Howard was not a normal observer. He was a man who looked and, by instinct, temperament and genius, let settle, settle. Inwardly, as aggregation of perceptions, leave a door open, they found the house in a part of his meditation. Then retracted to the right, under the pressure of memory. That was the stage where its tests that extra step, changing her look old, his memory, to bring in new reality in fantastic form in his writings. He was one of his gifts, his light on the darkness of seeming distraction, useful to mask this sediment. When questioned on the spot, he could show short incredulous to what was their memory, about what, just before, the agent had seen, rather than a witness, only to discover in the acute and polished to bring up the same feelings and images. But in their own time, in kneeling pose in relation to its vocation as a writer.
That was a unique ability. That could open the doors of his imagination is paired with his feelings, his view, to perceive its gone. That flows from it were the case and monstrous dream of his writings. So high in the push imagination, so real that emerged from this curious way, this normal process, of his senses.
Many, many times, this creative process was also useful to drive away bad thoughts present to remove the thorns, its thorns. Those that would not allow him to put his emotions on paper autogerminative. Nate in himself and set on paper, without filters, it sensorial distractions right now.
could receive a professional disappointment about his writing, and many years had been received, and experience them as something else, then immediately continue writing and drawing from his past and settle this macerate other emotions. Other than immanent, but useful to do so to survive. Howard did not live on the emotion of the moment, but on the past, unsettled, sterilized, called to mind, almost at will. On the run from the perceptive reality, chasing property of experience.
On the train that brought him back to Providence was not. Unplug the current perception that he would speak to Sonia, their limitations, of his own inadequacy and the feeling that whatever that is, but he saw him move to concerns and made the usual "other", while a process that usually settles remember that sharp pain, and drew others. Different. Softer and therefore more useful to his writing of the moment. With the coolness of an automaton, the cold interior of one who wants to live his life while he lived.
The captain had taken from the inside pocket of his khaki uniform cigarillo a long and slender. Then, before the large window, after having done the right spin on the fingers with the skill of a juggler, if it was brought to his lips. He looked down and stealthily, without moving the sight of an inch, she received the shock.
Her eyelids were so subtle vibrato, with his left hand, he rubbed a match on the belt and two puffs indifferent, tobacco had caught fire. His gaze remained fixed over the window. Again and again. Without giving an inch from its radius. Shortly after she came the second shock.
'Bastards of peons! "He felt angry at his back. His lanky attendant had a brother killed a few months earlier. "Beggars damned! ... Smoking Merde! "
" Rodrigo, please! "He launched the captain, turning his head to snap to the subject behind.
"Excuse me sir!" The sergeant was throwing out his chest tightened.
"I do not want to hear comments - had urged the officer - If you want to look, look. But hush! "His eye was on the last words over again through the window on the bustling square of the barracks. Suffocating in the dust of the day, other soldiers were. About
placed in line for two, who will accompany and move.
"Today we are scheduled sixteen, sir," she whispered Rodrigo
"Sixteen And yes ... we are only at an altitude of two "had raised the master, as was the cattle market.
"There is also the ... ... That Isabela Isabela Exteberrìa. Are seventeen Mr. Captain "
" Yes, seventeen "He confirmed a deep voice, always looking out the window, while a third was explained by discharge into the air.
dusty area under the administration offices, two parallel rows of soldiers, one of squatting, the other standing with his rifle shouldered waited. Three men carrying away a body lying under a blanket as a wall riddled with three men he brought another walking dead. Behind them raven a priest with book and cross in his hand.
The fourth man, under the eyes of the officer, consented to be untied, he accepted the last rites of the priest and that he enjoyed strong sun, due to a geometric patch of shadow, which gave light in the form of a right triangle in area of \u200b\u200benforcement.
With the dignity of a statue, the prisoner gave his face the firing squad. The fourth download caught him in full. His eyelids trembled as the captain.
"May I sir?"
"What is Rodrigo, tell me ..."
"I wanted to ask you, if I may ..."
"You"
"You do not like this. Why do you look? "A fifth discharge entered the office on the third floor of the building, as a thrill in horse hair.
