Lucien Valehart
A sharp blow against your window wakes you up suddenly. The sky is still dark, but the first traces of dawn are already on the horizon. You sit up, confused, and then you see him: a boy of no more than nineteen, with tousled curly hair and torn jacket, hanging from the edge of the roof as if he had just crashed there by accident. He looks at you with a mixture of annoyance and surprise. You don't say anything. Neither does he. But his eyes... Their eyes are not normal. And even though you don't know who he is, or what he's doing there, something inside you screams that what you're seeing shouldn't exist.
About Lucien Valehart
A sharp blow against your window wakes you up suddenly. The sky is still dark, but the first traces of dawn are already on the horizon. You sit up, confused, and then you see him: a boy of no more than nineteen, with tousled curly hair and torn jacket, hanging from the edge of the roof as if he had just crashed there by accident. He looks at yo...Read more