terça-feira, 20 de maio de 2014

Estranha Assassina """" Assassin

"  Enquanto subia os degraus, três a três, Gabriel saiu para a rua, onde estava Rafael, e trepou para as costas do cavalo. Sabia que não valia a pena seguir Michael e preferia estar preparado para o que quer que acontecesse a seguir.
  Com um estrondo, Michael abriu a porta do quarto ao cimo das escadas e perdeu o ar. Deparou-se com o que provocaria náuseas a qualquer um, principalmente a si, mas estava tão determinado em descobrir o que se passava que tinha posto de parte todos os sentidos. Todos menos a visão, e agora observava  o cenário mais horrível do dia.
  Havia apenas uma cama grande e uma de metro e meio de comprimento em que só cabia uma pessoa. Os colchões eram de palha e os cobertores eram grossos e de lã. Estavam embebidos no sangue que se lhes entranhara, que encharcara o chão e que começara a pingar para o andar inferior. Na cama pequena estava quem deveria ter sido o filho da senhora. Tinha um pijama branco e roto e a sua cabeça, na qual Michael conseguia distinguir uns olhos azuis, aterrorizados, estava meio separada do corpo. Na outra cama estava uma figura, também ela branca, que se contorcia sobre uma segunda, e que estava ensopada no sangue das suas presas, que a cobria toda a superfície que Michael conseguia observar.
  O que quer que fosse  não parecia ter dado por nada quando Michael entrou. Estava demasiado empenhado na tarefa de drenar o homem, e só parou depois do rapaz ter verificado que o som que ouvira era o do sangue a abandonar o corpo do homem e o odor era o de morte.
  Passaram-se alguns segundos até que parasse e se levantasse e endireitasse em cima da cama. Michael ouviu soluçar. Apercebeu-se de que tinha cabelo e era comprido e loiro, embora estivesse pintado no vermelho de todo o sangue com que acabara de se lambuzar. Espreguiçou-se, enfrentando ainda a parede. Estava por cima do corpo sem vida do senhor e balançou-se um bocadinho, como que dançando, até que parou.
  Michael susteve a respiração. Esperava que o que quer que fosse não se virasse, não o visse e o atacasse ou simplesmente desaparecesse. Mas ela virou-se. Era só uma mulher. Uma rapariga com a boca contornada em vermelho vivo e com um olhar tão admirado como o de Michael. Tinha a pele branca, como o vestido que usava, e, por poucos segundos, limitou-se a fitar o rapaz parada, de costas torcidas e de mãos abertas, como que enojada com o líquido que lhe pingava do queixo e das pontas dos dedos.
  De repente largou a correr. Saltou da cama para a janela e da janela para a rua.
  - Eh! Espera!! Gabriel!!! - chamou Michael, esperando que os irmãos o ouvissem e a agarrassem lá fora.
  Imediatamente a seguiu.
  A rapariga saltava de telhado em telhado, correndo à velocidade de um cavalo selvagem, sem qualquer dificuldade, e Michael, sem se aperceber, fazia o mesmo. Gabriel e Rafael tinham ouvido os gritos e, nas ruas abaixo dos telhados das casas por onde a rapariga e o irmão saltavam, seguiam, a cavalo, a toda a velocidade. Às vezes, com a distracção de ter que olhar para cima enquanto conduziam os cavalos, Gabriel e Rafael quase se estatelavam contra as paredes de madeira das casas, mas desviavam-se sempre a tempo e a perseguição continuava.