"For it is written - said the commander, without turning from the square -. E 'written in the regulation of the officers .. "And he recited from memory. "Any officer may be found in the area of \u200b\u200bexecution must stop and assist until the end. In case of absence, inability or incapacity of the commander of the platoon, and it must ensure sostiuirvisi ... Yes, ok,. We understand each Rodrigo "
" But I do not know Captain, to the police station there are at least four officers ... "
"It's okay. A regulation is a regulation "
" Mah "
" No buts. Maybe that's why you're not an officer. " Sixth low.
"Maybe that's why, yes," After the series of shootings
male, was shortly after the turn of the seventeenth time.
Exteberrìa Isabela, was said to be one of the lovers of General Rodolfo Fierro, was captured a few weeks before. In a basket, they found three pistols and a grenade. In an attempt to escape was shot two government guards. One was dead. Today it was there, dressed in a modest, with her hair streaked with white, his face and suffered forty movements filled with calm and dignity. To reject the last rites with a friendly smile, to reject the black handkerchief over his eyes.
The platoon followed the orders and the woman shouted: "Long live the revolution! Viva Villa! Arriba Mexico! "The Seventeenth download took away her breath. Forever.
The captain followed the scene, his eyelids trembled again, for the last time that afternoon.
Two of the eight soldiers were left with head bowed, in the act of shooting. In the square
the lieutenant who commanded them had approached him furious and began to whip them on the face with his whip: "Cabrones! Hicos de Pierre! "His cries were raised high, even more than Women's sacrificed by losing a war goddess. One of them was on his knees weeping, the other still standing, there always two companions in the front line, held out his cheeks a better than whipping deep.
"See Rodrigo? We shot the women .. We have the enemy in our midst, we should find another way "
" We should, sir. But who must die, must die ... "
" Who decides? "
Howard still had in mind Paco's face, as he told with his flow and his eyes sparkling clear. He had heard his stories detailed the night before and if I had let it slip inside. Had accumulated feelings, instincts and emotions. While the Mexican lace from grizzled told of its history, with a serene smile that he knew he left, after all.
As the train was traveling and his eyes reflected deep in the landscape, Howard had slipped back on the thought of the man who had given him hospitality, which had opened the house and had told him. He thought, but only for a moment, to give her features the protagonist of one of his stories, to give him his weight, its human, his languid anxiety. In a serenity that could climb over, it seemed, any barriers now. Drawing on his experience. It was a simple story.
"Captain De Los Rios eh .. "The man's dusty and loaded with weapons had approached seriously, taking the military document open before his eyes.
The train car was filled with a stench of gunpowder and rancid sweat that made her shudder.
front of the officer of administration, two men, among them Rodrigo, lay. One bites the other, his attendant, bent unnaturally in a chair with blood trickling from his mouth open and a glazed look that spoke of death.
Paco, his hands tied behind his back was standing.
"I want to .."
"You you, pig?" He had silenced one of two men who held him still for a bicipiti.dandogli painful tug.
"What do you want?" He had approached the general
"I would ask you to close your eyes to my attendant."
The military train on which he had traveled to Chihuahua, was still, half in flame, half not.
was needed was a charge on the rails a few feet below the engine and hundreds of rebels had done everything to pieces. Immobilized convoy, cars, anime thirty-seven government soldiers. In addition to the ten who had surrendered.
General Fierro had made a nod to one of his and they leaned on Rodrigo Estevez giving peace to his final look.
"And now what you want Mon Capitain? Want a coffee? ... No? "He smile briefly Fierro, ironically condescending tone. His breath came bitter to the nostrils of the officer.
"You have defended well, had resumed the captain -. Very well know for being an accountant and shoot ... "
" El general we found the case "had prorotto a rebel Pancho Villa, entering the carriage behind her head.
"Well, go" Fierro had told him without looking, then he resumed.
"Now I need you even more for this" mon Capitain "... Are you afraid to die?"
Paco de Los Rios had bowed his head slowly, as a sign of assent. Then it was back on the stocky figure, it had watched the green eyes, the flowing mustache, tan spotted the orbits, white teeth. He felt dead, but this made him feel better.
"Bravo, you have it. Why do not we see prisoners among the officers. Too dangerous ... And then there's a problem. What can I do with you? ... "
He sat at the round table. The only one who had not been reversed during the shooting.
