Notre-way est un voyage
Dans l'hiver et dans la nuit Nous
cherchons
notre passage dans le ciel où rien ne luit
sang as the Swiss Guards through the River Berezina.
unaware of their fate, sang a sad song that turned out to be an omen of death.
Perhaps we are all ignorant, we do not know, we can not predict.
and decipher the omens are very difficult undertaking.
why I want you all to know, why is that there appears to be much lighter than an omen, a flash of intuition.
I want you to know.
The following script is the second story of the chronicles of madness and describes the second meeting of Romeo with his Dark Passenger.
THE CHRONICLES OF MADNESS - # 2
The second time was in a different way, was like a conscious stream, controlled, conscious, warm, almost pleasant.
The first murder had been the breaking of the walls that deal with any water, just as happens to the dams, when the fluid pressure overcomes the cohesion of the concrete.
The water had poured over the valley, following the slope, controlled only by the acceleration of gravity. The reservoir was emptied, going to create a new reality, this time dynamic and continuously over time. The sudden and tragic event
left room for the endless flow of water, certainly not yet calm, but aware of their freedom and free flow constraints that would set aside all the nuances of laminar and turbulent motions.
Clara met her at random, in a sunny and muggy afternoon in mid-June.
I could not explain precisely why I had gone to the gardens of Porta Venezia, maybe I was going to mingle a bit 'to the people to have new material to write about, or I just want to feel like a human being, one of enjoyment in those trying to walk under the leaves of the oaks of the park.
walked slowly breathing in the air, trying to understand the differences in temperature between the sunny areas and shady ones, while, with the corner of my eye, I saw a poster that caught my attention quashed and for a moment the yellow flash that continued to appear every time my left eyeball trying to see beyond the normal range.
I approached the metal structure that housed the poster and noticed with pleasure that the posting was about a live music event, which was pretty interesting for at least a couple of reasons: it was free and the bands listed were all more or less all worthy of note.
rare thing for another, in this city that forces the city to conform to the iconography of the dandy dandy. Concerts
interesting, whether pop, jazz or whatever, were difficult to find in Milan, apart from two or three local who courageously pushed a certain type of culture. The fold
tremendously tank of the city was a space shield against the youth culture, the real one, not the one made only of dancing and Lacoste.
Everyone, from citizens up to the municipal council, had helped to create a ghost town, built on the apparent well-being, the machismo, the image and, above all, on economic self-interest.
In essence, there was very little. It was all smoke and mirrors. The entertainment
youth were pre-, pre-printed as ordered by the city itself.
the evening there was really little to do there in the way of nightlife and the way of the aperitif. The maximum Goduria was run both, one after another. The local
clearly reflect the essence of the city, best represent the concept of emptiness is beautiful and full of substance.
Even the bread that was consumed in the city seemed to be subject to the same attitude, in fact had a wonderful crisp skin, but inside, there was nothing but air.
The clubs were then placed fake, paper mache, where mass die of heat you had to pay a blunder and be dressed like weddings.
Inside the club could be seen, if not yet had their eyes stuck in windows that the city was laying on the apples of their citizen-zombie, the whole truth that lay behind the appearance: young women, men, children and older people, all with the "Sunday dress" (as they used to do 50 years ago) to pretend to be better than what it really is. All
happy to look like small Briatore, the Berlusconi in grass, with their faux-elegant cocktail in hand, the way they do defiant. It was really a reflection of urban culture in which there were reflected the basic principles of ethics Milanese
_ Always have, wherever possible, a lovely presence, a well-groomed appearance. Show
_ to be wealthy (although not it is) with manners and clothing. Better a shirt that signed a dozen T-shirts normal.
_ Smiling always, to give the idea of \u200b\u200bsuccess, happiness, the "good life".
_ Choose carefully the people who are close. It would be better if they too were winners, but never better than you otherwise may go unnoticed and not stand out in the group.
_ If you have a Porsche, for God, the keys hang from the neck!
_ snorting cocaine, the powerful do, then you will be powerful too.
_ Never speak of politics, is terribly out at most some powerful praise that has made a lot of money, in order to make further clear what is your lifestyle. You are the party who wins, remember this.
_ The price of things is directly proportional to their validity.