  Em cima dos telhados, Michael tinha o olhar fixo no vestido ,que ganhara forma de balão com a velocidade, e nos cabelos loiros, sujos e chicoteantes, aos quais se chegava cada vez mais. Estava descalça, mas não parecia magoar-se nem sequer importar-se com as farpas que a madeira dos telhados soltava quando passava, e ,cada vez que Michael a começava a alcançar e esticava a mão para a agarrar pelo vestido, ela descrevia uma curva de noventa graus que quase o fazia cair do topo das casas e o deixava bastante para trás.
  Foi quando estavam perto do fim da vila, nas últimas casas antes da floresta, que Michael a conseguiu finalmente alcançar. Gabriel e Rafael ainda os seguiam de perto pelas ruas e ruelas da vila, embora os cavalos já estivessem esgotados, e, quando faltavam quatro telhados para alcançar a floresta, a rapariga saltou, erguendo-se alto no ar, dirigindo-se a um dos pinheiros mais altos. Michael fez o mesmo, mas teve mais força e saltou mais, interceptando-a a meio do ar e despenhando-se no chão sobre a rapariga que devia ser a mais rápida, resistente e maluca do mundo. Pelo menos era o que Rafael achava naquele momento, enquanto parava o cavalo ao lado do de Gabriel e o tentava desmontar o mais depressa que conseguia.
  Michael estava por cima da rapariga, no chão, de joelhos afundados na terra, de forma a prender-lhe o tronco à lama, e de mãos envoltas nos pulsos da rapariga, aprisionando-os também.
  O vestido que ela usava era agora apenas um pedaço de tecido, feio, pintado de vermelho e castanho sujos: um trapo. Tinha o cabelo molhado e enlameado e os pés enterrados na lama do início dos bosques, com os joelhos dobrados atrás das costas de Michael e a cabeça pressionada contra o tronco do pinheiro. Estava presa e, aparentemente, indefesa, mas não parecia assustada. Em vez disso fixava os seus olhos dourados nos de Michael, intensos e firmes, como que raivosa por ter sido apanhada. Não dizia uma palavra e não mexia um músculo.
  O rapaz observou-a durante uma fracção de segundo. Era bonita: era a mulher mais bonita que já tinha visto, e no entanto, em vez de frágil e assustada, sentia-a firme e agressiva.
  - Quem és tu? - perguntou Michael, apertando-lhe mais os pulsos.
  Ela cerrou os punhos, mas não respondeu.
  Tinha os olhares dos três irmãos fitos em si, curiosos, mas não parecia querer tirar o seu da face de Michael.
  - Quem és tu?? - insistiu.
  E a rapariga, de olhar frio e fixo no de Michael, insistiu também no seu silêncio.
  Tinha fogo da cor de ouro nos olhos e manteve-se quieta por pouco tempo, até que mexeu as pernas e os pés. Depois começou a contorcer-se mais e mais depressa, fazendo força com todos os membros e em todas as direcções.
  - Está quieta! - ordenou Michael.
  De repente sentiu uma pancada no meio das pernas.
  - Ai! - gritou.
  De alguma forma tinha conseguido soltar o joelho e dar-lhe uma joelhada bastante dolorosa.
  Michael não consegui evitar soltá-la e contorcer-se, os irmãos estavam sem reacção e, em poucos segundos, tinham acabado de deixar fugir a desconhecida que tinha acabado de matar duas pessoas, e que podia ser a assassina de Noah. Mas, de alguma forma, e embora estivesse encolhido no chão, de roupa, cara e cabelos cobertos de lama e gemendo de dores, Michael não iria conseguir deixar de a lembrar como sendo a mulher mais bonita que já tinha visto."


