ALL PARTY DOOR VIA Francesco Martino
are helpless, lying on the ground bleeding from cuts to his face, arms and chest, on the verge of death. Yet instead of revising my existence in a flash, the image formed in my mind is the face of the medium, half decrepit but smile the envy of a movie star, who joined me Central to the solution in the case of a serial killer Christmas that some idiot journalist had called Santa Cleaver.
Well ... one that breaks all its victims as it should be called? The Slicer Christmas?
Despite my skepticism, that indefinable chick age in days was able to identify, as you know, the place where the latest victim was segregated.
The surprise that awaited me once broke into that apartment on the top floor was found at the scene of the last crime, the poor victim dying now bound and gagged on a chair in the middle of the room.
What was worse but I still see it.
one who turned to me, the killer, was my colleague Frank with whom I worked closely together over the last fifteen years.
Maybe that's why I was taken aback and overwhelmed as a rookie after a while.
And now the parties were reversed.
I bruised and bleeding at his feet, he prepared to deliver the decisive blow.
From mouth dripping with blood and saliva do not I get one comment and he is even less is wasted in explanations.
Sleek and quiet, stands over me with his arm raised now ready to drop the knife one last time when, even though we are in a closed shed, we invested a violent and sudden stream of cold air through my bones.
on the scene appears a shadowy figure who swoops down on his shoulders overwhelming.
In less than a second my eyes blurred by the blood they see it fluttering at first upward, then fell heavily to the ground a few feet away, in a pose decomposed.
around his body takes to widen the pool of blood leaking profusely from the head in two a precise shot shortly before wielding the ax on me.
What my eyes see more immediately, the reason he refuses to understand. Suspended in midair
hovers like a big broom on a figure that has something familiar.
While not being able to see the face under the hat, for a brief moment, the moon's reflection from the window behind him showing me a smile light up the darkness that I am astonished to recognize. You can tell
lucky young man - he says the gentle voice of the medium - you can tell that the old saying that all feasts of the witch takes away this time nice addition to the party also took away the ugly.
And after that last word I lose my senses!
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