Mount And Blade How To Get More Soldiers

The Weaver of Shadows [Original] The Weaver of Shadows

Title: The Weaver of Shadows
Fandom: Original
Author: body-ko
Rating: R
Word Count: 11,787
Summary: Unfortunately I was a bit 'the victim of circumstances, you must understand that I really had to deal with creatures terrible, and the mere fact that he kept his sanity is a real impertinence on my part.
Written by: F3.UCKS Fest of fanfic_italia
Notes: this story takes the plot of "The infernal desire machines of Doctor Hoffman" by A. Carter is probably more comparable to a fanfic in which an original. Angela Carter was a genius, more than in literature, he was in life and the admiration I have for this beautiful English lady is huge. Of one thing I regret, and it's not like her at all.
Too bad, it will be for the next life.

Before the war, I really thought that I would spend my life in my city, with a wife, a house, a mortgage to pay. In short, it was what everybody did? Why I should be different? Coll'avvento the absurdity of war has engulfed everybody, but even when the conflict ended, my situation has not improved. Many of those who survived, they have completely erased the memory, and returned to the roles that were reserved for them the beginning of time, start as a swarm of mice enchanted by the melody of the piper, towards the abyss swallow them all. For me, nothing is to be returned as it was, live in exile and I'll die too, if you can still die and I'm struck more than once the question of having passed that line without even realizing it. Unfortunately, I was a bit 'the victim of circumstances, you must understand that I really had to deal with terrible creatures, and the mere fact that he kept his sanity is a real impertinence on my part.
are doomed to never see again my city, although it was me to save her, because I have a handsome man who wants me dead in the ribs. Nor do I believe that's enough "know myself" dead, by accident or wear: he will not be satisfied unless calm my stubbornness with his own hands to survive.
Yes, it is a personal matter, I do not see how could it be, since I have stolen his wife.

Let me introduce myself.
My name is Amedeo and dreams were a problematic issue for me before they go to war against the human race.
In my youth I had a recurring dream: I was underwater and breathing through gills that I had grown up on the neck. I tried doggedly to get back to the surface, but the weight of the water kept me on the ocean floor, and when I could win the waters and see the sun again, it was only to discover that the world was no longer there: was over, perhaps destroyed, the human race extinct and I was the only one left, the last of the men, although the gills. Suddenly a black tide overwhelms me, oil and death, I ended up under water again and this time I could not breathe and save me from death reached him: the sea serpent creature of gold and silver, sharp fangs, feral eyes, mouth and took me in, flying in the deep ocean, to leave death behind and finally, looking at me with eyes full of sweetness, sank its teeth into sharp my body. I would wake up screaming, and with the sheets soaked in sperm.
I do not know when the dream was started but never finished.

I was born and raised in the city of P., that our adversary, the evil Lucien, he chose as his first goal of his campaign of conquest, we had to be the glove in the face of the Confederation of Cities, the demonstration of the power Lucien, his challenge, his promise. I never knew why we, at the bottom of our city was only a frontier outpost that its economy was based on the textile industry and production of Xanax: of Indeed, what must have been the scene of its majestic entry into the scene, turned out to be the proverbial banana peel. The power of Lucien
time was consistent: he had found a way to realize their dreams. At first we did not know how we could, to date there are too few to get an idea of the truth, there were rumors of a mysterious machine, but in fact - once the enemy was defeated - all were very happy to know as little as possible. Basically, my city was invaded by a multitude of mirages delusional, crazy, absurd. I remember the judge
dancing naked on the table of the inn, women hung upside down to elder trees, and I remember the crack cocaine that were sold to the market and the widespread control of every citizen by the police, remember the nervousness of military, I remember the dead and gone, remember the ghosts and the fires in the streets, the masked men in their processions, and miserable, short sermon praising the end of each ideology **.

I remember everything, and I do not need to close their eyes to return to that dark period, yet to feel that power, and the frantic energy that reality to make it too bright, because the human eye could support the view, without paying the price, without losing my mind . In fact, I have every day before our eyes the flames of hell on earth, the sweet surrender to destruction, the subtle pleasure of destruction and death welcomed as a liberation, however, always reborn, incredulous and bewildered, into the world of perception, without knowing that it never really, what shred of humanity I have left.

