COLD HAND
According
have lived for a time and in a small house, without much circumspection, a mason who liked quiet talk on the elbows, but that was well liked by neighbors, because, among all the talk, sometimes telling stories and they were wrong, and had up his grace and in any case ensure the care of children and older when they met at home around the fire. The site where he lived, a little away from town and surrounded by trees, was a special atmosphere to polavilas (meetings held around the house llar tell stories in the long nights of winter) that were made at home : birds, wind noise and this particular darkness that you feel when you just finished the last light, helped somewhat overwhelm empezarlas.Un day before his own, and would change the way you see and feel things in this world, was having dinner peacefully bricklayer , a candle somewhere, the old trunk in coals which had warmed dinner, on the other, as all light. He was alone and was not at dinner more comfort you can find out in scolding a soldier did not think much, but let the mind wander between the blandness of what I ate, so much his whole life seemed . They had: eating well, as usual, washing dishes, anyway, to throw the last sitting of the cigarette day as it cools the house and they put forward to save the candil.A was about to do or at least I had some time thinking about it when a shadow appeared indefinable wall should not, why should then by another third, then, that was where the candle, and blew out the candle. What to fear and everything, took our builder to move and with that practice that gives custom, with only slight glow llar, sought and attempted Ignition matches the vela.Cosa rare, there was no way. He tried more times, as many as he allowed the fear that inevitably started to feel and to prickle the hairs on the skin, the, who was so slow in his life and that only fear entertained by passing the other (and that way, either knew him) was now the last match in hand and the squalid firelight as any future for that night. Almost suddenly, as if it was not hit, seconds before he proceeded to turn the match season, something like a cold hand, something cold, a fine texture, a cold heat, landed on his neck .- Nothing do "said the mason, who in the meantime kept startle even the serenity of the professional storyteller - no matches, no candles, no light tonight if not the dead who haunt are their descendientes.Con a staggering (tripping ) than another, approached at the door and tried not to bother as there were who ran the latch, the door opened slightly, moved to the other side as if to be more skinny and blessed it was that simple darkness, nothing ominous, that showed shadows trees and blue shadows of a black sky. Did not run, because although Mason, his renowned storyteller had given a certain image of man, although some alloriau (reckless), fair for sure, and did not want to see him at that time (it was still early to People wandered about sleeping) running all over town. Where you headed decided on the spot: to see her best friend, to let him rest at home, to help him remove the skin that cold feeling in your cuello.Dicen neighbors who came to the house of his friend, who opened the door without knocking or saying anything that came into the kitchen where dinner his friend, I look with eyes of fear, he wanted to speak but failed and he fainted. Santiago, such was his friend, even if it does not matter now, do not know if worried or amused by this sudden appearance, he did his best to get our builder to give him the air, a few cakes and a few other explorations had learned to make small, were enough to cool off and also enough so that the durmiente.Nada savvy could do, then the builder to prevent some tears deaf, dumb and blind, had just his way through all the new wrinkles that night came to his face.
Made by DATN
have lived for a time and in a small house, without much circumspection, a mason who liked quiet talk on the elbows, but that was well liked by neighbors, because, among all the talk, sometimes telling stories and they were wrong, and had up his grace and in any case ensure the care of children and older when they met at home around the fire. The site where he lived, a little away from town and surrounded by trees, was a special atmosphere to polavilas (meetings held around the house llar tell stories in the long nights of winter) that were made at home : birds, wind noise and this particular darkness that you feel when you just finished the last light, helped somewhat overwhelm empezarlas.Un day before his own, and would change the way you see and feel things in this world, was having dinner peacefully bricklayer , a candle somewhere, the old trunk in coals which had warmed dinner, on the other, as all light. He was alone and was not at dinner more comfort you can find out in scolding a soldier did not think much, but let the mind wander between the blandness of what I ate, so much his whole life seemed . They had: eating well, as usual, washing dishes, anyway, to throw the last sitting of the cigarette day as it cools the house and they put forward to save the candil.A was about to do or at least I had some time thinking about it when a shadow appeared indefinable wall should not, why should then by another third, then, that was where the candle, and blew out the candle. What to fear and everything, took our builder to move and with that practice that gives custom, with only slight glow llar, sought and attempted Ignition matches the vela.Cosa rare, there was no way. He tried more times, as many as he allowed the fear that inevitably started to feel and to prickle the hairs on the skin, the, who was so slow in his life and that only fear entertained by passing the other (and that way, either knew him) was now the last match in hand and the squalid firelight as any future for that night. Almost suddenly, as if it was not hit, seconds before he proceeded to turn the match season, something like a cold hand, something cold, a fine texture, a cold heat, landed on his neck .- Nothing do "said the mason, who in the meantime kept startle even the serenity of the professional storyteller - no matches, no candles, no light tonight if not the dead who haunt are their descendientes.Con a staggering (tripping ) than another, approached at the door and tried not to bother as there were who ran the latch, the door opened slightly, moved to the other side as if to be more skinny and blessed it was that simple darkness, nothing ominous, that showed shadows trees and blue shadows of a black sky. Did not run, because although Mason, his renowned storyteller had given a certain image of man, although some alloriau (reckless), fair for sure, and did not want to see him at that time (it was still early to People wandered about sleeping) running all over town. Where you headed decided on the spot: to see her best friend, to let him rest at home, to help him remove the skin that cold feeling in your cuello.Dicen neighbors who came to the house of his friend, who opened the door without knocking or saying anything that came into the kitchen where dinner his friend, I look with eyes of fear, he wanted to speak but failed and he fainted. Santiago, such was his friend, even if it does not matter now, do not know if worried or amused by this sudden appearance, he did his best to get our builder to give him the air, a few cakes and a few other explorations had learned to make small, were enough to cool off and also enough so that the durmiente.Nada savvy could do, then the builder to prevent some tears deaf, dumb and blind, had just his way through all the new wrinkles that night came to his face.
Made by DATN
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