_ The beautiful music is what you listen to beautiful places. In contrast, in a place without input selection there will never be decent music. On the other hand could be a place for homeless people.
seems exaggerated this list, an exhibition of banality, a mockery, a grotesque caricature of the new-yuppies.
Unfortunately however the list faithfully reflects the foundation of the culture that the city was the most popular, without exaggeration or stress of any kind (not even to the point 5). It is unnecessary to specify
that the city was not only image and appearance, there was clearly the other side of the coin, a creeping underground culture, albeit with difficulty, through the veins of Milan and Milan.
There were still places where young people could go to congregate, play music, make art or just relax without having to prove to be the coolest or the richest in the district.
the room where the event was one of them.
In that place, situated on the banks of the artificial lake city, I had spent many evenings, often trying to kill my usual demons with alcohol.
I was trying to poison them, to fit them a little good ', and sometimes I could not.
So there I was always happy, the beer was cheap and the bands that played were always the highest level.
We had heard some of my favorite bands and surely the whole post-hardcore scene of northern Italy had gone from his box.
So I was intrigued by the list of names shown on the poster, more than half of them knew, they were bands that I liked and that I would have liked to see together in a single evening.
The festival took place the same evening and, just when I thought we would go with pleasure, gasping and I heard a female voice behind me: "Uh, cool, can also play the Zu."
turns his head quickly and saw the girl was behind me, was sweating and was dressed in a sport. Evidently he had just stopped running, you could still see the pallor of the effort spread on her face.
He had a white cotton undershirt which stood out from the shoulders tanned, while lower sprouting of small breasts almost sharp.
was very pretty, with light brown hair tied to form a ponytail that was going to break sull'attaccatura neck.
smiled, looked like a jovial person.
I told her that I liked the Zu and I added that I would definitely go to hear them that night.
She said she could not come because her roommate, with whom you would have to make in the local, had left and now no longer had the passing car. As he pronounced the words "transition" and "machine" made a grimace, like those that often make the pretty girls, when you blink and pretend a sorrow so.
There was something explicitly sexual in that sentence, and I knew immediately that was really a request, enough front object.
I told her I'd gone to take me, no problems, so I was alone and I had some problems in the car seat.
"Really?!? How nice of you! "He said excitedly, passing his hand through his shorts before stretching it to me.
"My name is Clara."
"I am Romeo I said.
That night, without even realizing it, I was under 21 at Clara's house.
I saw her come from the right side of my car, had a long dark skirt, a big shoulder bag and still wore her hair tied up.
Shit, I said to myself, that's nice.
When Clara got into the car greeted me and kissing cheeks twice, to be honest, I am a little embarrassed that unexpectedly encounter.
As I drove to the area east of the city, she started getting a lot of questions.
Where do you live, what do you do in life, you live in Milan, live alone, what have you studied and all menate.
I replied with an endless series of lies and, just at that precise moment, I realized what was happening.
the perfume had to be sandals or something, I got into pinch my nose and mucous membranes, making me nervous with every breath. She spoke while
continuously, like a machine.
also said something intelligent, was not a dimwitted, but my thought was now irrevocably fixed to the spring evening, when the beast inside I devoured my humanity out of the cage and pounce on its prey first.
I could not think of anything else.
continuously revised pictures of naked and abused his body lying in the bed of a small room of the building's student Bocconi. The beast that time
caught me off guard, off guard, because I was not expecting anything like this and because I knew I had the evil within.
But this time was playing cards with the Dark Passenger.
I felt it move inside me, as I warmed the blood through the veins, the heart, arteries, capillaries.
The feeling was calm, perhaps apparent, but I felt I had everything under control.
I took a side street, andandomi to put in a parking lot near Idroscalo anonymous.
The sky was now becoming black and the plants that surrounded the small square shield me from the rays of the moon, helping to embrace the darkness.
When I switched off the engine I heard the first salirmi blast of heat from deep within the bowels to the tip of the hair.
Sweat began to drip from his forehead and sideburns, going to gather in small droplets that still had proper size to survive the gravity remain attached to my face. But I felt
grow and form menisci limp as a result of their weight watery. They were about to fall, crashing.
All around me was giving way to a larger force, the drops of sweat were not the only ones to be ruled by something higher.