Mais um pedacinho de história que adorei escrever :P espero que gostem tanto como eu, que comentem e que partilhem com toda a gente de que se lembrarem!

  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

"  While he climbed the stairs, three by three, Gabriel went outside, where Rafael was, and climbed to the back of his horse. He knew that following Michael wasn't going to do any good and he's rather be ready for whatever happened next.
  Loudly, Michael opened the upstairs room's door and when he saw it he wasn't able to breath anymore. He saw what would make anyone want to puke, specially him, but he wanted so much to find out what was happening that he had shut down every sense. Every one except his vision, and he could now observe the most horrifying scenery he had seen that day.
  There was only one big bed and a one meter and a half long one where you could only fit one person. The mattresses were made of straw and the blankets were made of wool. They were all wet with the blood that had entrenched itself on them, soaked the floor and that had started to trickle into the floor below. The one that should have been the woman's son was the one lying on the little bed. He was wearing a white, shabby pajamas and his head, in which Michael noticed a pair of terrified blue eyes, was almost separated from his body. In the big bed he could see an also white form, twitching itself on a second one, soaked on the blood of its preys, which covered everything Michael could see.
  Whatever it was, it didn't seem to have noticed him when he walked in. It must have been too focused on the task of draining the man of his own blood and it only stopped after the boy had made sure that the noise he heard was coming from the blood leaving the man's body and the smell he could feel was the smell of death.
  A few seconds went by until it stopped, raised itself and straightened its back, standing on the bed. Michael heard it sob. He could finally see that its hair was blonde and long, although it was painted red with the blood it had just besmirched itself with. While still facing the wall, it stretched itself. It was still on the man's lifeless body and it shook itself a little bit, just as if it was dancing. Then it stopped.
  Michael stopped breathing. He was hoping it wouldn't turn around, see him and attack him simply flee. But she turned around. It was just a women. A girl with her mouth and chin painted in bright red and her eyes showing as much surprise and Michael's. Her skin was white like the dress she was wearing and, for a few seconds, she just kept still and stared into the boy's eyes with her back twisted and her hands open as if she was disgusted with the liquid that was dropping from her chin and the tip of her fingers.
  Suddenly she ran. She jumped from the bed to the window and from the window to the street.
  - Hey! Wait!! Gabriel!!! - Michael shouted, hoping that his brothers would hear him and catch her outside.
  He immediately started chasing her.
  The girl jumped from the roof of a house to the roof of the other, running effortless at the speed of a wild horse, and Michael was doing the same without even noticing it. Gabriel and Rafael had heard the shouting and were now chasing after them down in the streets at full speed with their horses. Sometimes, because they had to look up while directing the horses, the two brothers would almost go against the wood walls, but they would always dodge them at the last second and the chase would go on.
  On the roofs, Michael had his eyes on the dress, that was now shaped like a balloon because of the speed, and on her blonde, stained, lashing hair which he could almost touch. She wasn't wearing any shoes but she didn't seem to mind it or even hurt herself with the splinters of wood coming from the roofs at her passage and, every time Michael came close to grabbing her dress, she would make a ninety degree turn, almost making him fall off the roofs and delaying him a bit more.
  It was when they were in the town's edge, in the last houses before the forest, that Michael could finally reach her. Although the horses were tired, Gabriel and Rafael were still nearby, following through streets and alleys, and the girl jumped when there were only four roofs left before the woods, raising herself high in the air, heading towards one of the tallest pines. Michael did the same but was stronger in his jump and was able to catch her in mid air, ending up falling on the floor over the girl that, according to Rafael's thoughts, who was climbing down his horse as fast as he could, should be the fastest, toughest, craziest girl in the world.
  Michael was on the floor, on the girl, his knees pressing her body against the mud and his hands around her wrists, imprisoning them too. The dress she was wearing was now but a piece of ugly, dirty red and brown tissue: nothing but a rag. Her hair was wet and muddy and her feet were buried in the mud from the beginning of the woods, with her knees bent behind Michael's back and her head pressed against the pine's trunk. She was stuck and apparently helpless, but she didn't seem to be scared at all. Instead, she kept her golden and intense eyes on Michael's, as if she was angry for having been caught. She wouldn't say a word or even move.
  The boy looked at her for less more than a second. She was beautiful: the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and yet, instead of fragile and scared, he could feel her strong and aggressive.
  - Who are you? - Michael asked, squeezing her wrists even more.
  She closed her fists and kept quiet.
  The three brothers were staring at her, curious, but she didn't seem to want to take her eyes off Michael's face.
  - Who are you?? - he insisted.
  And the girl answered by staying quiet and keeping her cold look on Michael's.
  She had golden fire in her eyes and, for a bit, she didn't move, until she stretched her legs and feet. Then she started twitching, pulling and pushing her hands and feet, arms and legs in all the directions and as strong as she could.
  - Stop!! - Michael commanded.
  Suddenly he felt a strong blow between his legs.
  - Ah! - he yelled.
  In some way she had been able to free her knee and strike him in a very painful way, and, in a few seconds, they had let the murderer of two people ,and possibly Noah's, escape. But somehow, although he was curling on the floor, with his clothes, his hair and his face covered in mud and moaning in pain, Michael would never be able to forget the beauty of the most beautiful women he had even seen."


And here is one more piece (that I enjoyed so much writing) of the book :P I hope you like it as much as i did, and of course you are welcome to comment on it and share it with anyone and everyone you remember!

4 comentários:

  1. Hei! Tinha posto um comentário! Onde está?

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  2. Dizia eu, mesmo sendo suspeita, que está muito bom e que desperta o interesse. Continua que eu gosto muito. Só tenho pena que seja tão espaçado porque perco o fio à meada. :*

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  3. Gostaria de continuar a ler a história

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