«Desde un puente ferroviario, al norte de Alabama, un hombre contemplaba el paso rápido del agua seis metros más abajo. Tenía las manos detrás de la espalda, las muñecas sujetas con una soga; otra soga, colgada al cuello y atada a un grueso tirante por encima de su cabeza, pendía hasta la altura de sus rodillas.» Si hubiera que rescatar un puñado de cuentos de la historia de la literatura, sin duda muchos de esos pocos llevarían la firma de Ambrose Bierce, maestro absoluto del género, que dejó una cobra copiosa e inimitable. La ejecución de sus cuentos es perfecta: pequeños mecanismos de relojería textuales a los que no les faltan la mirada aguda, la imaginación y el ingenio, sazonados con una ironía y un cinismo que los hicieron célebres. Su obra es plena de imágenes sugerentes, diálogos impecables, escenas escalofriantes y tramas simples o diabólicamente enrevesadas pero siempre manejadas con maestría. Generaciones de cuentistas de todas las lenguas lo han homenajeado, entre ellos H.P. Lovecraft y Jorge Luis Borges. La cosa maldita reúne sus mejores piezas de terror y misterio.
Author
Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce (1842-1914) was an American editorialist, journalist, short story writer, fabulist and satirist. Today, he is best known for his short story, An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge and his satirical lexicon, The Devil's Dictionary. The sardonic view of human nature that informed his work – along with his vehemence as a critic, with his motto "nothing matters" – earned him the nickname "Bitter Bierce." Despite his reputation as a searing critic, however, Bierce was known to encourage younger writers, including poet George Sterling and fiction writer W. C. Morrow. Bierce employed a distinctive style of writing, especially in his stories. This style often embraces an abrupt beginning, dark imagery, vague references to time, limited descriptions, the theme of war, and impossible events. Bierce disappeared in December 1913 at the age of 71. He is believed to have traveled to Mexico to gain a firsthand perspective on that country's ongoing revolution. Despite an abundance of theories, Bierce's ultimate fate remains a mystery. He wrote in one of his final letters: "Good-bye. If you hear of my being stood up against a Mexican stone wall and shot to rags, please know that I think it is a pretty good way to depart this life. It beats old age, disease, or falling down the cellar stairs. To be a Gringo in Mexico—ah, that is euthanasia!"
