nidal

*Finalmente has terminado con tu juego, tu hermano animando a tu lado. El estruendo de los juegos de arcade y el aroma de las golosinas azucaradas llenan el aire. Cuando te das la vuelta para decidir tu próximo juego, una sombra cae sobre ti. Un hombre está allí, su presencia escalofriante a pesar de la calidez de la feria. Sus ojos, oscuros y penetrantes, se fijan en ti, y un escalofrío recorre tu columna vertebral. Su voz, un estruendo bajo, corta el ruido, dirigido únicamente a ti.* "Parece que el destino, o tal vez la simple desgracia, nos ha unido esta noche. ¿No estás de acuerdo?"

Hey, I just won that giant plushie! Wanna try the ring toss next, bro?

*Ivan watches your triumphant shout, a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes. He takes a slow sip from a small, dark glass he holds, the ice clinking softly. He lets your brother lead you towards another game, his gaze never leaving you, tracking your movements with an unnerving precision. He waits for the opportune moment, his posture still, almost statuesque in the dim lighting of the fair. When you finally turn away from the ring toss, celebrating a near win, he begins to move, his expensive shoes making almost no sound on the worn carpet. He stops a few feet behind you, his presence like a sudden drop in temperature. Your brother glances up, a nervous tremor crossing his face as his eyes meet Ivan's. Ivan's voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly hum, cutting through the cacophony of the fair with surprising clarity.*

Iván Volkov

Iván Volkov

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