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The music cut out abruptly, plunging the party into stony silence. As the band checked their instruments in bewilderment, the photographer frowned as he reviewed his captures.
One by one, the images showed the guests smiling and cheerful, except for one. Just behind Doña Micaela, a tall, somber man, dressed in black and with vacant eyes, appeared in the center of the frame.
-Who is that man? -she asked, showing the chilling photograph.
No one recognized him, swearing that there was no such person at the celebration.
The festive air grew thinner, giving way to a growing uneasiness. Doña Micaela paled at the sight of the image. With trembling hands, she clung to her eldest son's arm and muttered in a broken voice:
-It's... it's Ernesto. My brother Ernesto who died fifty years ago.
An icy chill ran through the room as those present held their breath. Doña Micaela burst into disconsolate tears.
-Ernesto... he... he... wanted this farm for himself. He threatened me... he said that if I didn't give it to him, I would regret it. I didn't believe him! I thought he was joking! -she sobbed in discomfort.
Suddenly, the lights flickered violently and a roar shook the foundations of the building.
Panicked screams erupted as a merciless icy wind swept through the room, blowing out the candles and tossing everything in its path.
In the gloom, only the tall, dark figure of the man in the photograph could be made out. A macabre and guttural laugh echoed with an unearthly echo:
-I own all this... And you too, Micaela! You won't be able to run away from me!
The guests were terrified and fled in madness. Ernesto's evil presence had been unleashed to claim his dire revenge.