… El pueblo de Indiápolis, se fue quedando solo, parecía que había pasado una de las peores plagas jamás vistas. Ya poca gente subía a la colina de Poe. Tampoco él solía salir de su hogar, y cuando lo hacía regresaba antes del ocaso, frecuentemente advertía a sus visitantes sobre los misterios que ocultaba la oscuridad de la noche.

El escritor parecía enloquecer, al notar un extraño ausentismo, después de que cientos de personas, abarrotaban el espacio de su cabaña, hasta tener que sentarse cerca de un acantilado que había tras la sala de tertulias, para escuchar atentamente sus espeluznantes historias.

Cuentan que al comenzar la lectura, ocurría algo sumamente perturbador a los asistentes. Estos, extasiados por tan mesmerizante voz, inhalaban bocanadas de monstruosidad, y rendidos a tales encantos, perdían de ipsofacto la consciencia. Lo más delicado del asunto es que nunca más regresaban a sus casas. Ni siquiera el mismo Poe, fue capaz de descifrar tal acertijo.

Resulta, que alguien que escapó de ser asesinado en la colina, envió un mensaje desde su celular de última generación y pudo hacer contacto con gente de la Ley. Aquella denuncia, llamó la atención del criminalista famoso Frederick, especialista en casos de maniáticos, psicópatas, asesinos y casos extraños. Cuando el detective viajó a Indiápolis, tratando de ubicar al denunciante, este no apareció, ni era conocido entre los pocos habitantes que quedaban en el pueblo. El detective, entonces, decide montar una trampa al famoso escritor de la colina.

Decidido, se dirige hacia la Colina aquella mañana. Al llegar a la cabaña, toca la puerta y lo recibe un personaje elegantemente vestido, quien lo invita a pasar. Poe se identifica y Frederick le dice que es un admirador suyo que vino del Estado de Veramendoza, a escuchar una de sus historias, pero que tendría que ser en ese instante, pues debía marchar antes de que se ocultase el sol. Poe no tuvo inconveniente y comenzó el relato. Nada extraño ocurrió.

El detective se despidió, pero se ocultó tras una de las piedras gigantescas que adornaban la colina, a esperar la hora nefasta.
Poe, definitivamente, era el primer sospechoso, en el caso de la desaparición de casi todo el pueblo. Nadie sabe cómo. Aunque ellos mismos contaban que sus almas eran inhaladas por el monstruo de la Colina. De eso no estaba seguro Frederick. Debía comprobarlo y apresarlo de una vez, pues realmente es una historia espeluznante.

Al caer la tarde ve, el ascenso a la colina de algunas personas que se dirigían a la cabaña. Llegada la noche, comenzaba la lectura de historias macabras y la gente fascinada escuchaba atenta, al hombre de perfecto lenguaje. Culminada la tertulia, casi a media noche, se inicia el descenso de la gente. El escritor cierra las puertas de su cabaña, apaga las luces y todo queda en tinieblas.

El detective sigue de cerca las voces de la gente bajando la montaña. De pronto escucha un sonido extraño tras él, enciende su linterna y ve una gran sombra sin identificar. Saca su arma de reglamento, pero al parecer la luz ahuyentó al merodeador. Continúa el descenso, pero ya nada escucha. Todo indicaba que la gente había marchado en paz.

Distraído, tropieza con una piedra y con apenas un breve reflejo lunar, pudo ver algo realmente macabro. Experimentó el mayor susto de su vida, no lo podía creer. Quedó paralizado al mirar sus cuerpos desmembrados y ensangrentados. Encendió la linterna y sintió más que miedo, náuseas y ganas de llorar. Ante tan macabra escena, activó su arma y disparó. Una manada de lobos salvajes, huían despavoridos del lugar… El escritor de la Colina, inocente, tendrá algo más para contar …

... The town of Indiapolis was becoming lonely, it seemed that one of the worst plagues ever seen had passed. Few people went up to Poe's hill anymore. Nor did he ever leave his home, and when he did, he returned before sunset, often warning his visitors of the mysteries hidden in the darkness of the night.

The writer seemed to go mad, noticing a strange absenteeism, after hundreds of people crowded the space of his hut, until he had to sit near a cliff behind the chat room, to listen attentively to his spooky stories.

It is said that when the reading began, something extremely disturbing happened to the attendees. These, enraptured by such a mesmerizing voice, inhaled puffs of monstrosity, and surrendered to such charms, ipso facto lost consciousness. The most delicate part of the matter is that they never returned to their homes. Not even Poe himself was able to decipher such a riddle.

It turns out that someone who escaped being killed on the hill sent a message from his state-of-the-art cell phone and was able to make contact with people from the Law. That report caught the attention of the famous criminalist Frederick, a specialist in cases of maniacs, psychopaths, murderers and strange cases. When the detective traveled to Indiapolis, trying to locate the complainant, he did not appear, nor was he known among the few inhabitants who remained in the town. The detective, then, decides to set a trap for the famous writer on the hill.

Determined, he heads for the Hill that morning. Arriving at the cottage, he knocks on the door and is greeted by a smartly dressed character who invites him in. Poe identifies himself and Frederick tells him that he is an admirer of his who came from the State of Veramendoza, to listen to one of his stories, but that it will have to be at that moment, since he should leave before the sun sets. Poe had no objection and began the story. Nothing strange happened.

The detective took his leave, but hid behind one of the gigantic stones that adorned the hill, to await the ungodly hour.
Poe was definitely the prime suspect in the case of the disappearance of almost the entire town. No one knows how. Although they themselves said that their souls were inhaled by the monster of the Hill. Frederick was not sure of that. He had to check it out and catch it once and for all, because it really is a creepy story.

As evening fell, he saw the ascent to the hill of some people on their way to the cabin. At nightfall, the reading of macabre stories began and the fascinated people listened attentively to the man of perfect language. When the gathering was over, almost at midnight, the people began to descend. The writer closes the doors of his cabin, turns off the lights and everything is in darkness.

The detective closely follows the voices of the people coming down the mountain. Suddenly he hears a strange sound behind him, turns on his flashlight and sees a large unidentified shadow. He pulls out his regulation weapon, but apparently the light scared the prowler away. He continues his descent, but he hears nothing. Everything indicated that the people had left in peace.

Distracted, he stumbles over a stone and with only a brief lunar reflection, he could see something really macabre. He experienced the biggest shock of his life, he could not believe it. He was paralyzed as he looked at their dismembered and bloody bodies. He turned on the flashlight and felt more than fear, he felt nauseous and wanted to cry. Faced with such a macabre scene, he activated his gun and fired. A pack of wild wolves were fleeing in terror from the place... The writer of the Hill, innocent, will have something more to tc...