drunk walked unsteadily, swinging the heavy ass (fat ass? - you asked - it is then that the publisher refuses to me the words?) squeezed into a miniskirt ridiculous. The heels made her stumble at every step, forcing her to lean on each signal or streetlight he met. He followed her in the shadows, as silent as a panther, a stealthily. The people that you met shunned laughing. He then, when he saw other people, not stepped back to make it clear that he followed. At one point she turned down a dark and deserted alley. It was the occasion! He caught behind with his right hand and pressed her palm on the mouth. Then he pushed her against the wall crumbling (shabby: yes I like it). His head struck against the freshly painted plaster with a TOC sound but her hair blond straw muffle the sound. She looked terrified and he, grinning, he pulled out his pocket knife that triggered with a click. The blood flowed from the head wound on his hair as he began his ritual. She knew she would die. He understood that it would soon become the third victim of what the newspapers called the killer of the killer and the cops blonde fat washed out. He passed the knife sulla fronte procurandole una ferita lacero contusa orizzontale da cui uscirono fiotti di sangue che le coprirono gli occhi azzurrastri. Lei fece per gridare, ma la bocca era stretta dalla morsa di acciaio, e non uscì niente. Allora lui col coltello le procurò una profonda incisione verticale, sempre sulla fronte, e formò la croce, il suo marchio. Poi con la lama scese sul naso, mentre il sangue scorreva come un ruscello, e con un colpo ben assestato gli tagliò la punta. I suoi occhi urlavano muti di terrore mentre la lama…
«Hai visto questa? – lo interruppe come una furia sua moglie gettandogli una bolletta in faccia - E’ la luce: scaduta da un mese. Non dovevi andare all’ufficio postale stamattina?»
«Non ho avuto tempo… Un capitolo importante, non potevo lasciarlo a metà»
«Figurarsi, un capitolo importante!»
…mentre la lama si infilava tra l’occhio sinistro e il naso. Arrivata in profondità, con un secco movimento del polso le cavò l’occhio che penzolò sulla guancia attaccato solo ad un fascio di nervi. Il sangue scorreva come un torrente mentre il suo occhio rimasto urlava muto di panico. Allora passò all’altro, non prima di aver reciso, con un taglio netto, i nervi che reggevano l’occhio sinistro facendolo cadere a terra e schiacciandolo col tacco. Ripetette l’operazione con il destro e adesso due caverne sanguinolente lo guardavano spettrali gridando mute with terror. Then came down with the blade and with one stroke opened his shirt clutching the huge tits (boobs? It's not that then I take away the things of sex?) From cow. He then began to saw the roof (maybe if I say breast is best) the right breast like a salami. Breast PLOF and fell to the ground by him, kicked, threw away the box of unrecycled to a stray dog \u200b\u200band we immediately rushed over and took it away. He repeated the operation with each other. The blood flowed. The fat blonde now no longer standing and was holding him, his grip of steel on the mouth, holding her upright pressed against the plaster crumbling freshly repainted. But the ritual was not yet finished. This brought down on the pavement and a knife ...
"Today was on sale for all competitions. Look, take the City '
"We talked about it a thousand times: I can not put myself to study for a competition, I have the book to end.."
"And you can not write while studying or working? There's a lot of people working in the bank and wrote.. "
"But they are amateurs: a true writer is different. It takes time, concentration, can not be distracted .... "
'Writer! But how can you call yourself a writer if you've never published a book? ".
"This book goes well, will sell, I can feel it. All the great writers have found it difficult at first.. "
"I say every time, you will have written ten, at least, we're married. All there, in the closet, the only one who has read them. "
... with a knife slashed the skirt. She was still alive, twitching on the pavement. He then plunged the knife between her thighs. The blood gushed like a waterfall and she stopped moving. He struck again and again in anger until between the thighs of the woman opened a cave from which tore off flesh with their hands and bodies. Only then he was quite satisfied. He cleaned the knife in her hair blondish, closed it in the neck and, grinning, put his knife in his pocket.
'E do you plan with that keyboard, I have to go to work early tomorrow morning, I - I looked up at the ceiling - is not only a failed good for nothing, is too noisy. " Then he stared a long time, disgusted with his eyes off of that blue, washed out, surrounded by a mane of yellow hair color shapeless tow. "Good for nothing," she repeated again, even more pronounced with contempt, before turning to walk and clumsy and heavy to the bedroom, proceeding with difficulty, with the sagging and swaying hips at every step.
listening to Count Raven
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