I was but a lad of sixteen then, with eyes blue against which I could not do anything and blond hair that, unbeknownst to everyone, tinged with black. I worked as a laborer in a textile factory and I loved to dance. I can not in good conscience say that I love my city, I never thought of it that was more an inevitability of belonging, it was my home, probably was best in the world, and worse, but what is not mine I've always cared very little.
am the son of a foreigner with blond hair that I have never known, back across the border after my mother got pregnant girl, and all my people always told me wonders of this superman who had dissolved over the horizon, as a kind of redeemer or a mythological figure. I actually never cared anything about him. The truth is that I do not have a father and it was absurd to want me to fill in that stubborn head of dreams and illusions.
Well, I always loved the reality, as I have always believed that his actions that make a man and that actions speak louder than the truth. I enlisted in the army when the war began almost a year now, not because I loved the military life, but because this madness must be stopped and the old Master of Arms was one he shared with me little love for the bullshit. We
militia adopt a dual strategy to limit the damage. On the one hand, we were instructed to smash all the mirrors in the city, they were the window through which the power of Lucien was spreading, incurable endemic among the population, then, reinforced the city walls to keep out what it was outside and inside what was inside: could not allow the pandemic became endemic. So, we lived in a state of siege could prevent the enemy from out of town, but we did not know how to fight it, because you fight something evil that is within us. Lucien

agents within the city tried to find it, especially after I became the assistant of the Master was a bit 'as with the non-story of my father who did not tickle my vanity saying I was bound to succeed, I would become one of those men who make the difference in the world, saying that all I would have admired, believe all these fine prospects has always been beyond my ability. Basically, the power of Lucien was ineffective on me because I always did theories, theories that later proved to be the truth and, by a person intimately as immodest in fact I am, I always esteemed my truth more than anyone else. Including that of the master of the world. So it was that on a long journey, I followed the river, climbed the high mountains and m'inoltrai deep in the forest, until he reached a temple, where we go to order ...
But I'll tell you from war ' start to finish, just tell the facts as they have done, and I will talk about the shadow that project and that, in my knowledge, set my hand and there I will discuss how a man like me, concealed by hypocrisy in his pride, is sentenced to serve a master first and then the other finding - in the meantime - the strength to accept his fate a slave. *

Xanax, an anti-depressant
** The Future, Leonard Cohen.



Chapter One
When it all started, I worked in the factory of Mr. G., we were mostly destined to the packaging and junk carded by coats. I lived with my mother in the house where I was born, I knew everyone in the neighborhood and everyone knew me: I was the son of the foreigner. 112 drove a green pea that I had bought with my first savings, and continually insulted because he was uncomfortable, noisy and unreliable, but it was also the only car I could afford.
Lucien began its invasion quietly filed and more strange things that happened as the benevolence of fate, or - alternatively - a sign of bad luck. In fact, when it began to spread the word that the blond foreigner had been seen in the Town Square, I thought of some drunken hallucination. By the way, I never understood the obsession with people for that man, I do not think it was anything special, it was just my father. The mother, in truth, was rather skeptical and told me that there was no chance that he came back. Sometimes, I imagined that my mother after mating he ate like a mantis, so I'm without a father. So I fantasized that he was bitter over the sky and the stars, because there is no token of love than be consumed by the biggest of your life. Yes, sometimes I was surprised I was full of crap in my tiny brain. How was the city

