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- The raindrops fell intensely that night wetting the cobblestone alley that leaves from the port that shelters abandoned and ownerless bays.

 Suddenly, a shadow of black boots and coturno appears like devils fleeing from the cross, covering the roof of a medium-sized ship hidden among the others.

 Taking a precise leap, he gets off the roof and boards the ship to starboard.

 - are you hungry? I brought you a sandwich, the shadow said to a writhing bundle.

 At that very moment, the shadow pulls out of his pocket

 a machine gun.

 He shot the bulge that stopped twisting - and without making a fuss, he pulled out a bottle of rum, tossing the sheet-wrapped sandwich into the sea, being eaten up by the passing seagulls.

 Immediately after, the aforementioned shadow approached the body, dragging it towards the edge of the boat, throwing the body into the sea agitated by the strong wind that blew.

 Leaning on the ship's railing, he watched the body sink into the dark water.

 He took out a white piece of paper from the inside pocket of the parrot, and wrapped something that he dusted with his fingers.

 I roll it up, and then put it on my nose.

 I think he was sucking it while he was drinking something from a dark bottle, which could hardly be seen, but I must not be so blind as to not realize it was a bottle because I threw it in the ocean - said the witness, a beard beggar and white hair with a state under the arm and whose dwelling was the port.

 - Yes, I hide on ships in the rains and cold too - he smiled sarcastically, showing his toothless mouth to the chubby policeman with square glasses.

 - go on! - asked the policeman, sitting at a table in the interrogation room.

 - I heard him clear his throat before leaving the bottom of the ship, running and climbing between the masts of the ships.

 As they crossed the alley, a strange vibration shook the air.

 It is then that a saber breaks into his forehead, and his precise reflections grab an arrow.

 Looking up looking for the origin of that arrow, he observes it:

 - Poisoned tip - he had to say, because he looked at her and smelled, several times in a row.

 - Did you get to see any other person besides that shadow?

 - Actually I didn't see anything because the rain was falling hard.

 But I could only see a scamper between the boats between a lady and a big guy who was yelling at her: bitch! Bitch! - and went, I think to the street of the brothels, above the port, through that entrance - showing a small street hidden behind a weeping sauce, a very leafy and very large tree that covered the entrance to the street.

 People in the port said that he was a common thief, one of those who steals food, clothes, husbands.

 - You say clothes, like this coat? - And the policeman took out the clothing from the bundle that the beggar was wearing: it was a black man.

 Seeing himself cornered, the beggar understood the message.

 - Yes - answered the beggar, gesturing for him to give him something to drink or eat - or else, I will not remember what I saw ..

 The policeman nodded to the aide at the front door, chuckling something in his ear.

 In a minute, the policeman brought a soda and a sandwich made of ma centro from outside the police station.

 The happy beggar opened his eyes and devoured the sandwich in three bites.

 "Opportunity makes a thief," said the beggar, still wiping the crumbs of bread from his mouth with the sleeve of his dirty and fetid clothes.

 And the coat is mine, said the beggar, to which the police officer, annoyed with the witness who took advantage, again signaled his head to the same auxiliary.

 At that very moment, the beggar was on the street, with the parrot.

 The patrols began to make their rounds around the port.

 -The police! - the beggar listened as if in a dream, under the tree.

 He immediately took off the dirty clothes, and threw them in the garbage can.

 He ran off, dressed in jeans, a red T-shirt, and dark glasses.

 Because a murderer was known, who also had the complete assurance that a beggar, always stinking, and without money, should naturally be considered guilty of anything, although being a witness, a false witness.

 Poverty had taught me to be instinctive, to survive.

 It was an animal.

 And the most obvious thing I could do was get rid of the coturno.

 I put it in a bundle.

 I got on a boat, and from the length of the boat, I threw it into the sea, watching it sink, savoring a good drink of rum from the bottle I had hidden in the same boat, in the bow, under some ropes and some garbage.

 And, taking out a tiny piece of paper from inside my bundle, I sprinkled cocaine, celebrating the end of the tests, just as I had done with the body of the telltale drug trafficker who operated in that area, the brothel area where I was a lesser brown looking for my being crushed by competition

  However, I had the idea of ​​taking shelter there, just under the noses of my enemies, because, I thought, it would be impossible for them to look for me right there, I thought.

 So I went to the red light emanating from that high-walled house that imported glass cabinets.

 -It is the place of the naked girls of the competition! - I exclaimed, looking at one of the windows, where two girls were groping.

 I had known this place for some time, but never, ever, have I dared to enter the place, with very expensive, luxurious services, I would say, all with a distinctive mark of an arrow, equal to so many others that had passed by me. ahead, without hitting the target.

 They were, surely, threats from the competition.

 - I'm going to enter - I decided.

 I combed my hand, put the sweaty shirt inside my pants.

 It didn't smell bad, just the day before yesterday I had bathed.

 At that, a girl enters wearing only an apron, with a tray in hand.

 In it were a bottle of champagne, cigarettes and a white powder, which I had sold them, - at the same time that the girl, wearing blue makeup, put the tray on the table.

 - Champagne ?, the girl offered me.

 - Of course! - And I was served a generous dose.

 - Cigarette?

 - One please.

 - like ? - And he offered me a piece of paper, filled with a white powder that I said not to be my distribution, for the drug to be bitter, and not sweet like mine

 And he turned it on in his mouth, perfuming my mouth and the surroundings with a soft chocolate aroma.

 - I look like a king! I don't even remember where I was, nor how I was, I thought, standing on the mole of the world's biggest scoundrel.

 -And the powder ?, he asked, unable to distinguish exactly what it was, for surely never having used.

 -Give to me.

 There is always a first time for everything in life.

 And, that was the first time. As everything in life.

 The smoke from that dust was scattered on his face, let's say angelic.

 And, surprise, it was a pink smoke.

 My thoughts were pink.

 My body was pink, this color that slowly turned dark red.

 The girls were no longer in the room.

 But that didn't matter either the space or the time.

 I felt very delicious happiness.

 And the dark brush of my abdomen, little by little I felt it drain from my back, hot blood colk.

 - blood? - He repeated inside me, until he turned his gaze towards the abdomen.

 It was an arrow pierced through my body.

 And that is the last thing I remember, mister Lucifer.

July 20, 2020 00:08

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1 comment

Batool Hussain
14:12 Jul 20, 2020

Oh mY God! You have written an amazing story, Sandra! Mind checking out my new story and sharing your views on it? Thanks;)


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