Today I wanted to leave his homework. What follows is the beginning of a short story that is coming out in recent days. I already have in mind the 'subject matter and plot, so I hope to finish soon, everything is in being able to maintain the style until the end. Your task is to tell me what are your impressions of first glance. I do not want to know if you like it or not, but what stirs in you, what feelings, what stories it evokes in your mind. I know that the text is little for a complete opinion, but that is why I want a first impression of your view, the first thing that goes inside. Note, however, is that an early draft. I do not then no photo or background music because I want the text to speak, if he can.
patience and trust in your friendship. You can answer me, if you will, below, or in private. TIM
Why I get this vial of white powder in his hand?
And because I have my pants stained with blood?
and arms? Again, this is blood?
And then, where are they? Where is this place full of fog where I am?
I only see a few trees and walking on a carpet of leaves. I've always been afraid to walk on land like that, where a snake can skip to the legs, coming out from under a rock or some roots.
But I do not think it is time for snakes with this cold and above all this moisture.
I keep looking around me but I find no point of reference, I do not recognize anything familiar: a tree, a cliff, a trellis of Enel. At least as far as I can see within 50 feet of the fog that allows me to.
There is sun down here, perhaps because of the fog, perhaps for the trees, I imagine, very high above me.
not a dream, but I wish it was.
I look again the hand holding the vial, and I realize that the other is closed around something. It 's a cold material, possibly metal.
I feel the first touch, as if my senses worked with a priority: the first one, then another, then another still, but were not able to interact and understand the reality of the thing in its entirety.
also tells me that the smell is no smell of iron close to me and that does not come from land or air, but from my hand.
Then I look and I see a knife, long, such as hunting, at least I think, I guess, I do not understand these things, I do not mean to guns in general.
And I see the blood on his hands, but rather feel well adesso prima l’odore.
Chissà come faccio a sapere che quello è l’odore del sangue. Sin da bambino mi sono sempre rifiutato di annusarlo, il mio o quello di altri, per scoprire che odore avesse. Né ho mai voluto assaggiarne il sapore, come facevano i miei amici, per dimostrare la loro virilità davanti alle ragazzine del gruppo.
“Assaggia su, è dolce, sembra quello del maiale quando si fa il sanguinaccio! Hai paura vero? Femminuccia, sei una femminuccia!”
Avrei quasi voglia di leccare ora quel grumo rosso che vedo vicino l’impugnatura del coltello. Ma tanto non c’è nessuna femmina qui attorno a cui provare la mia virilità.
fact, there really is none.
I have to walk, keep going, sooner or later I'll find a road or a house, as this wood can be great.
Or maybe I meet a river, even a small one, and then maybe I will have more chance to arrive safely somewhere.
not even know how, in truth, but in all the books I've read and all the movies I've seen, who finds a water ends up finding the way out.
I try to stretch the ear, but none of the noise I hear I think the flow of water on stone or earth. And I do not feel neanche l’odore, dell’acqua corrente.
Ma solo dell’umidità che viene fuori dalla terra, da sotto quello strato di foglie che calpesto ad ogni passo.
Mi sforzo di collegare queste sensazioni (l’odore del sangue, il freddo del metallo, l’umido dell’aria e della terra) a qualche ricordo, per cercare di capire dove mi trovo, perché sono lì, come ci sono arrivato, cosa è successo.
E perciò, e soprattutto, per capire come venirne fuori.
Ora percepisco un fruscio, diverso dallo strascinare dei miei piedi sulle foglie.
E mi fermo per isolarlo, cristallizzarlo, nelle orecchie.
E 'without a sharp rustle, without sound broken, broken.
E 'rather than a continuous resonant, almost musical, human voice singing a lullaby in the middle of the sound of the wind slaps leaves on the branches.
Yes, that's it.
Now I feel better. The isolated and I follow him, but I do not understand where it comes from.
I turned round, and take any direction my eyes, I hear the sound, voice, coming from there.
E 'everywhere.
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