1. Invitado, ven y descarga gratuitamente el cuarto número de nuestra revista literaria digital "Eco y Latido"

    !!!Te va a encantar, no te la pierdas!!!

    Cerrar notificación

The Secret of the River

Tema en 'Prosa: Torre de Babel de Prosa' comenzado por Selene, 28 de Septiembre de 2016. Respuestas: 0 | Visitas: 824

  1. Selene

    Selene Poeta recién llegado

    Se incorporó:
    21 de Marzo de 2010
    Mensajes:
    134
    Me gusta recibidos:
    17
    Género:
    Mujer
    I was taking a late night walk. It had been such a stressful day that I couldn’t bear to stay another single minute inside four suffocating walls. I didn’t even stop to change my clothes, even though it wasn’t the most comfortable thing to do to go into a park with my business outfit and heels. Still, I happily wandered to the far end side of the park, smoking a cigarette and enjoying the silence. That park was usually full of people of various ages and occupations, but at that time only the ducks at the small lakes across the vegetation inhabited the place.

    I wasn’t really paying much attention to the road, or anything around me. My cigarette slipped between my fingers when I set foot on a river whose existence was totally unknown to me. I quickly took a step back and examined my shoe and the haunch of my trousers just to find that they were not only wet but stained by a red brownish substance. It was disgusting, and it turned into more than that when I got my phone out of my pocket to light up the area and look for the heelpiece I just realised was missing from my now ruined shoe. There was a corpse just a few inches away from where I had set foot, it was her blood that was now part of my foot, shoe and trousers. For a moment I stood still looking at her, paralysed in fear, until I was finally able to unlock my phone and make an emergency call.

    I had only heard the first beep of the line when a sound of someone walking upstream towards me scared the hell out of me. It only took me five minutes to reach the park gates and only another three to get home, when it would have normally taken me three times longer. Exhausted and half barefoot, I opened the door of my apartment but I didn’t have time to close it behind my back before I collapsed on the floor, victim of an anxiety attack.

    Someone did close it, nonetheless. I didn’t answer the emergency call, having left my phone at the scene. They never found her. Neither did they find me.
     
    #1

Comparte esta página