On this evening of the Lunisolar festival the sky was painted purple. The moon had already begun to rise, and the sound of crickets became much more audible. Yara, Silvia and three village children sat on the porch, illuminated by a single candle standing in the middle of the table. A good time for a spooky story, isn’t it?
“Okay little ones, is everyone ready for a story?” Yara asked with obvious excitement in her voice, and after everyone replied with a “Yes!” and went quie...
