CHAPTER ONE: NIGHTMARES
Autor: James Stone Garden | Publicado: 2011-04-15T00:46:00-07:00

(O primeiro Capitulo do meu livro em Inglês ficou muito foda)James left work as usual one more ordinary day, did what had to be done to gain what they were paying you, so survive. Before leaving he went to the bakery with his coworkers, even your coordinator participated in the keg, the next day would be off. Between sips, a cigarette and another night fell in the black sky of cloudy plains, bade farewell to friends and headed to the point and buses, the sky was beginning to show signs of wind and rain that would cool dialogued. Rose bum a cigarette with the last matchstick and before the first puff rain fell copiously pasting your clothes to your body while the cold froze his bones. He thought he could have been working on motorcycles, but liked to ride the bus, not even he understood. The cycle came full of people that like he was going home after a grueling journey of the workday. Gotta sit on a bench and fell asleep, only waking up in the end was when the conductor woke him as he always did, since he lived a few meters from the end point at the next corner. Searched for a time in the set of keys that would open the gate, the lock did not help very wet at closing time, came home all soaked, took a quick shower and went to kitchen to join his famous and lonely of instant noodles meat. She started thinking about his life, was now far from her family in Sao Paulo, had come to live in Campinas, because his former wife had filed a lawsuit against him, that he did not remain near the children, all because he sometimes had those frenzied attacks to disappear from home and work for days, nobody knew where he went, but he always went to a place away from everyone, to rearrange his ideas, he was always hanging on the planet, disconnected people, and can tolerate everybody needed some time alone. At one point he even tried to go through psychoanalytic analysis, however, the psychoanalyst was just a bunch of blah blah blah he knew very well belong to some fool book self-help, although the doctor was a good man and gave him sweet, go figure. He turned on the TV news show gave some news of something like a riot earlier in the Hyper Market Extra in Sao Paulo, which he had no interest, then placed in the "FOX" to watch "The Simpsons", one of his favorite designs, the folheva same time as a book writer Nelson Magrinni, always did more than one thing at a time, from outside hyperactive child, his mother was crazy with it, the teachers at the school warned him to stop drawing in the portfolios, their notebooks were not given a line of raw, but he always did well in tests, also has much to thank the friends who always insisted that he do certain activities and for lack of friends so they could not finish college. In fact he could never finish anything that started, everything was boring for him, lived with the world nervous, I hated working for others, but unaware of it, I never managed to escape that reality has always mediocre jobs. He got up and went to the computer, went on facebook as usual to play a few games of poker and make snide comments on comments from friends, some loved, others hated, but he did not care, it was just cool to disagree with the perspective of people , sometimes he felt like it was not like them, she missed the friends he wanted to be with them at times, have a beer at the bakery or have a barbecue on the street, but life took him far away to another city ​​to another universe where he felt increasingly sad. Listening to some music of "Pearl Jam", browsing books, flicking channels, video game on screen display of the game "Castlevania lord of shadows", eating a piece of cake industrialized, checking on the phone if someone had called, was so all holy days, as if expecting something to happen in real life, later he would regret having wished that all my life. And with all this joy of life that he fell asleep in the middle of an episode dubbed "Lost," hated voiceovers, ended with the emotion of the actors' interpretation. He woke, chest sweating, thirst. He could not remember what he had dreamed, but I was sure that was a nightmare, nightmares thought were better than dreams, which gave some relief to wake up, you let desperate dreams, kind of like that dream and won the mega sena did not have time to spend a penny before waking.  