before changing? It seemed that does not ever change.
Grey, methodical, male as well as some cities are feminine: a city accustomed to work, the noise of the looms, the smell of filthy rags that more, more lousy, most were rags, and more were on invaluable for a people who knew how to waste the wealth of the whole earth.
Flags of every nation, uniforms of generals and soldiers of every army, and skirts as a priest, Monsignor stockings, purple, cardinals, judges in robes, coats of policemen, the cops, the prison guards, bridal veils, lace yellowed strips infants: all of us, and all in rags, was to finish the history of the world *.
Together with rags, the foreigners had come to work: it was a city rich mine, which had a constant need for labor and had the money to pay for it. Blacks, Chinese, Hispanics, Indians, all arrived in the city and made part of, as they had been there forever, and soon distinguished himself as a black man from an Asian or a white man, because everyone assumed the greyish color dust and time.
All the money I earned them I spent the weekend with friends, went dancing or to the sea for the weekend. One evening I went with my
112 to go to a party in the nearby city of F., I waited a long time that event because it sounded a group that was particularly good music 70. When I arrived, I sat at a table and I was kidnapped by the singer. I stared at the makeup on her face, her long hair floated around that the blacks and the feline grace which charmed all the spectators. With a bound went up on stage, wearing jeans full of members of glitter and began to sing his songs of darkness and delusion. It was fabulous, her band accompanied him from the stars and beyond, I had never seen anything so spectacular, really something out of the ordinary. He sang all night, evoking ghosts fascinating that materialized from the shadows and danced on stage with him: femme fatale that each of us spectators gazed with delight, climbed on chairs to catch a ghostly representation of that moment and that was when, for the first time, I realized that this was too much. The magical storyteller continued to trap the audience in a web of seduction and notes and I walked away to avoid being entangled in the web of illusions.
I found a woman and we made love in the back seat of my car **.

The invasion was gradual, beginning only little quirks that everyone listed as a distraction of the mind: a dead person that greeted me from across the street, the coffee machine, which gave me a good morning in the morning, the fat woman of Botero that came from his frame and I found it that she was swimming in my bathtub, the day after we attacked in the bathroom of the Pirelli calendar.
dreams of your neighbors you traveled all day to the apartment and in the end the only moment of peace was the night when asleep, and then you knew you were dreaming. By day, you do not understand anything, what was true and what was not were so intertwined they can not distinguish: a man threw a baby against the wall because he had a smile too natural to be authentic. There was a widespread phobia of hallucinations, which over time became increasingly powerful, increasingly common, and finally - the last stage of our defeat - tangible. The crimes increased, the city was no longer a safe place, a curfew was in force at night, robberies, rapes, violent crimes grew exponentially, and when a thief came into my house, killing my mother's face, taken my decision: I entered the army to try to stem the end the world.
The Armsman recruited the greatest scientists on which he could get his hands, locked them in a laboratory and refused to let them out until they had not found a way to fight and destroy these illusions. At first, we were completely unaware of the dynamics of the curse that had rained down on his head, then realized that the ghosts could be kept away and dispersed with salt: the militia began to go around with loaded guns and a salt chase the illusions began with our immeasurable satisfaction.
I was in the Town Square when it happened, we were doing a patrol with my team and I saw him: blond, skinny, his head sunk between his shoulders slightly, his hair disheveled, his blue eyes on a face sharp cheekbones. The instant I pointed against my sawed-off shotgun loaded with rock salt and fired.
"Ouch! You hurt me, "he said.
"Pig shit," I said looking at him in disbelief. It was then that we discovered that the illusions had become real.
"I am not an illusion," said the blond man who looked like me, like a drop of water.
"Believe me," I replied, "I you are. "
bring the prisoner from the Master at Arms who looked grim and began to question him. The man, the image, the dream was clearly stronger than any other picture we had encountered so far, on him the salt had no effect, we had to figure out what was the reason for this resistance, and the Master of & rsquo ; Arms called me because unfortunately I had a lot to do with the illusion quell'adone linked to blond. I explained the situation to my boss, I told him how many people dream of the mythical creature that had disappeared over the horizon with the promise to return one day with many sweets for all, and the load of faith and hope that many poured over him, and we knew that the collective illusions were refractory to treatment.
The blond man looked at me and I pretending indifference.
"You are incredibly beautiful," she said. I gave him a smile, all teeth and I do not degnai to give him an answer, he began to turn myself around, took my hand as I was a doll and pulled away, I touched her hair uncertain, moved away the hand, looked skeptical my uniform and I looked at him grimly.
"Well, you'd be my son."
"No, I'm not. "
"But if you just said that ...."
"I said are not true, you're a collective hallucination, I do not believe in you and I do not care anything about all the bullshit that Lucien is trying to sell me."
hallucination did not blink, in exchange, the Master at Arms looked at me thoughtfully, and I had forgotten about the time where I was, because if I had realized, I would have held, but the presence of shadow in front of terrible in my eyes I devolved a bit '. As far as I persist in denying it, there was a anger inside me that, at the sight of the blond mane so familiar, was afloat, and affects my ability to reason.
"Amadeus," said the Master at Arms, "how about doing a trip? '.