"Are we there yet?" I asked the girl with air naive and innocent.
I answered that I had parked behind the restaurant to avoid tail of the main car park.
But she saw something in that moment, you probably could see the flash of the demon in my eyes, or must have been trembling in my voice betraying my euphoric state of monstrosity.
I saw fear on his face. And that expression
lit in me strong and sudden desire to hurt her.
I wanted to beat her and make her suffer, I wanted to kill her.
The thirst for death had occurred in a clear manner, without delay, and this time more pleasant experience than the first.
Like anything else, the first time is always too adrenaline-filled excitement to enjoy it fully.
By the time you get used to, the euphoria is forever, but you can better enjoy the moment.
I was enjoying the moment.
I nourished her fear and felt an irresistible pleasure in knowing that in a few small fraction of a second she would be dead, wrapped in my grasp or under the blows of my knuckles hard and bony.
Without saying a word, she spun her body fat by sliding on the seat with one hand while trying to reach the door handle.
He gave me his back.
I was very fast: the Passas your right arm around his neck, taking her from behind.
Then, with his left hand, I helped tighten in the pincer of bones and meat.
I must have very strong close, because I heard crunching all its bones within my grasp.
His feet were moving constantly and his knees banged against seizures every part of the car, until she was able to lever arch by pointing your heels on the dashboard.
At that point, completely lost control.
I was excited, I felt I had an erection and I knew that I was only beginning. I enjoyed
shit, because I had complete control. She could not escape and that gesture of rebellion fueled more the devil that I carried inside.
suddenly I pulled my mouth to his face and a bite tore the whole left cheekbone.
I tightened the teeth with a brutality that shrapnel in the collision between the arcades, so I was able to tear any fabric that I had bitten.
inside of my mouth felt his flesh and his subcutaneous fat mix with my mucous membranes.
not a lot of blood came out, but the fat that flowed was disgusting, yellow and thick. Relentlessly continued to emerge in the laceration, producing an effect very different from the wounds that we usually see when we cut ourselves without going too deep.
It was horrible.
She shouted in a desperate, rather than the pain of awareness of the end.
was realizing that his trip was over, that his life of exile and a young girl was fading for ever, in the damn car, between the coils of a human beast.
was a cry sad, disillusioned, as if he had glimpsed for a moment all that was really the meaning of life: an infinite void.
I felt sorry, I felt pain for her, poor girl.
suddenly loosened his grip, spitting out pieces of his face on the seat.
through the opening bounded by the thin lips and well designed there was no more semblance of a gas exchange.
was dead. The
downloaded it without even fall, I just opened the door and pushed his dead body hot asphalt of the parking lot.
At that moment came in the car, suddenly, a dozen mosquitoes.
As I drove to exit the open space, I began to cry.
I cried because I could not bear the consciousness of having broken another life. I had put an end to the path of a beautiful and intelligent girl, I had no breath left in the middle of a deserted parking lot, his face torn and the body still warm, to make food from insects in summer.
I went home, still crying.
I had killed another, I was a serial murderess, a crazy ill and dangerous.
tried alcohol, I found a bottle of brandy, drank it all in an attempt to disinfect the monster who lived down in the bowels.
vomited repeatedly, weeping at the thought of that athletic body as a mannequin Cowgirl downloaded to the case in the middle of nowhere.
Then I fell asleep.
During sleep, I dreamed of being on a ship in the middle of the storm.
waves high above the bow and invaded the bridge, extending their wet tongue up my feet.
The water was black as death and emphasize the contrast with the white foam with its rivulets tried to drag me into the abyss.
I climbed higher and higher, the trees, reaching sails. But the gulf
swelled into a thousand huge bellies, but to pick me up.
I was terrified, paralyzed by fear of evil that water was approaching vessel to eat a piece of each trip.
finally arrived the wave black and horrible I had ever seen, and swallowed it all.
My silent scream froze in the larynx, but in some ways served to be able to wake from sleep.
was morning, I went to the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror.
I had the right upper incisor chipped in its inner end.
Here's another sign of tangible, physical, real body.
After the first time I was a flash in the eye, now I also had the tooth to remember who I had in me. The
beast.
daemon.
The murderess.
The Dark Passenger.
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