Excerpt:
In October 2023, one of the most chilling clinical incidents in Venezuelan medical history unfolded.
At five in the morning, on the eve of Halloween, twenty men and women arrived at the Rómulo Marcano Hospital Complex in Ciudad Zamora, suffering from a grotesque and previously unknown condition: their bodies had become fused together at the genitals after a lavish ceremony of obscene orgies and rites devoted to the Adversary. They collapsed the emergency ward and required surgical intervention to separate what appeared to be a single mass of melted flesh.
One of them—a disheveled acolyte who asked that his name be omitted from the report—shouted that it had all been the fault of “that damned rickety witch.” He told me this while doctors sedated his partner, still fused to him in a canine-like lock of penetration. According to him, she had dragged them into a satanic ceremony involving forbidden conjurations… and they had become playthings of Pazuzu.
The complaints against this unknown young woman began to fill an alarming criminal dossier that horrified the authorities presiding over the case. Her subsequent disappearance from the city triggered collective panic among the mutilated victims, who claimed to still be stalked by her. Their testimonies formed the basis of a disturbing chronicle of the sect’s origins—a sect of flesh-worshippers whose fugitive priestess was said to be allied with both the Witch of Guayabal and the phantom Ánima del Naranjal.
The group had originally been gathered by Rafael Rojas, a black magician and former night watchman of the Joboliso Cemetery, imprisoned decades ago for trafficking human bones to the Paleros of Marhuanta. Drawn together by occultism, superstition, alcoholism, and the migrant folklore of Colombians and Cubans during Ciudad Zamora’s oil boom, their practices blended Afro-Caribbean Vodou with Catholic ritual. Over time, this syncretism birthed rural dioceses led by healers and spirit mediums. Alcoholism, repression, and evangelical guilt gave way to carnivalesque depravity: naked bodies dancing in nocturnal covens, intoxicated by liquor, LSD, and the delirium of a society collapsing into its own shadows.
These nocturnal traditions waned with time—evangelical expansion, economic collapse, and mass migration emptied the hills of their nightly rites. But the digital age revived the hunger for forbidden ecstasies. As loneliness metastasized through smartphones and isolation, the old flames reignited: sweat-soaked bodies fused again in the Cerro de los Báez, while spirits returned to mount the vulnerable, the desperate, and the spiritually porous.
“It was our duty to return to the practices of our ancestors,” Valeria Carrullo told us after eight hours of surgery to remove two fused penises from her vaginal canal. Her mother had belonged to Rojas’s cult when she lived in 19 de Abril. Her ex-partner lured her to the circle of Luis Manuel, and what she witnessed there—their sorcerer forcing her partner into a humiliating position—shattered whatever illusions she had left.
José Manuel, the group’s twenty-two-year-old Guide, survived three surgeries to remove the fused organ lodged deep in his rectum. A clinically depressed loner with schizoid features, he claimed that visions of local spirits called to him. During a trance at the “24 de Julio” ravine, he was supposedly possessed by Guaicaipuro and overpowered two women “like dolls.” That was before they met the Witch of Guayabal.
Witnesses describe her as a tiny, skeletal woman with cropped black hair and a furtive gaze—an infernal creature hiding behind the face of a malnourished girl. Greigimal Solórzano introduced her to the circle after meeting her at the Feria de la Sapoara. Their nights of drinking, vomiting blue liquor, and sharing ghost stories forged a bond that later led to the revelation: the girl claimed to be a priestess of fire and wire, capable of levitation and mesmerism. Many swore they saw her bend the laws of the physical world.
Her true name remained secret; within the circle she was simply the Witch of Guayabal. She partook in orgies with indiscriminate hunger, allowing herself to be ridden by spirits while she officiated rituals with forbidden books—most notably pages from the Garra Negra, a proscribed text linked to Nicolás Fedor, the infamous Black Sorcerer of the Llano Negro. Her ceremonies emanated a force that made campfires explode and the earth vibrate.
In their eyes, she was everything at once: Aphrodite incarnate. Succubus. Medusa. Venus. Child. Demon. An angel broken beyond repair.
But it was her idea that damned them. She persuaded José Manuel to pose as a marble David while she sculpted his body in grey clay, her hands gliding over his thighs, his sex, igniting him with delirious ecstasy. Her rituals blurred the lines between art, seduction, and sorcery.
Then she produced a copy of the Garra Negra—a book believed destroyed by the military. Its pages, yellowed and cracked, contained prophecies, necromancy, and heretical invocations preserved by academia in vaults and archives, far from public reach.
The Witch convinced the circle to invoke Pazuzu during a grand orgy on Samhain night. She taught them a Babylonian chant and instructed them to wear white ceremonial tunics. As they spat on the Gospels and bled sacrificed animals into the fire, she painted pentagrams on their foreheads and recited an unholy tongue that twisted her eyes into a demonic glaze.
According to survivors, **she also invoked the Demon of the Meridian...
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–Continue reading in its original Castilian language at https://fictograma.com/ , an open source Spanish community of writers–