, they told me.