* Cursed Tuscans, Curzio Malaparte
** Lady Stardust, David Bowie


Chapter Two
The Master at Arms was ready to take advantage of any opportunity to grab even the most tenuous opportunities, but to defeat Lucien and m'incaricò to start with the secret mission to kill the enemy of all. Why me? There were several reasons: first of all, I was expendable, then I had shown an unusual resistance to illusions and intolerance of a certain mode of the ruthless offensive. Above all, the new weapon used by Lucien, illusions tangible, the evolution from mere shadow of its distortion of reality, a reality in themselves - as the infinite source of arms for his army? What overflowing threat to the entire human race? - All this took the form of a doll biodiversity, the lovable character, who followed me like a dog, and had the appearance of my lost father. I think this did me a preordained. When bad luck rages ... I watched this tiny little creature, vaguely feminine, and I felt overwhelmed by anxiety: I wanted so much a different father, a father who worked at the factory like everyone else, calloused hands and strong arms and a man not a boy, skin and hair as dark as all the fathers of the world, but my boy was a fragile, insecure, from the huge soft eyes that seemed to want me to devour.

The Armsman my father and I decided that we would leave together. My real nightmare is not fair I never came off the heels, and even came to my house and, while I prepared the luggage, he and my mother were downstairs. A look, I presume, because I can not imagine what could ever say. My mother is a strong woman, invincible, tough, and my father, on his side, had nothing but good looks and sweetness of character - people like us - she was used to estimate very little. I went downstairs, looked slightly dazed and my mother forty real image of my father barely twenty years old, my mother seemed distressed: of course it did not dispute the need for my trip, the Master at Arms had decided that I should leave and then I had to leave, but the idea I should accompany me with the puzzled man.
"He's not your father," she said calmly, repeating what he already had told me when she saw him.
"But I know I Met Your Mother," I blurted out in exasperation, "I know."
"Do not be confused," he continued without any sign of hearing me, "a trick" ;.
"Yes, all right," assented patient.
"I admit that looks like it," said fording either me and him, "but he's too young. He was your age, how could it be your father? ".
"It is not," I said.
"No, it's not," then added with a look of stone, "you are my son."
I looked deep into those eyes of blacks, his dark skin, her hair pulled severely, his stern expression: this right, so appropriate, so the daughter of his people and his time.
"Of course they are, and who else I should be son?" the calmed with a smile, then could not resist the temptation, because really, sometimes people make fun of how my mother is irresistible.
"You're taking on a greenish color, mother, hugs her and gave her a kiss on the cheek," the jealousy makes you wrinkles. "
Mother merely tightening the lips and did not deny, a flash of irony crossed his eyes.
"I have no wrinkles," he said, unperturbed.
looked at her, as I left, still and proud at the front door like a statue, beautiful in its coldness, icy and stern, dark coll'abito appropriate to a woman of her age that the wind was flapping around. I feared for the first time that I would not have the magazine and felt the desire to stop Lucien because in the end there was something I wanted to protect the city I had never loved.

My directives planned to go to the sea in the city of C., who was the appointed place to vacation of my fellow citizens. I left the city by a special pass that I had been provided by the Master at Arms and walked to my destination in search of the circus sideshow, where according to the information I had received, there was a man acquainted with the facts. Me and my mate came smiling into the deserted city, there was not a soul on the streets and the sky was an unnatural transparency, pleasant climate, if it were not for the war, the whole town would have already ; transferred to sunbathe in the air ass, listening to stupid music and planning tours and tournaments pinnacle.

