After the birth of the creature

After the birth of the creature

Fake Game

Somewhere in Manhattan. Ten minutes after the birth of the creature.

I have no forces to run for more, I have no forces to scape again. I got some old clothes in the room. I know she got it but I cannot do it now. I need to scape.

It’s early at night but there’s no one outside. What’s happened with the city? Lights are off. And there’s no sound but I’m sure I’m not dreaming. I’m asleep at the end of the game. They don’t need me for more and they let me go out and to try finding the exit. I wait for a second and I can feel the presence near me, waiting like an expert hunter for his trophy. I take a look upstairs, lights are on. They might be still trying to keep its life but I know the true cause: it lived inside me and I can feel it again. Was it a pregnancy? I know now what Lorraine felt when I said ‘no’.

I can feel the blood flowing again and I can feel it’s again my blood, my own blood trying to recover from the virus that made the creature to grow.

Wait a second? What was that? It was like a muffled step. Are you playing with me, hunter? You would kill me if you want, but you prefer the game of seeing the fear inside the eyes of your prey. I won’t run away for more, hunter… and, once again, two accurate steps on the left… in the darkest night.

‘I can hear you, doctor,’ I finally said. ‘Come on. I can’t do anything against you…’

‘…Because I am you and you are I.’ He sentenced.

‘Where had you been all this time?’ I asked to the doctor.

‘I was near you, taking care of my creature. We did it, Alex!’

The city was off. Was I really in it? Sound and shouts turned on silence, the anonymous steps and the bustle and the lost souls… where were they? Where were we?

‘You don’t remember, Alex… but I do.’ Doctor Mirror said. ‘It was a clear day in Paris. You were looking for some kind of rare book in a book-store. You find the book you were writing, don’t you?’

I clearly remembered that. It happened some years ago, when I came back to Paris, when I came back looking for a dead dream.

‘Do you remember him?’ And he smiled with the Lorraine’s borrowed smile. ‘That day, our futures merged into one and ours souls were separated. Isn’t that ironic?’

‘Have you come to kill me, doctor?’

I hoped to listen something more than silence. I didn’t.

Somewhere in Manhattan. Day VIII

‘At the end,’ Lorraine said through her deep lips, ‘we have our son, Alex.’


**Fake Game, serial novel by Martin Cid. First Chapter

**Ten Masks of Evil, a mystery novel by Martin Cid
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