martes, 18 de junio de 2013

Between the cracks (I-IV)

Versión inglesa, para la versión en español pinchar AQUÍ


                Haven't you never had the feeling of being watched, maybe even in a moment of pure privacy? Do you know how annoying is it? I do. I've always felt as if there would be somebody staring me every time. And, let me tell you, it's an extremely unpleasant sensation. Paranoia, that's how my doctor calls it.
                Anyway, it's the same, the ones who scrutinize me aren't important. But in Pedro Mejías' case, exemplary family guy, the perfect husband, the ideal workmate, it was going to intail something more than a mild disorder in his life...

                As every morning, Pedro went to the garage to take his run-around car out to the road to go to work. He felt happy, he was a man who had everything, a beautiful family, a faithful and nice wife, an interesting and well-paid job. He knew he was the envy of all his neighbourgs and acquaintances.
                However, that morning, as he arrived to his block parking something gave him the impression of not being alone in the quiet hall. The light from a fluorescent with a poorly set up ballast flickered botherringly away, and beyond there was only darkness. Before getting into his car Pedro stood with his keys on his hand staring to the dark... and he would have sworn that the darkness gazed back at him.
                He shook his head and got into the car. He discarded those thoughts which took him nowhere and drive out through the garage door, being not able to avoid a tiny shudder just before his lights hit the dark where, as you could think, was nothing.
                Without no more delay he joined the traffic and headed to the office.

                He was working restlessly all day long, which had hindered him from being as concentrated as he shoulded, and therefore he haven't been able to end Mr. Farias' account in time, so he had to see how his workmates left at their appointed hour while he waited for dusk from his cubicle. He was so absorbed by his work that he even didn't notice the nightfall.
                When he ended at last he realized his solitude. Maybe some of the janitors was still in the building, but his floor suddenly seemed to him very dark and lonely. It was then when he heard, not, felt, a breathing, a pulse that grew and grew in that same room, but there was nobody making it. Pedro wasn't able to discer from where it came.
                All of a sudden, he stood up looking all around, nervous and frightened. His heart jolted. He was convinced that there was a presence in that room althought his eyes couldn't see anything. However, he was sure that there it was, staring him directly in the eye.
                Without turning the lights out Pedro stood up, put on his coat and got ready to go out through the door.
                It was closed. It looked like locked. Pedro struggled with the door knob to see if it gave, when he realized that he was trying only in one direction, inwards. He pushed outwards and the door opened when he was about to have a heart attack.
                With nervous steps he made his way to the elevator feeling like some burning eyes like embers drilled his nape. He tried to feign strenght and not to look although the whole of his spirit told him to turn around. But he  was reluctant to give to unreason and, as the sane person he was, slowed down and reached the elevator without any more complications. The doors slid shut behind him with a comforting "clonc".

                He ran. Step by step, brath by breath, he ran with all his soul. Something chased him off, something large, terrible, dark and cruel. His heart was about to get off his chest as he was dashing so fast and breathing was like taking a thousand pins inside his chest, but he couldn't stop running for the soul and the life of him. He felt the fetid breath of death... no, not death, something worse, pouring hot and unmerciful through his back, reaching his nape. He could feel how its claws slashed the air and how unparalleled hatred and wickedness confined themselves in an amorphous and undefinable figure, a trembling shade which only immutable feature were those terrible eyes of fire that he didn't seem but which he needed not to gaze to know that they were there.
                It was getting closer each time.

To be continued... HERE

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