Find the circus sideshow was not difficult, it seemed deserted, the sun had faded and worn from the weather. I went and saw the famous phenomena of which the Master at Arms had heard and which I had ordered an investigation. They were not that articles of wax from the human form, self-propelled puppet packaged in glass cases, and each aquarium was a different scene. One was a bedroom and a doll dressed in lace and ruffles lay languidly on a canopy bed and a huge dark-skinned doll such as oil and penetrated by huge cock with passion and precision mechanics, and another plays the internal a subway where a girl doll, dressed in a school uniform, while a crying doll man ate the thick-rimmed glasses had slipped his hand under her skirt and moved jerkily, in another aquarium there were two men in the play the bathroom of a train station, in the knee of the other's penis in his mouth and moved her head back and forth endlessly.

watched those representations of sexual passion, without passion, and I thought it was the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen. Those shapely legs and those breasts looked hard at all unrealistic, but by dint of watching those representations of desire, my perceptions began to blur. If at first those freaks had seemed nothing more than puppets botched soon my brain was filled with water and my body was subject to external stimuli, I became sensitive to air hot and heavy that one could breathe in that tent, in the light of oil lamps that reinforced the shadows rather than leave, and then smell that smell, the smell of sex that should not be: because those things that mimicked the ' sexual act were not human, they could not produce secretions. It was all very strange, I was a circle in the head, and my vision blurred, I thought that what was burning incense in the censer was not to be and that I had to move out of that trap when the man who laughs, l & rsquo ; too tangible image of my late father, I grabbed his arm and drew my attention to a woman, even a girl who was sleeping in a small room isolated from the main. It was not enclosed in a glass case, wearing a white nightgown lace curves showed that the immature. Her skin was white and his hair blond, his lips were heart-shaped arms and clutched a white teddy bear and pink. My desire was kindled instantly, brutal, treacherous as it is often the desire. Gently stroked her face because she was the only perfection made flesh, the skin was cold as marble, and let my hands slide over his body to warm it, I was hypnotized by long lashes while leaning over the pallid face, stick his tongue in the mouth. I opened my legs, bringing it to me, I unbuttoned the flap of his trousers and with a single shot penetrated the decision. Inside it was hot, throbbing, alive, concluded in a few powerful thrusts, drops of blood stained the virginal bed, my clothes, I looked at the sleeping beauty malicious, I tried his guilt in what happened, why it could not have, in lying there in the midst of all the perversions, exposed to the gaze of all men who passed by, my father grabbed me and dragged me back out of that hood overwhelming.

Lucien was a trap I was there and fell in full. I raped a defenseless little girl, I took her head in her hands, overcome with disbelief, while my father casually stroked his head, "It's not your fault," he said, "do not cry, you did not do anything wrong. E 'Lucien blame. "
I listened to him, as far as I was able to upset my mind, his words were balm for my soul and the fever was devouring me, my head was bursting and I could not keep my eyes open: I fainted and felt the drowsiness of the disease flow of water, opening eyes - in the rare moments of lucidity - I discovered that we were on a barge and were going up the River.


Chapter Three
I do not know how long I was prey to the fever, but when I woke up my hair had been cut short and had said goodbye to the fiction of their pitch black, to return to a insignificant blonde. My beard, the same color unlikely, it was long and well kept. In my life, I never brought the beard: I have always felt too young to seriously be able to afford all that hair in my face. The first time I saw myself in a mirror, I did not recognize. That was not the first time I had. Sometimes, walking through the streets of my city, I watched my reflection in shop windows and the man I saw was not me. A rather curious thing, to not recognize me, that happened to me before the war, before Lucien, first of all. Once I had crossed on a Magnolfi my mother, who came out where Moretti had bought bread, and I went and asked the time. She looked me straight in the face, then gave me the time, I asked if I could offer her a coffee, and she smiled politely but inflexible, I gave spades. I watched her go with her shopping bags, fully aware that my mother had recognized me.

