This was a story that happened in 1955, back when the politics between countries were heated, soldiers were pushed to the frontlines, innocents gave their lives and the land felt the impact of the martyr's marches. It was also the time when my grandfather, Luis Devores, disappeared after finding a cannister of a beating heart inside.
Since then, I've heard many versions of that story, each one making me cuddle close to my teddy.
Mom's version was skepticism, a myth woven in a tale, while dad's, his version was what I stayed for. His story started when his father went for an outpost, leaving him and his mother alone. Him being a shy away from turning twelve when he got a peek of that thing in his father's chest.
He could still remember that night clearly as the hairs on his arm stood, and bet, he went weeks without a night's sleep. He was sure, it had eyes, moving and blinking, breathing even.
Dad outright claimed it wasn't a heart, but a creature resembling a heart. That was the last time he ever snooped around, till he too disappeared when I was just twelve years old.
The police, unfortunately, found no lead regarding the case.
He left us with only one clue, his believe for that mysterious object to still be there inside the chest, at the old bungalow in India. Therefore, that was what we were about to do. The best way to celebrate my twenty fifth birthday.
On June 2025, me along with four of my friends embarked on a journey to India to find the mysterious cannister, and get to the bottom of the disappearances.
It was an ambition, really. It was a collection of all those moments in my life he could provide in such a short time that made me fight my mom for this.
And I never fought with mom.