Saint Spirit

by Quelli di ZEd

more to do to less. My Mrs., bushels making an attempt to the patience of your darlings. Then you have made to systematize from another, this doesn't do me certain favor. Would you want to also throw to me an ugly joke?the man " whispered, to a volume as soon as perceivable from the outside, then of sudden a thunder exploded by his/her mouth.

  "Dafne!"

  You/he/she had found some air in that bellows emptied by the iniquity of the life to pronounce once more that powerful symbol that represented her name. But there was not any echo, anybody answer to lick up his/her hearing, orphan of her. It approached to the pale countess and it tried to arouse her/it from that gloomy sleep, but not as soon as its polpastrellis grazed her the lifeless cheeks, the glacial cold mortifero it seemed to break him with a roaring lightning of sentence all the veins of his unadorned I mantle. It was the eternity to send away the ignominy of his/her unworthy deadly body. You/he/she would not have been able anymore to have some contact with her, the seal of the absolute one you/he/she had been engraved forever on the last door of contact among that two Spirits. You/he/she was ended, forever, definitely, a certain separation as the contours around the mystery that we call Death.

  XLIV

  It was the evening of one of the endless dimensions of the absolute one, Saint opened the eyes, there was a white sky to overhang him/it. The relativity of a light to the neon reflected him opaque on the metallic framework in front of him that it labored to recognize. You looked around disorientated. A that of terror took possession him of him, the right hand it was felt and smiled. It had his/her hand. After an indefinite time the contours of that place became him known: it was a room of hospital. Softly it tried to rise again from the bed, but a warm voice of woman invited him/it to stay stretched out. The occultist turned him toward the door where a cinquantenne had entered that, according to one its glance, had to personify before the part of a physician. Glasses from the loyal fitting and a white white uniform of ordinance constituted the first elements that you/they immediately jumped to the eyes of an observer. That figure was so much descent in its role of physician to become almost invisible beyond its profession.

  "Coop calm, Black signor, has now only to rest. There is not anything of which must worry, but for this night we will hold her/it here under observation."

  Is it possible that every whenever Saint reopened the eyes, was it always found of forehead a new scenery to have to face? It was exhausted, it had need than at least a week of complete monotony.

  "Doctor, can be so kind to explain me everything, considering that I don't absolutely remember anything?"

  The physician scrutinized him/it worried.

  "He/she knows to call Saint Black?"

  "Certain! For now I still know my name, they miss here me correct the preceding events to my arrival."

  The doctor drew a breath of relief.

  "Oh, badly! You were at work when you/he/she has had a shortcoming and you/he/she has fainted beating violently in earth. Of the ugly wounds you/he/she is gotten in face, of which however you/he/she must not be worried, will want us some time but they will perfectly recover. It also has the scene and the sixth right rib cracked, always because of the fall. A cerebral damage immediately is supposed, considering that she has labored a lot before taking back knowledge, but the tac has not underlined any lesion, therefore I suppose that its brain has taken advantage of the situation to detach the thorn and to rest some. Know, it sometimes happens to the hyperactive people, all of a sudden the mind autonomously decides, against the wish of the owner that exploits too much her put on in stand-by!"

  Saint stared at her/it to open mouth, not so much for what was telling him speaking of its trauma, how much rather for the cause of the wounds that was gotten. You/he/she had not absolutely fallen to job, or better, even if all of a sudden you/he/she had fainted to the morgue, surely those wounds if it brought behind her from at least two hours before. A family shiver crossed his back. He/she remembered him that drop of sweat that challenged upward the gravity ripercorrendo his/her backbone from the lower part. In that breaker it had of forehead the image of the sbriciolamento of the artificial world of Boscocittà. Now, how much those vicissitudes were distant that had exhausted him/it over every limit. It was abducted from an uncontrollable anxiety. It got up of release from the bed.

  "Where my suits are?"

  "Coop I calm, Black signors, are in the locker."

  Then Saint opened wide the shutter. It rummaged in the pants, it found you the portfolio, the keys of house and nient'altro.

  "The keys of the auto! Where am I/you/they?"