I finished up one of the merchants of the river barges. I had no idea what strange twist of fate I had been picked up by those people so reluctant to open up to foreigners, but that was not my main concern. My father was gone, I could not imagine what could have happened to that idiot, but that alone would not survive a day. I tried to ask the woman who sometimes appeared to take me to my room to eat and deal with the thoroughness and professionalism of a nurse, my needs, but its language was minimal standards and refused to endeavor to understand me.

The women of the people of the river had face covered with heavy white makeup, shave his eyebrows completely and if painted with a black pencil in position much higher than they are in reality, this gave them an expression of perpetual surprise. His mouth was painted red cherry, a kind of small heart which sealed immense mouths without teeth, but in reality, they had teeth, but they used to paint them in black: the effect was staggering. Personally, I am terrified and never failed to curse my father for leaving me alone in the midst of these strange creatures. The first time one of those women I appeared before my eyes, I had a shot and thereafter, would be excessive to say that I was used to. The men, as far as I was able to see, did not live on the boats, which were reserved only for females of the tribes they inhabited the home port, where the mighty barges moored from time to time, in their perennial trace the course River.

As soon as I was recovered, threw me in a cage in the hold, with a mattress as a bed and a bucket for my needs. I tried to ask questions, to understand that those intentions were terrible witches and I taped over your mouth with a muzzle, I tried to wiggle and a female huge, square as a man, I dislocated my shoulder twisting behind his back, all my attempted rebellion was quelled with the icy spray of a fire hydrant that I lashed the naked body. I do not know how long I was helpless, stark naked, in pain and gagged inside the cage, but my shoulder was almost healed when they began the night visits.

The first time I saw the witch who was watching me from the darkness, I did not know how long it was there. It was an old, or so it seemed from his posture slightly curved, because the form that each of them carried a time I could not even understand what age did, and even if they were male or female: there could be any thing down there. I discovered that, when actually she was a woman, entered my cell, stripped and squeezed her little body against my dark and rough. I tried to push it away, more in surprise than anything else, and the old woman slapped me so violently as to make me tingle your brain, I tried to respond again, incredulous that a woman could submit myself physically, and then she grabbed my genitals and squeezed so hard that tears me, threatening me in that language incomprehensible and horrible that I never wanted to learn. I let him take what he wanted, the old woman stubbornly stroked my hair and smiled at me with his mouth demonic darkness As I rubbed it on me: the only thing I could think was that I could never ever have an erection in that situation and that the old one was crazy if he thought that raping a man rape a woman was as easy as . He began to stroke with her little hands wrinkled from long painted nails cherry red and I alternately watched his face is drawn, and the skilled hands that without the slightest hesitation or timidity I masturbated and I buggered. The witch I rode for hours that night exhausted and when I pushed beneath me, I lost the light of reason, sinking violently inside her.

That was the first of many nights when my terrible witch came to visit me and slept with me in my bed. It happened sometimes that will stop them than sex, and then we talked, in that hated her language harsh and evil against my will now that I understood perfectly, and I would say in everyday language that you understand. Was sixty years old, was the wife of the chief elder of the tribe and the midwife. She spoke of herself without complacency, but I recognized in her the stigma of command and as the woman did not speak, I knew I had to face one of the cornerstones of the people of the River. Her name was Hazel, told me in his language meant that the morning star, and I told her that in my tongue the morning star was the devil. She laughed with his huge toothless mouth, he found it extremely funny, I stroked her hair long and wild, as he liked to do, a strange light in his eyes affectionately, then got up to leave, but I held her by the hand. I kissed the palm, not I forced to stay, mine was not that a kind invitation and my sweet witch stood where he was, as I knelt before her, and brought my mouth between her thighs.

The next night greeted the smiling, looked into my cell ready to accept it, I kissed her on the mouth with transport, which more than once I was allowed to do, and helped her to undress. Only when he was naked, I realized that was not Hazel. I was petrified by surprise, she noticed it but did not seem to notice and clung to me, I remained motionless as stone, dazed, wounded.
"Hazel soon tires of his toys," he said vaguely compassionate voice, "Now you belong to the women of the tribe. Do not create problems and you will live a long time: the last man who bought Hazel has learned the hard way what is the reward for the rebellion and was also the last thing he has learned. "
The woman was imposed on me as he had Hazel made the first time, he just stand still and looked at me with his eyes blacks such as stones, waiting for me resumption control of me, then I was to get close to her and kissed her mechanically and did what I had been bought for .

