Datos personales

miércoles, 17 de agosto de 2011

A scotsman with a french name in England

As I approach to London I think that perhaps all the riots are just caused by his presence in the city (or county). Our systems aren’t made to face something like him; whether he’s from other dimension, time, space, or he is simply a old monster which has been watching man kind evolve since the glory of the Roman Empire to the discovery of the west to the days of the dominated Italy, bypassing the renaissance and the English Domination of the world till our days; it doesn’t matter, our minds, our bodies, they aren’t made to support him, whatever he is.

Quick question: Has any of you kill a man? I have, and let me tell you: it was not a nice experience. Last night I was someplace between Elmbridge, Surrey and Richmond, The Greater London Borough. I stopped on a little restaurant to stay the night before arriving at London and got in the back part (which was a little parking lot with space for 4 or 5 automobiles) I had purchased some rum earlier that day so I sat there and started intoxicating myself in order to forget for some hours my situation.

It was a calm night, the only lights were those of the cars passing by to get to Elmbridge or Richmond, there were virtually no sounds and the air was fresh and cold. After an hour of me drinking my precious poison something perturbed the silence. It was a man breathing heavily and saying repeatedly things about orders concerning London. I stayed silent and stared at the parking lot entrance, as I thought: he came in the parking lot. He scanned the place slowly till he saw me, then he stopped and breathed fast and heavy and shouted “Him” he then pulled out a knife and ran towards me screaming bloody murder. I am not an idiot so I pulled out my gun and gave him advice to stop but he wouldn’t listen. I didn’t have the nerve to shoot so he lunged towards me and my gun went out flying in the air. I managed to grab the hand with the knife, after a few seconds it became obvious that keeping a force struggle with him equalled death, so I pushed his arm as hard as I could and have him a kick in the solar plexus to apart him from me. While he tried to get up from the kick I crawled for my gun because of the other one having no rounds in that moment. When the gun was at hands reach he grabbed my leg with one hand and started saying repeatedly “Not going to London! No! Not London!” I pushed his face with my other face but that didn’t help, as I kicked him in the face and tried to get my weapon he tried to stab me in the leg but just managed to cut me. A second strike was coming but a kick in his face saved me again from a stab, just giving me a second, deeper, cut. The adrenaline finally permitted me to give a kick strong enough to get him off my leg and crawl to my gun. Once I had the pistol in my hands I gave him one last advice to stop; he got up and ran towards me relentlessly. I closed my eyes and shot 1, 2, 3 times. The man fell to the ground. 2 bullets had ended his life, one had probably entered the left longue and the other one impacted on the heart or close to it.

I wanted to feel bad, I desired to, I tried to... but I couldn’t after so much shit going on my life, and after that bloody bastard giving me one more wound I just could feel glad because of his death. I sat on and tried to look at my wounds when another git interrupted me: a young man about 1.83 metres with brown hair and a very messy look. He was panting while looking at his surroundings; before he could saw me I draw his attention by cocking my gun.

-Who’s there?- He asked with a very thick Scottish accent

-All right, mate, -I answered- if you don’t want to end up as your partner down there you better explain what did you two wanted from me.

He replied very scared.

-What do you mean? What partner? I don’t understand!

-You take me for a halfwit? You have 5 minutes to explain to me what are you trying then you can leave and take your partner to make a proper disposal of his body.

-I can’t explain it... shoot if you please-he looked down and turned to face me- you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.

-Oh, I’ve seen a lot of things, mate. Go on and try- I replied while taking out a fag from my pocket- So, tell me. Why are you two here?

He made a big sigh and tried to make his mind up, meanwhile I lightened my cigarette and started smoking, after a long silence he started speaking again.

-There is this... monster-immediately I lowered my smoke and gave him all of my attention- which is known as... the slenderman. He has the ability to take control of people and make them –I interrupted him and walker towards him while aiming at him with my gun.

-You better not be joking about this, mate, believe me: that’s one subject that I don’t tolerate lies about.

-Why?-he asked- is he following you too?.

-Yes, he is.

-Did you meet him on the internet?

-More or less.

-What do you mean?

-I saw him as a child-I lowered my weapon and turned around-. I’m Travis.


-So tell me, Remy, what is your deal with this bloke from here?

-He is a hallowed, you know, he is under his control.

-He was –I said with a little laugh- and why are you following one?

-I am mostly sure that if I follow one of them they will eventually take me to slenderman.


-He was going north, but 9 days ago he switched his route and started to head south, to London.

-That’s where I’m going. Curious thing is that he just talked about not going to London. It doesn’t matter anymore. You can stay the night here if you want.

-Thanks... wait!-he started to search for something- where’s the body?

-I don’t know, maybe it just disappeared.

I went back to my original place and sat beside my bottle of rum.

-You want a smoke?

-No thanks; I don’t smoke.

-And how about some rum, mate?

-No thanks, I don’t drink either.

-Well -I opened my bottle of rum- Your life must have been pretty good for you to never have had the need to drown your sorrows in alcohol, mate.

-And how bout you? Since when do you drink?

-Since I was 15.

-And how old are you?


-Rough times, huh?


I gave a huge swig to my rum and then proceeded to speak about more pointless stuff with the Scottish. I woke up at 4 A.M. By that time Remy wasn’t there no more and, luckily, he didn’t steal any of my stuff. London is close now and I should arrive there in an hour at worst.

Any help or data you can provide will be appreciated.

Travis A. Walker.

4 comentarios:

  1. ay pdnejo de meeirdhaaa the mh0ryzte >:( i ezo ke a mí mhe emkantabam llhaz zlendiaventruaz

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