The First Night - Hermann Von Streiner
That night there was an atmosphere cold, which came in the bones making it painful all the movements.
The ground crunched underfoot in the darkness that surrounded the dim lamplight was unable to graze.
The figure will be open in front. The moment before the street was empty, the next moment she was there, wrapped in the damp fog that the coat could not counter.
did not seem to land anything.
He stood motionless at the center dell'acciottolato, seemingly oblivious to everything around her. Yet there were some, despite the distance, his eyes were fixed on you.
all started a few days before. Did you feel constantly shadowed, as if a dark presence is known to be appropriate in your own shadow.
More than once you found yourself pointing your pistol against the void.
That night, things went a bit 'different. The moment in which you voltasti, sentisti a laugh of a woman, and gay argentina like maybe not happening for some time. It is not the laugh of someone who is accustomed to laugh.
The slender figure of a woman with long dark hair and deep blue eyes you pour it down the road. You feel strangely tense, as if that woman who dresses in men's clothes could, in some strange way, put yourself in danger.
She comes over, hips swaying to the rhythm of his imposed determined, again with the laughter light to curve his lips. Do you feel touched by his presence has not even approached you so much. Would you like to shoot, but the mischievous twinkle in his eyes stopping you.
"Oh, yes!" whispers once is to go beyond "You'd be perfect!"
You turn around to try to guess what he meant but she was gone.
That night, which usually keep the gun under the bed, within arm's reach, with you waking on the bed.
The feeling continues to follow you, every time you come back from the barracks. You are a decorated World War I, you should not be concerned about the fools who follow you. But that meeting was to let them off. What
and its subsequent sightings.
Although something tells you that she was not always alone.
that day, the feeling is so close as to almost make you jump. Behind you there is a boy, about your age. It has about the same build your - Maybe just a little 'less robust - it's asking you how you can tell it was the war, it was there in the front line. And you wonder how on earth it is possible that one of your own age apparently healthy, could have avoided the front.
And then those eyes you're sure you've seen them, but he denies having relations with that woman dressed as a man.
and you feel as if I was telling the truth and I was lying. The
by appointment at your office the next day for any chat and, with his usual air of gruff, you redirect to your home.
But the surprises that night apparently did not have to be finite.
At the door of the building where he lived, was leaning against a giant blond. The long hair down on a pair of broad shoulders probably twice yours.
E 'Wiess Tod, the White Death, a bulldog of a regiment other than yours, but whose exploits have become almost legendary. It is a ruthless murderess. A real war machine. A veteran like you.
goes away almost immediately, but leaves you on an atavistic fear, fear of the prey that is hunted by a predator feels bigger and more dangerous.
It 'just dropped the sun. Soon, too, have an encounter with the man you met the day before and that is why, probably, you absolutely need something stronger. Going out to the bar, his head, for once, lost elsewhere. The fog is damp cobblestones, the road deserted. Raise your head shot and Wiess Tod's there, leaning against the entrance of your favorite bar, and looks at you.
and you feel trapped.
The man you met the other day you think you face with longing eyes and not a request that "either he or me."
And you did not really have any doubt.
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