Time passed, I was soon no longer confined in the hold, but I was allowed to work with women on the bulkhead. I was a handsome young man, I had a beautiful body and long blond hair when the people of the river was as black as soot. Younger women loved to spend their time with me, playing and joking, and I looked at Hazel, she looked at me:
"You're doing it on purpose?" He asked, "you know which will be your reward for rebellion, my sweet? '.
"My lady, that I do not like you."
Hazel smiled amused.
"Oh, I know," he taunted her, "Mizar told me that the first night with her, you cried for disappointment, because I had succumbed to another. A man so sweet, you are. " Anger
me crushing her insides.
"And now trying to seduce my women, glue your pretty face and your cock. I want you to know only one thing, "his voice was like honey," despite the imperishable love I have for you, if something happens to any of my girls, I have to do violence to myself, and stamping. "
We looked malevolent, far from the sound of laughter of young women, I bowed and went back to the witch bitch in the hold: I opened the cage and I got locked out.
That night someone left it open my cage, quiet as the night went up to the surface. In the dark shadow was following my moves, I did not need to see her face to know who he was, looked at from a distance, then I threw in the cold waters of the River. I swam in the darkness toward the lights of the port, when I touched the ground My lungs were a painful bellow. In the distance I heard the melody of the tune freaks and replied to their call, until you reach the old circus in the tent, playing with a doll so much like me, was my father.


Chapter Four, "Look," he said, smiling slyly, "you got away," moves the arm of his puppet in a parody of greeting, "you do not I would have considered capable . Hazel must not be so terrible as everyone says, the rest is just a woman, these stories do not could be true. "
smiled without mirth, I wanted to kill him.
"Why did you do? Why did you sell? ".
"And why the fuck I should not do it," she said furiously, throwing away the puppet and coming towards me as if to hit me, 'I'm not your father, right? I am no one, not even have a real person, then why the fuck should not I do whatever I want, why the fuck I should not destroy you, damn you, I hate you as I have never hated anyone. But anyway as you never fail to remember, I have a past, and then you're really the only person I've ever hated. Is not it funny? ".
not find him funny, I had loaded myself that gun at me. The man outraged by the expression turned her ass and turned away.
"Do not leave," he said. He stopped instantly.
"I need you, I'll never face this journey without a companion."
I looked sullen, now no longer seemed so angry: he was too easy.

All the while I was still a prisoner Witches of the river, my father had traveled with the circus, working the puppet sex. She said she had discovered a natural talent to build the manikins, had begun by repairing them when damaged, and now he knew enough to be able to build new ones. I asked him why, if he was so good, had not made other, more beautiful and perhaps better. At first I had not answered, then looked at me puzzled, and said that the desires - sexual and otherwise - were something he did not understand much. He looked very embarrassed and I researched further.

My father introduced me to the circus people, told everyone that from now forward would be working with him and that one day I continued the family business. The owner of the circus, a short man with two huge mustache and round, I'm worthy of scornful look before returning to its core business, which consisted in counting the money. The others are well disposed, who more than not, and my aggregate passed relatively unnoticed.
circus moves from town to town, each of the workers seemed completely unaware or uninterested in the war that had broken out the intentions of conquest and Lucien, in cities where parking, we were always a full house: even if I did not know, mine was a famous circus in all countries of the north.
My father became increasingly obsessed with his dummy, he spent hours and hours in his workshop, where, in a basket next to the television, picking glass eyes to be planted on the puppets, the hangers were hung in every shape and color of hair , heads and legs from old bodybuilder lay abandoned on the counter when I went to work to bring him food. Even noticed that I had arrived and, without saying a word, lascai food on the table.
"You're the only person in my life," he said when I was already at the door. I paused, looked back. "If I were to feel desire, this is for you. There is nothing else for me out there. "
I looked at him blankly, not that what he said had surprised me. I suspected this was the source of his discomfort, his inability to find true love, of wanting something or someone deeply and profoundly: for him, sex was just like that of its mechanical puppets. Definitely dry.
My father looked at me with his clear eyes, suddenly seemed to me not at all similar to mine, rather than blind eye glass dummy; I did not answer in any way: I could say? I felt that he looked at me as I came out of his kingdom and I went back to court to make the fat lady.

