In my village, a long time ago, a rich woman lived with her two sons. When they were seven years old, one of them had an illness on his skin, so the mother looked for a doctor. She found a strange doctor who could cure their problems, but the solution was worse than the problem. The only way to change the child’s skin was with another skin.

The mother didn’t want to kill one of his sons to save the other, so she decided to look for another child. She went to the orphanage and she killed a child. The woman took the body home and then she cut the face off the child.

The doctor was going to arrive next morning to change the skins, but that night the ill child died. The doctor went to another country and the woman, who put the orphan’s skin in a box, remained in the village with her son.

Some months later, in winter, the woman was preparing the wood for the chimney with a poker. At the same time, the boy was playing alone in the rooms when he found the box. He opened it and he took out the mask made of human skin. He thought that it was only a mask, so he wore it and he decided to surprise his mother.

The woman saw the child she had killed some months before, so she threw the poker at him. When she discovered that it was her son with the mask it was too late, because he was dead.

The woman could not believe it. She went out of the house and she started to walk through the forest. Then, it started snowing, and it didn’t stop for three weeks. 
Nobody has seen the woman since that day.

(Amb la colaboració de Hristo Mladenchev i Dani Tarín) 

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