jueves, 22 de septiembre de 2011

Wake Up Call

I was dreaming about her, as always. It was a great dream, man... I almost came in my pants, as I felt that last kiss on my neck. But everything ends.

It was nearly three in the morning when the shivers came back. It was, if I may say, one of the most intense wake up calls I've ever had. And that's saying a lot considering that ten years ago I once had to deal with real fucked up autistic adults as a... yes, same thing as now, as a night guard. Of course I sleep at my job... I'm a night guard not a fucking vampire. Anyways, I knew it was coming. I knew tonight was gonna be different.

It started with the wind. That unique, horrible, howling wind of forgotten places like these. It was wilder and nastier than ever and I could see the flower arrangements -the few of them outside my little fucking cabin- tumble down looking heavier than their actual weight but smaller than their actual size. I wouldn't go out and look after them. I'm the guard not a fucking cleaning lady.

Then the sounds. Sometimes I wonder if it's this place or if it's me. Man, I could swear I sometimes hear whispers. A woman whispering. But then again, the wind, the solitude, and the night can play some creepy jokes on you. But what about the steps outside the cabin? Those are unmistakable. At least for me they are. Fuck, I can differentiate human steps from dogs'. And I'm telling you, I don't care how badass you are, you can spend the whole night without even blinking, and sure enough... a little past two o'clock you will hear them. Those slow, heavy steps. They never fade... as if they had nowhere to go but needed to feel useful.

I fucking had to feel useful too, so I scratch my balls, look out the window, and step out the door. The wind calms down, the steps stop, and I see the girl of my dreams. The one that almost made me have my first wet dream ever. She was looking straight at me, with the saddest eyes as she casually stood on Mrs. Ernol's grave.

At the break of dawn, I'll grab my things and walk out... really walk out. Those walks in which the steps never fade.

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