From day one, my father gave me all the keys of his kingdom scarcassato and I put everything he had available, with one limitation. In the bunch of keys that I had prepared was also one of the lab, but I should not ever, ever enter into his secret lair when he was not there. I did promise and I promised, I had no intention of failing in my word, but he never failed to check every day that I had not contravened the order. I ended up wondering what to hide, I could not soon think of nothing else: I know.
It was a stormy night, the sky was blind with stars, thunder and lightning raged and my father was out drinking with the man crocodile crossed the threshold of its secret rooms. The laboratory was dark, I turned on the light and darkness I have to admit that thickens those fake human parts scattered everywhere were quite disturbing. Then I saw him at the beginning I thought it was just another doll, until he turned his head toward me and smiled.
"Hello," greeted me.
'Hey, you should not be here, "I said,' the puppeteer does not want anyone in his laboratory. "
The man approached and saw that he was naked, black as ebony skin and bulging muscles of a sprinter.
"Why," I said, "that physical well done! '.
Black smiled, "Thank you, part of my job keeping me informed. Are an acrobat. We, acrobats. "
To which I looked around and I realized I was being surrounded by blacks and muscular men, I counted nine, all equally confident smile and sculpted by master of the world.
"You're French? I asked, uncertain, "I heard you were coming from the Circle du Soleil acrobats. "
"Exactly," replied the boy, "how about a drink?".
I would not refuse and point out to him in there that I was not the host, or at least we were both, and I took the coffee offered. I saw others talking in a language unknown to me, looking around carefully and noticed that the cots were not there, the air smells of sweat and semen, and burning plastic, and asked if the performers did not live there for some time, but it made no sense: why my father would keep them there, waiting for what? I felt the eyes of men staring at me, and my heart began to beat irregularly, and my body before my brain realized that I was finished in the den of the lion, but never could get to my brain provide - even with all the bite of the case, the looks, those looks hungry, those naked bodies - I would never have come to think that I'd been sodomized, against my will, by all nine Moroccan acrobats, one after the & rsquo ; more.

I tried to make conversation and to hide the nervousness I congratulate them for their work. Mohammad replied saying
"We are capable of virtually anything, 'so I can not say in good conscience that he was not warned. I found myself transfixed by those dark eyes, like a modern St. Sebastian, and soon I was unable to move when the power of his gaze fell on me, it was painful.
not know how many times I was raped. I was crying, bleeding, drooling and begging, but nothing could quell a rapacity without remorse and indifferent like the storm raging outside, and now reached the intensity of a hurricane nightmare. I stretched out face down on an artificial silk bedspread pale orange color and in turn kept me nailed to the arms and legs. I stopped counting the penetration, but I think each of them has sodomized me at least twice. Soon I was no longer conscious of my body, only the feeling of an arsenal of swords that pierced me in turn: I was so beside myself that they could very well get me into pieces and play with my songs and, as far as I know , did.
And then, as if in obedience to an inaudible whistle, they stopped. He dressed, with an indifference almost offensive, and I cried and called her mother helpless to save me. Mohammad then helped me get dressed and pressed me into a hug that would be comforting.
"A gift for you," he said and gave me a yellow oval shaped container, plastic, inside was full of eyes.
I put on the door, sending in food to the storm, and I walked away from the circus and the city, walking was very painful, but I had to be alone, away from everyone. I took refuge on a mountain and I do not know how much time I spent there, hidden in the bush, playing marbles with my eyes and when each one of those fake eye was lost or faded, I decided it was time to go, when I got to lay flat when the city, I saw that nothing was left. The earth had swallowed it and all its inhabitants, the guilty and the innocent, the good and bad: from the depths of the earth had awakened the power of the primeval chaos that had erased all traces of man.