Once upon a time, there was such a curious little boy in San Juan Lane that he had to know what ghosts dreamt. Indeed, my dear friends: ghosts, those which can pass through the walls. These latest news were heard with intent by certain creatures who haunted Ibarra nightly, without others knowing who they were but certain of their otherworldliness.

– Oh, Jesus! Carlos would say, I hope they will not meet my eye the same night I must water my patch of land. However, this 11-year old boy was so inquisitive that he found out that lost souls wander around midnight to frighten the watchmen. These beings, the elders would say, roam about since their greed had prompted them to bury wonderful treasures, and they could only reach Heaven after releasing them. Such treasures were held in small trunks made out of precious wood that could resist excessive humidity. Greed was also kept inside these trunks.

Carlos, as you could suppose, was dying to meet one of these lost souls, even from afar. So, he pleaded with his best friend, Juan José, to accompany him to his patch in the Quiche Alley, as the place was known back in the XIXth century. It now belongs to Colón and Maldonado streets, but just imagine how tremulous the experience must have been without artificial lighting.

You are out of your mind!, replied Juan José, who reminded him they both knew about the Tormented Trunk (Caja Ronca), which is how this infernal procession was called. He was not fond of ghosts. Please, be a friend, pleaded Carlos with fiery eyes, try to convince his friend that these were only lies to scare little children. He was careful not to mention he was also terrified of venturing himself into the night and, worse, sleeping in his old cabin.

Carlos’ stubbornness won his friend’s acquiescence, with the condition of sharing with him a large jar of orange tea and two maize paddies (arepas), baked in a traditional oven. Hunger was stronger than fear, so the two boys left the San Felipe neighborhood, full of prodigal figs and perfumed geranium.
Before the night fell, they reached a field where they found in the middle of all an higo tree, with its branches resembling crooked fingers and its trunk a hand emerging from the guts of the earth. The youngsters checked the water channels, they built a fire and waited for time to go by, but pretending not to think about the Tormented Trunk.

Drawn by the magical blazes, our friends dozed off quickly, while the cold wind penetrated the hedges, lit at this hour by the Moon. But, a quiet noise seemed to cross the Quiche Alley door. The boys arose and the sound was stronger yet. Before asking themselves if they should come close to the door, their ears were trying to find the great drum that sounded in the middle of the night.

At Carlos’s insistence, because he would not want to miss a detail, they came close to the crack to watch it all: The tongues of fire seem to caress the figure, and there was no other explanation: it was a Devil drawn from Hell. His eyes shone like burning coal, his sharp horns, slashing the lights burned by the damned procession.
This Lord of Darkness walked with pride and from his eyes, it seemed, blazing orders were given to his loyal followers. From his right hand, large and pointy nails, which blended with his scarlet hood, came out. These charmers of Fear seemed to announce the coming of terrible times.

At the entrance, were the two curious boys petrified like statues. The door creaked right then. To one side, there was a purging soul with its eyes hid by a hood. He handed them to huge and still smoky candles and vanished as he had first appeared.

The hooded figures formed two rows and their garments touched the floor, although they seemed to float. A deadly light hit the hands that appeared bony, torn and green as the book shelves inside.
Two sinister characters that played the flute and the drum accompanied the large procession. At the end, a chariot enveloped by flames closed this spectral following.

Juan José thought this carriage kept the terrifying Tormented Trunk, which was nothing more than a trunk full of coins lost in time and space, which -from other labyrinths- searched for the hands that would liberate it from its previous owner. They did not know when they had peed in their pants, least when they had fallen asleep or when their trembling legs had led them to their whitewashed houses.

In San Juan Calle, the first devotees who left home for the four o’clock mass, found them throwing foam from their mouths, and holding the funeral candles with their lives. When they went to fetch them, they saw them holding human bones in their hands.

Thus, by word of mouth, these events where shared so, that the boys were the guests of honor in those nights in which the fantastic procession of the Tormented Trunk was acquainted, to the delight of the new, who were still curious of what ghosts dreamt about. Sometimes, however, one had to return home by midnight, when a persistent drum was heard from a distance.