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A new day and I started my morning ritual. Once I got out of bed I rushed to the kitchen and brewed the water for my coffee. After my first cup of nice dark coffee to get me vitalized, I turned on my laptop to watch the news while holding my second cup of coffee in my hands. I opened all the pages and started reading. Then I went on to brush my teeth, but not before I had a second cup of coffee. As you'll notice, I don't brush when I get up, I brush after the second cup of coffee.
Once brushed, I assembled the dough for my arepa in the griddle. While waiting for it to cook, I opened WhatsApp to say hello to the family. I noticed that my brother Raul, the youngest of us, sent me an ad that came up on Instagram. I clicked on the link and it took me to a flyer that read:
The ad had been placed by the most well-known coffee distribution company in the country. Its owner, a very rich man, would reward the person who spent a week at the Coffee Mansion.
The Coffee Mansion, as we all call it in the city, looks majestic on top of a hill. It has gothic towers at the ends and its dark-colored barred windows looked like something out of a horror story. The house was so strange that it provoked some fear and at the same time curiosity. The older people said that the mansion was haunted and that dark shadows danced in its corridors.
I am not superstitious and the idea of winning a lifetime supply of coffee was quite tempting. Besides, I needed a change. I had recently lost my job and my girlfriend Clotilde had traded me in for the guy who picked up the trash down the block. All I needed was to have a dog pee on me. So I decided to answer the ad.
The papers were signed and I moved into the mansion. The first night was quiet and strange at the same time. It must be because one does not adapt to a new place immediately. The good thing was that the house had a wonderful smell of coffee and the many windows allowed a refreshing breeze to come in, which called for calm.
The second day my Beetlejuice socks crumpled. The lights were flickering and I heard footsteps echoing in the hallways. I felt like I was being watched, sure there was someone, but I never found them.
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On the third day, the tension increased. I began to see shadows and hear rustling, which kept me goat-eyed, sucking tamarind. I thought about leaving the house, but the lifetime supply was a wonderful prize that I should not lose. At the same time, my curiosity did not disappear, I wanted to know what was going on and if what the old people in town were saying was true.
On the fourth night with my eyes that looked like a mask for not sleeping well, it occurred to me to enter the library. There I found a notebook that looked like a diary. In its stiff pages, it narrated the history of those who seemed to be the former owners. The mansion had been the setting for a passionate marriage, a betrayal, a suicide.
But what caught my attention the most was that on one page it was written: "Coffee is the key. Drink a cup at three in the morning and you will discover the truth". We all know that three o'clock in the morning is the witching hour; well, that's what my grandmother Francisca used to say. Filled with curiosity, I brewed a cup of coffee to drink right at the witching hour.
The huge wall clock chimed in such a way that again my socks crumpled. It was three o'clock in the morning. I drank a cup of coffee. Then I saw it. A specter, a strange thing, it had no shape and seemed to float. At that moment I heard a whisper telling me that the mansion was cursed and that I should run away. As scared as I was I didn't know what to do. If I ran away I would lose the prize, but if I stayed maybe I would lose my life or go crazy with so many paranormal things.
Then I made a decision. To give me courage I shouted: I'm not going to leave you demoniac, you're not going to take my coffee for life. Come before me and let's face each other like brave men.
Sure, I was more than scared, but it was true, I was not going to let them take my coffee. Suddenly, the lights in the house went out and a large black curtain that was on one side of the library moved violently to give way to an immense shadow two meters high. Yikes! I thought that was as far as my life went.
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All of a sudden, the lights came on again, and before me was the six-foot-tall being who was none other than the owner of the coffee empire along with a team of cameramen telling me that I was a brave man and that I had earned coffee for the rest of my days.
They almost scared me to death.
All rights reserved. © Copyright 2023 Germán Andrade G.
The original content was written for:
#STB Coffee Prompt Week 68
The images are my property with a CANVA element in the background.
It is my responsibility to share with you that, as a Spanish speaker, I have had to resort to the translator Deepl to translate my original Spanish content into English. I also state that I have used the grammar-checking tool Grammarly.
I would have done the same too, but, after the award, I gave them a good insult for scaring haha!
Don't be mean, if you get the award stay still.
Thanks for the visit beautiful genius.
The photo belongs to millycf1976 and was edited using Canva.
When I think about the reasons why Clotilde changed you for the garbage man, the only thing that occurs to me is that it was all because you forgot to tell her great stories while they were having coffee.
I really enjoyed your story dear friend @germanandradeg , happy day. A big hug from Maracay.
Ha ha ha ha ha!
@irvinc, you just made my afternoon, I couldn't hold my laughter.
Best comment in a long time.
A thousand thanks, my good friend.
Regards.