NIGHT STORY
As I began writing it was not hundred percent sure the relevance of his writing, the validity of having it all. But on the other hand, largely avoided think maybe if it was his last literary attempt.
was tired. Or rather tired frequently (at least three times per week). No, this was not an issue that had to do with his age, with its nearly sixty-four years. In the purely physical, its effect was higher than in their twenties, did gymnastics for a certain intensity (the style practiced by the British military) almost every day (the exception is produced when the wine has spent her night waking) and practicing kung fu (Chinese martial art) three times a week.
often be tired to remember how wrong I had been his life and the many and intense pain that it had been planned.
And those nights I dream rushing burdensome and uncertain. Upon awakening, he did nothing but nightmares attributed to alcohol intake at night. Could change their minds when a psychologist who reported that fine wine was only one variable among his motley psyche.
And now he was about to start writing had scrupulously avoided red wine consumption, replacing the brew blessed and invincible for a chaotic herbal tea. I was not totally sure of the need for all that, but I suspected that the time is were finishing.
The dream began to surround it. Did not stop smiling briefly when he wrote that was not entirely ruled out that Morpheus has bothered to save him from the whims of the gods (speaking of Nietzsche when he thought about the gods and Morpheus after starting to be interested in Greek mythology).
did not notice at all when he began to see her first vision was imprecise: playing in the background is the traditional march-German Erika Pinochet's favorite, and a diffuse odor seemed to dominate in the immediate environment (the room talking about work and rest night our man). Embody the vision began little by little and little by little an unprecedented terror began to seize. The process took several minutes before she was fully manifest. Lucia Hiriart was Vda. Pinochet, she looked young, possibly in his thirties, appeared to be armed with an instrument: possibly a whip? I was staring at but at times led sideways view to either side. It said he knew that look grim.
-Lady ... "he managed to say softly.
She looked at him with extreme severity. He is not possible to make the instrument that carried Dona Lucia, but he guessed rightly that the situation was very dangerous. He wanted a cigarette but she stopped him.
"Look, young man rebuked him with his usual shrill voice, I do not know how dare you treat me lady after all that has peddler about me.
Young eyes of the former First Lady were now piercing, he knew this was the end. The woman raised her right arm and started to download the first lash on his hands still rested on the computer keyboard.
When the whip reached his destination, our man woke up completely drenched in sweat. The next day, would infer that it was all due to the chaotic infusion of herbs he was drinking. But, however it chose to give up writing: that issue was not at all relevant. In fact, all his baggage was too impertinent literary theme. And that should be the reason why chose suicide.
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