  "Signor Neri, this is a serious hospital! Evidently when you/they have brought her here it didn't already have her. And now he put back, is a purely professional suggestion!" sbottò the doctor, going out of the vexed room.

  Saint focused for remembering the succession of the last events engraved in its memory. It saw the tamponamento in tail again, the colluttazione with a man and his/her escape. It was obvious that the keys had remained you insert in the picture of the auto. Also returning now back, you/he/she would not have found the mean anymore, surely removed by the police it sews together on the place. It now looked for hopelessly signs to testimony of the truthfulness of his/her life. To the sudden one it not only warned distant the world of Sabrina, but even everything of his/her mistake with the beautiful countess.

  "Oh my God, Dafne! I have touched her in this dimension, had really died!"

  You nervously a hand to suffocate the hoarse cry of pain that exhaled from the deepest part of himself. The tears made him/it blind for some instants, it slowly restarted then to see the forms of that narrow world that it surrounded him/it again. You dressed. Escaped out, I pour another truth the nth one! If inevitability was already manifested other times relative, you/he/she would also have had to still respect this characteristic of his. It was a hope nient'altro. It came again in front of the morgue. This time entered platealmente, regardless of the colleagues that jolted seeing him/it to him ripiombare before so early. "Black, does thing do us here?"

  Saint didn't have neither explanations, neither words for anybody, his only objective was the room where you/he/she had seen for the last time Dafne. Crossed the corridor in hurry and fury and it opened wide after all the last door. It launched a cry of terror. It returned back and it shouted to the address of the colleagues that you/they looked at him/it frightened, as if they had to whether to do with a ghost.

  "Where the countess is Monteghini?"

  "Who?they " did them in choir.

  "The woman in the room fifteen."

  The most elderly of the men advanced of some footstep setting himself/herself/itself threatening to few Saint centimeters.

  "After his/her sumptuous funeral I believe has already walled up her in his/her beautiful chapel of family, don't you find? Black, six a maniac crazy person, has for a long time the suspect that sweeps here your death inside and you now comes even there to shout against, as if we had stolen your fidanzatina of turn from you. If could chase yourself from this place, would have taken a long time ago already you to kicks in the culo!"

  Saint whitened. It was not possible. It missed him of hit the air; it went out out of run to breathe the coolness of that atrocious evening. More tears plentifully ploughed him the face. He/she cried for the loss of his/her divine lover, that realized now only to infinitely have beloved. You/he/she had passed together you the last three years of his/her life and now, in front of the horrendous discovery of his/her death, the stregua was treated to of an extraneous, of a crazy person that chatters senseless words. Anybody among the few people that belonged to the sphere of his/her narrow world he/she knew about the bond that intervened between the countess and he. It strongly started to doubt of his/her mental health. It crossed the melancholy Gorini plaza, now clear of of the autos that as soon as a handful of times they horribly saturated her/it before. It reached an automatic distributor of cigarettes. It had need to inflict to the jail that represented his/her body a symb
olic action of punishment to leastly satisfy a conscious thirst of self-destruction that it enveloped him/it extremely. The devastating nihilism that was briskly reaffirmed in its mind in that instants, crowned him/it of a cold lucidity. Shortly it realized that the only anchors that you/they could still connect him/it to the countess they were all you imprison in the pompous villa Monteghini, to pact that this really existed as him he/she believed to remember her/it. He/she called a taxi and it made him bring out of town to the address where in his/her mind it was certain to find that family place. He/she asked to the taxi driver to stay a little before and to attend him/it. Crossed the few hundred meters that you/they divided him/it from the entrance of the villa afoot, laboring to check the throb of the emotions that you/they broke him the breath. The entrance and the enormous wood that composed the garden of the villa making her/it invisible from the outside were perfectly identical to as it imagined them in its memoirs. The only ones to be able to recognize him/it would have been the butler, the driver and the group of waiter that to turn it came to tidy up the enormous abode Monteghini. Just while Saint took courage to play the intercom, glances firm a pair of autos of the Policemen to side of the avenue of the villa. It grew in