The atmosphere becomes increasingly dense due to cigar smoke "El Guapo", which remained outside the game while the rest was smoking marijuana and commercial snuff the heat of the poker cards. It seemed a unique group and all were called by nicknames: "The Master" one of the two elements with relish frikista hatched in questions of history of all kinds, "Primus McPrime" the other self-taught historian, "The Cobra", also called "Guevareitor "by its being Earnest Cuban birth," Jairoman ", a man able to knock down a thoroughbred one cake with one of his hands," the banker "or" El Conde ", who always used presented everywhere with a good dose of hair gel stonily ordering every one of the hairs of your head, and finally, "Sir Pando de la Campa, after submitting politely to the game and explain the rules, dares to bring order at 20:30 pm. We have just entered
January 2009 and the cold down from the Sierra Nevada and humidity, what most want is to get together with buddies to play cards consentidamente occupying the home of "The Master".
comes a time when one of them, "El guapo", turning off the music, silences the other in a gesture to ask puzzled. Gentlemen Do not you think that there was too much silence from here?
.- After a few seconds the first to speak is "The Count", which gives importance to the observation and is in possession of the best hand of the night, answered -. Yeah, that's because the truth is out there and now come the file X is already out the posh this course, as he does not play, begins to confuse the rest. Insurance who is allied with one. Let's see ... what are the signs?
-. .- No, fuck Speaker .- "The Cobra" for his side really -. the street is silent. Normally you hear a car or something rulando, and for some time that only we who make noise .- Drop a nervous giggle. -.
Cagondiossss .- Suddenly says "The Master" -. Let's see if I'm going to have to get up to shut up your mouth and keep playing. Let no one look at me letters because we have .- If the sentence itself demands respect, imagine addition Madrid pronounced with the accent of "professional." Everyone smiles in complicity. Saying this, he gets up and opens the door to the balcony. The rest is surprised to be suddenly paying attention to the sounds outside. Without realizing they are attracted by the question of "beautiful."
Street really is dead. In fact, not moving or the wind. It's only 21:11 in the evening of Saturday, December 3, 2009 and on the peaceful village of Churriana la Vega did not walk or dogs.
silence now extends at least three minutes. -.
Well Do we continue with the game or not? .- Spoke nervously "El Conde". Apparently the letters are beginning to burn your hands. -. No, wait a second .- Interrupts "McPrime" with rictus question. "My cousin is right. I live in this shitty town for a whore purriá of years and this silence is not normal. Drawer is that it is here forever, at least some mongrel always heard barking in the corners or the bikes or something but do not hear anything but us. Let's see, Dan (say going to "The Master") .- With this goes ahead host and stretching out to the balcony as possible to see the end of the street. That does not matter at all. But nothing. It is very disturbing. It's almost beginning to wish that someone sneeze out of the room. All are silent and can only hear his breathing and the beating of their hearts. -.
Anyone want to go down and see if something happens? .- The voice comes from the corner of "Pando de la Campa." It is aimed at "Pretty Boy" by name, largely because they share living for several months, so it continues: -. Clams, salt your uncle, so we kept playing
-. .- If man, answer the aforementioned balls .- .-. Ponte now all the forage and go for a ride. To me the thing mosque but in thinking about this. Do not you think it possible for me too I can stay silent forever?
.- -. .- already out the exaggerated spoke "Jairoman"
-. Nobody will violate the corner here .- It is "the Prof" to try to convince him. -.
Come "Pretty Boy", and invite you to a sluts after latter says .- "The Count" with a mischievous smile on his face and his eyes half-closed.
Then, everyone starts to sing in unison -. Guaaapo, Guaaaapo, Guaaaapo
.- -.! Well, it already .- Judgement "El Guapo" firmly. Callan become suddenly and realize the agonizing silence that continues to prevail in the air. -. Okay, I go .-
Draws "The Count" with the tip of the index finger. Do not worry about the whores, I do not needed. Gramitos Cámbiamelas for a green, cheat .- Put the jacket, anorak, moves a little arms and cries out before sentencing: -. This should .-
me Cross the hall, quiet as the ruined building reaches the portal in absolute silence, opens the front door and set foot on the sidewalk facing the balcony. The bastards are not playing but looking out the window, waiting for the response of the handsome, whatever.
Once in the corner, takes a last look al balcón antes de perder la calle entera, enfila sus pasos a la principal, San Ramón, esperando escuchar al menos los coches al fondo, en la lejanía….. Nada. Ante esta perspectiva, la acción que le sigue, en otras circunstancias hubiese sido digna de locos, pero allí no había nadie, ni de lejos. ¿Quién le iba a decir nada por gritar como un poseso? -.!!!!AAAAAAAh¡¡¡ ¡¿Hay alguien ahí?¡-. Guarda silencio unos segundos y no oye nada. Este asunto adquiere tintes terroríficos. Da media vuelta y enfila dirección a la partida de pócker. No anda ni quince metros y algo le acelera el corazón como nunca había nada lo había hecho. Primero, unos pasos lejanos the race is close, then these steps will turn into many more, and more, and more. "El Guapo" breaks to run so strong that it feels feet touching the ground. Look only once distinguished back and vibrating a thousand shadows in the distance. Reaches the portal, they are still all on the balcony and watch him as a soul that takes the devil, pull all but "El Profe" on the intercom to open the doors, and does not follow the rest in support of "handsome" because he is petrified looking like a scrum of formless beings in all directions are aimed at Coquina The handsome. " Coquin
winging its way into the building and before you want realize and is in a corner of the room, shaking like a kid who just kidnap to throw in a pool of ice. -.
Coquin What is this? What the hell is that? .- Asked his friend, manager and neighbors as he grabs the lapels of his anorak. -.
Holy God Lights out pussy Silence .- "The Master", which was wind that passed through the balcony door, close doors and curtains and walks away without giving back. All remain silent and totally scared shitless in the dark. They can hear the footsteps as they approach exponentially and without remedy, enter the building and go up the front door. Are such that Copan also heard as the entire interior of the building and reach the door stop to wait. Judging by the approaching footsteps, estimated to be over five hundred or a thousand, even. Again silence, broken only by the peer group hunches. They know they are again in the middle of absolute no sound but this time, surrounded known.
The door of the house began to resent the press of bodies huddled together, putting thousands and thousands of bars of force against a sheet of walnut veneer. -.
! Oh god, oh god Sigh .- "Jairoman" -. Shut the hell .- Le initiate "Guevareitor" with an elbow blow to the side. Caen
account have been discovered because now the pressure on the door seems to be deliberate, rhythmic, and increasingly gave more. They are hiding in the bathroom, huddled in the bathtub when the input gives a sharp snap. They know that new arrivals will not be left at the entrance. All, without exception, they feel a cold sweat as the ice will completely soaked head and back when they hear footsteps again in search. They approach the bathroom door. The handle rattles doing hint of compromise. The room is cold, wet and black. So black that they learn that "The Count" falls unconscious due to a nervous breakdown.
The door creaks, is part of the latch, every few seconds screaming and everything is back again in silence.
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