the tale with mixed the aroma of the gardenias and the butterflies; I conserve among my clear and magic girl memories, the nights of stories and legends.

When after dinner, the family used to prepare taffy candies, acitrones (candies), honey fig candy, empiñadas, cashew seeds and other delights; which knit with magic threads the plot of the tale of that splendid full moon.

It was as a ritual; from time to time, the servants united to the tale's telling, the peons and neighbors came from their houses, lighted by big, yellow, candles covered with paper bags, and candiles.

A child traveled our back: my brothers, mine, and the back of all those in the corridor. The girls welcomed us with cushions and robes to warm us. But the cold arose from tale not from the night time.

My tales of the past, that with magic and mysticism; our parents, grandparents, and grand, grand, grants, adorned for our minds, woke up in us those moments that we could live only if we were children another time.

The nights of stories in “The Bermuda” seek to rescue that feeling that maintains the mind creating images, remembering stories, living emotions that, through the years and the technology we have forgotten.

Time where the elders turned into little kids again, playing part in the plot, being plundered and frightening us, appearing in the frames of the doors thrilling us.

The stories that more we liked were those of fright, especially when those had been seen by a resident of the house.

One to one, paraded in the moon night: The Siguanaba, The Cipitio, The Hank, The Whiner, The Monk without Head among so many others, that we hope you enjoy in the rescue of the historical memory of “The Bermuda"

Dra. Elizabeth Cañas de Huezo