Bloodshed

Buenas tardes después de tanto tiempo, querid@s. Los exámenes y trabajos facultiles están consiguiendo lo que el selectivo no logró jamás: apagar mis energías como si no fuera más que una vela pachucha a medio consumir. En fin, hoy os traigo un microrrelato nuevo (en inglés, porque no me sale nada coherente en español últimamente), pero antes me gustaría contestar a algunos de vuestros comentarios y ánimos sobre la historia de FFR. Debido a los desastres facultiles antes nombrados y a algunos problemas personales, la corrección de la historia ha quedado paralizada temporalmente (es decir, hasta finales de junio cuando acabe con la puta facultad y la academia de franchute). Veré si entre tanto puedo subir algún relato sobre la historia (en inglés o en español) aunque lo veo muy difícil. Gracias a todos por estar ahí y darme vuestro apoyo. Espero que comprendáis más o menos el relato (cuya temática por cierto es bastante ambigua e insondable, incluso para mí) y que tengáis en cuenta que el inglés no es mi lengua materna. Si alguien encuentra algún fallo gramatical u ortográfico, por favor que me lo diga. ¡Un beso!

I scarcely remember her face. We were too young when they took her away from me. But I do remember her crying, shouting at them fiercely like a wild wounded animal. I couldn’t stop them. They had tied me up and forced me to watch.

            

They were three: all of them in thick black clothes; all of them blond and pale. The leader wrapped his hands around her wrists tightly to the point of making her scream for mercy. The youngest put a knife to her throat, looking at her with sickly desire. The cold blade made its way downwards, stroking her skin tenderly before desecrating it. 

            

The blood started to spill when the iron penetrated the flesh. Small reddish drops coloured her white skin, making her look like a mythological sacrificed virgin. The one who had been quiet until then stared at me with anxiety. He wasn’t enjoying the ceremony, but he hadn’t tried to do anything to stop his friends either. He was as coward as I, both of us incapable of taking charge of the situation; both of us letting an innocent soul burned in hell.

              

The leader held her tighter when the guy of the knife crossed her heart with it. She didn’t resist anymore, being aware that the end was close. Only when the heavy scarlet liquid soaked her white clothes the leader released her arms, which fell lifeless onto the table. He made a sign to his brothers and immediately the three of them knelt before my already sister’s bloodless body with reverence.

             

My blood turned to ice when I discovered what was going on. They were selling her blood to the old Gods in exchange of an ensured victory in the battlefield, but they had disregarded one tiny detail: my sister wasn’t a virgin, and the old Gods would become angry when they found it out. 

Tears rolled down my face when I realized my sister’s death had been in vain. But the worst of all this situation was that they were about to discover that there was still a virgin in the room…