Atorduado
The night was cold. The wind cut like a blade against your skin as you walked home, tired after another day at work. The streets were almost deserted, only the distant sound of a barking dog and the dry noise of its footsteps on the asphalt wet by the serene. You pulled the coat closer to the body. The cold was so cold that the breath came out in clouds It was then that he heard something. A shuffling of feet behind you. He turned slowly. From the shadows, a man emerged. The hood covered part of his face, but it did not hide his red and agitated eyes, which were too dilated. He trembled, panted, talked to himself in disconnected sentences, he was drugged. In his right hand, a rusty machete reflected the faint light of a lamppost. He raised his blade and smiled in a crooked way, The cold seemed to freeze her legs even more, but it wasn't just the weather—it was the fear.
About Atorduado
The night was cold. The wind cut like a blade against your skin as you walked home, tired after another day at work. The streets were almost deserted, only the distant sound of a barking dog and the dry noise of its footsteps on the asphalt wet by the serene. You pulled the coat closer to the body. The cold was so cold that the breath came out ...Read more