He got up frightened, because he swore he heard shouting in the street, drug hated being awake in the midst of nightmares he could never remember what I was dreaming. Always wanted to go back to sleep to end the "nightmare" that nightmares are more entertaining than the dreams. He had some nightmares that accompanied him since his teens and was curious that the battle wounds that occasionally occurred in her dreams, were present in the body-shaped scars, which he never remembered where he had been hurt, one sought mediums made regression, but have not gotten into shit, but some nightmares always repeated, in his black armor holding the scales in her left hand, odd. He went to the bathroom when the light would light smashed a damn cheap, hated those nasty critters, and one less, washed his face and noticed how much I was older, was amazed every time, being 30-odd years was not very nice. He used to have 20-odd years and suddenly there he was with those gray hairs, fortunately his physique was not accompanied tiozinho of that belly, he at least had a body of someone who exercised regularly. He looked up and felt a sadness mixed with anger at knew where, ever felt this before but this time was stronger, not understanding began to cry as if someone had died, as if his life had never been it really, just chasing the past, the emptiness that had burned in his chest, burned him and weeping, was at such times that he had conversations with God, questioning why I always felt like it? And apologizing for being too stubborn, always wanting for the good of others before her, as if hovering on his shoulders the responsibility of being the guardian of the people he liked and even some who deserved his extreme hatred. He checked his watch was 3 am, and the screams started again so he was sure that James had actually heard something, looked like cries of pain, stopped to listen better, hear the pounding of his heart, heard his own breath, and then heard a roar, something animalistic, that shit should be the one? A wild beast? In the middle of town? Thought. He went to the phone would call the police, at least that he had to. He dialed 190 and nothing but the operator's voice saying the lines were busy, busy lines as well? Police were receiving many calls today? Or some attendant was dissing leaving links arrested in central ... At such times everyone becomes curious and even middle buster, moved by an impulse of courage he resolved to go down the street, "just to check the situation," he thought. Instinctively he went to the bookshelf and grabbed the gun "Point 40", which was hidden among the rocks of aquarium without water, only the trappings of boats and shells and stones and light weapon, that weapon was a precaution because one of the former idiots-boyfriends of his ex-wife made a moronic attack against him, he bears the marks of the shots he took and bitter to remember the nights were spent in the hospital pathetically mouthing her name on his bed near death she even had to visit. It was a hot night, ran through the room and put on a black tank top that was "hanging" in the back of the couch and when he was just leaving home and the power to make things interesting began to flash, and it would rain again too! While walking in the dark hit the shuttle in a mobile and remembered a phrase I heard somewhere: "Cinnamon is a device for finding furniture in the dark," laughed loathing pain as he descended the stairs that gave the street. As he crossed the threshold could not explain, but felt that the day today would be different and unusual. He hardly knew how much was certain. He heard another cry, but her voice was different now, was a woman's voice, and cried sharply for help, he walked cautiously toward where he had heard the screams, had the gun in his hand and began to wonder, where were the other people living in the neighborhood, everything was strangely quiet, usually people are curious and at least leave the window, stepped on a stone and realized he was barefoot, he would drop a curse word when he tripped over something else along the way, but shut up seeing that it was a body, the look of horror etched on his features, he began to regret having fallen, but there he was, maybe it was too late to escape, the body looked again and saw that his eyes without orbits leave a thick smoke, like cigarette smoke, strange things, but ultimately everything was strange even worse was when he was walking later encountered it, a woman was kneeling and screaming in pain, he saw ahead of her only a shadow, you could not distinguish what was by far, he was walking like those American movies against the wall. Do not think twice and fired, did not know why, but shot, stupid bitch, the shadow turned toward him and flew so fast that neither had time to think and was probably hitting a wall and fracturing a rib, was in tremendous pain indistinguishable from the creature walked slowly toward her, his vision was blurred he could not see the shapes very well, then he began to reflect what was happening, could only be a nightmare and began to laugh, laugh like crazy. The creature approached him and grabbed by the hair of the neck and sniffed, and he laughed more than anything to do something, he thought of it had to do it, smell? Pressed the view and looked at the creature's eyes and saw that his eyes were red as blood and had no pupil, was scared he was afraid, but do not know who laughed more. - You have a strange smell? - Muttered the creature  His head began to hurt his vision was fading in time, a bright light blinded him and he finally went out.