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The House of Spirits - Isabel Allende

[...]
Barrabas came by sea in the family, noted the small Clara with her delicate calligraphy. Already then he used to write the important things and later, when he was mute, he also wrote the trivialities, never suspecting that fifty years later, his books I would serve to redeem the memory of the past, and to survive on my same terror. The day came Barrabas was Holy Thursday. He was in a filthy cage, covered with his own excrement and urine of its own, with a bewildered look miserable and helpless prisoner, but you already guessed - the regal bearing of her head and the size of its skeleton - the legendary giant who would become. That was a boring day and autumn, which in no way foreshadowed the events that the child wrote that they might be and remember that happened during the making of the twelve in the parish of San Sebastian, which assisted with the whole family.
In a sign of mourning, the saints were covered with purple cloth, which took away the Beguine each year from the dust of the cabinet in the sacristy, and, under the shroud, the court of heaven looked like a pile of furniture in anticipation of moving, without candles, incense or the groans of the organ could oppose this effect pitiful. Threatening dark masses stood in place of the holy life-size, with their faces all the same expression cooled, their elaborate wigs hair died, their jewels, their pearls, their emerald colored glass and their clothes by noble Florence. The only grief was the favorite patron saint, San Sebastian, because in the Holy Week the faithful were spared the spectacle of his body contorted in an indecent position, pierced by half a dozen arrows, dripping with blood and tears like a suffering homosexual , whose wounds miraculously fresh by Father Restrepo's brush with, made us tremble with disgust Clara.
That was a long week of penitence and fasting [...].

And at that moment, as he recalled years later, Nivea, in the midst of anxiety and silence, there was a very clear voice of little Clara.
- Pst! Father Restrepo! If the story of hell was all a lie, we just screwed ...
The index finger of the Jesuit, who had remained in the air to indicate new tortures, remained suspended like a lightning rod above his head. People stopped breathing and those who stood with his head hanging it up again. The spouses of the Valley were the first to react on hearing that they invaded the panic, and seeing that their children freaked nervous. Severus knew that had to do something before it exploded, the collective laughter or some cataclysm was unleashed heavenly. He took his wife by the arm and Clara by the neck and came out dragging a large strides, followed by the other children in the group rushed toward the door. They managed to escape before the priest had been able to rely on lightning that transforms them into pillars of salt, but the threshold heard her terrible voice of the archangel offended.
- possessed! Possessed superb! [...]


From "The House of the Spirits, Isabel Allende, Universale Economica Feltrinelli Ed, 1997, pp.11-12; 16.