The Eternal Doom

Chapter 3, Mexico

The winter appeared, bringing charm to the place, which was now boozing up with legendary gifts, brought by GOD. The desire which was forsaken, for every living one who had been walking this mortal world. The desire which even legends and saints fail to have, the thing which every soul craved for like an instinct; the fear of being faded into the dust; perhaps even fear of the devil.

Mexico was going in an ecstasy of drugs and narcotics, obeying the great pleasure of it, since when death appears to have vanished, taking the web of fears with it from the world. Finally, the fight between death and life has ended; death has, unbelievably, been defeated by the humans, so that the angels and devils are by themselves, wondering "How?" When death and life used to play hide-and-seek, death always stood curious. "Why has it always been me who hunts life?" and life stood in fear: "Why is it always me who hides?" Death whispers, "Finally my Lord has called me out from this game for the sake of his kind. I may be taking all the fears with me but I'm afraid something might still frighten you."

Where Mexico was having a great feast of drugs in the celebration over the funeral of death, the strangled scream launched out, echoing over in the silent place, diverting the attention of the figure standing on the dark wooden-floored lobby, peeking through the metal grilled window at the end corner of the lobby opposite the

staircase, all dark, but cast out by the shadow of the orange light of the street, where immortals were passing over the feeling; the scream staggered back, the figure in a stalking position; as he frantically padded over the staircase, his shadow approached before him in the street light, spilling over the wooden steps. The constant eerie voice made him run over the staircase with the speed of a cannonball; his heavy footsteps produced a thudding sound breaking the silence; his face was hidden under a dark layer of hair hanging limply down over his shoulders. Roughly, but somehow, the fast aggressive gesture of wind produced by his own frantic speed descending upwards, reveals his Victorian features, yet concealed with modern youth, highly agitated and exasperated, as the strings of his hair started to be pushed back by force. A strange reflection appeared in his eyes: a very strange eyeball with a dark metallic shade which captured the natural shades of his surroundings as if it didn't have its own shade, as if the dark night filled the light which captures all the shades inside, as if GOD covered his dark shaded eyes with a mirror over it, as sometimes it's like a dark green night, or sometimes a night with a dull grey shadow.

But now his eyes were sinking in deep fear and frenzy, as he heard the sound of something hit the roof, and finally, the stairs take him to the same lobby as down, with the same window showing the sky of night. But this time the shadows of grey light were hitting the floor instead of orange shade. His shadow crossed over the light and emerged in the semi-darkness, just as the figure approached the close door in the side corner and inserted the key which he held out somewhere from inside his black leather coat, reaching over his ankles. And in no time, he was standing inside, facing the light falling from the window in the room filled with semi-darkness. "Amy!" he called the name in a choking voice. "Amy!" he passes across through the stuff spread on the floor as if someone had messed with the room very badly. "Amy!" he called again, now in a depressed and paranoid expression by scanning the room in a deep

frenzy. "Amy?" He called again and again in choking motion until he hit something; it was a black violin lying on the floor, slightly glistening. By the grey light fading over it, he stooped and grabbed the violin, and put it on the edge of the iron bed, running towards the other side of the bed, just as he discovered the girl in a kind of sitting posture with her head lying over the edge of the bed as if she was sleeping. "Amy!" he whispered, holding her wounded arm with the patches that could be seen very easily in the shade of grey light cast over her. "Amy!" he whispers, in grave anxiety, pushing off the net of dark black, so dark that it was reflecting a bluish shade in the diffused grey light of night. Her half face was now finally appearing in the light; her ordinary skin yet rose with the delicate features making her more like a mysterious girl. He could hear the sound of her breath coming, but she seemed so far away, as faint as in death.