"... In the end you are a military, even if only an accountant and is a sin you know? If I was Colonel we could even ask for a ransom. But you're just ... Just a moment. And you do not even tell me secrets mon Capitain ... "
'It is true, I have no secrets "
" Well, tell me then ... Captain Captain De Los Rios, tell me a reason why I should avoid death. Just one. "
Paco stood in silence a few seconds, he felt his arms stretching behind him, painfully tense, the blood flowed more to the hands. Then he spoke, not to delude himself to save his life and even for revenge in advance. They do is talk.
"Isabela Exteberrìa"
Fierro looked down a moment, pointed to the four men to go out with a dry nod of the head. Then, left alone, went back on his prisoner and smiled
bad "feel"
"I was there when was shot ... I heard her scream three times. "Said the three phrases .. Now I am going to die, I understand how difficult it is to do it. I understand how difficult it is not bend over and beg for mercy in the face of death. The appreciation for this and I think that if she did it, I can do it myself. According to shut up, I do not have to shout slogans "
Fierro passed on the forearm as dry mouth and stood staring at him sitting in silence.
"Isabel was my woman"
"I know
" You do not have a heart like a soldier mon Capitain ... Why did you choose that? "
" I do not know. In war, a soldier is easy ... maybe shoot and kill, you shoot and you die. Without nuance, without compromise, perhaps no more pain. I'm dying today. If you hurry, I'm afraid ... This is pain that I have chosen "
El General Rodolfo Fierro stood up and pulled out a cartridge of the gun resting on the shoulder and held it pointed towards the face. His gaze decided he had in him all the absurd convenience of a Revolutionary War fought between soldiers and stinking poor without soul, seemed to melt into a fold of reflection. Unexpected, unexpected, baffling.
"No captain De Los Rios, today I believe that you will not die. I want to make a gift, but ... "He called two
of his, made him loose, then grabbed his hand and drew from his pocket a cigar cutter brass.
I put the little finger of the right of docile Paco.
"Viva la Re-vo-lu-zi-o-ne" she whispered as the blade sank into the flesh with a slow and relentless pace. He felt the soft thud of the first layer unnaturally fall.
"Viva Vil-la" is repeated sull'anulare with one click faster.
"Ar-ri-ba Me-xi-co" conclusion of the slaughter on average, with all the slow spell that nonsense.
weeping eyes of paco, biting his inner lip, repressed the urge to scream out of pride did curl on her blood who continued to run.
Then, slowly and inexorably, he left the first hiccup of physical pain that made tears, you did cry softly as a child that wants to cry, but can not.
Fierro took out a white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
"mon Capitain Now you must learn to live with everything in between between the killing and being killed ... your three fingers me I'll take it. They belong to Isabel "
Paco De Los Rios looked at him from below, purple and crying. But recovered wisdom and strength as a fighter and with a nod of the head suddenly became "yes" with the power of an ancient military dignity. Once the revolutionaries
they were gone, after having killed the eight other prisoners, Paco de Los Rios was alone in the barren countryside.
Wobble, you urinate on the wound to disinfect it, took out a handkerchief from the pocket of a fallen comrade and bandaged, dabbing his blood.
Way, alone, for twelve miles to a Chihuahua.
"I do not know why I did this Fierro, rather than kill - had told Howard, last night, while puffing with his umpteenth cigarillo - and for years I just thought that bastard had been mutilated in this way, leave me crippled without my dignity as a soldier. Then, when the weather has eased this pain I began to understand ... No, Mr. Howard. I do not believe that Fierro had simply wanted to save my life.
Yes, maybe he saw a light in my eyes of loyalty that prompted him to do it, but it was not just that. I think that would really give me something, maybe another opportunity for life, so to spend - and raised his right hand with three stumps, smiling peaceful - away from a life that was not mine. I believe this: I really pushed to explore everything that was in the middle between the shooting and killing, to be shot and die.
Now, Mr. Lovecraft, she comes to me and tells me that these three fingers are my strength ... my secret when I make the coffee - he smiled -. I do not know, but it is curious statement, I never noticed. The truth is that nothing would be worth the pain of losing it that way, perhaps only a new life. I thought of their lack of regret not more, but enjoy it ... "And with his sly look raised his hand and waved the fingers of the right. Or what was left.
When Howard Phillips Lovecraft, who returned to Cleveland, he returned to Providence with virtual cobwebs on the eyes and a feeling sleep deprived, it did so with the certainty of a marriage dissolved that settles in his heart el'abbozzo a new story.
not yet know how to develop it, nemmanco ravine from which to draw the darkness of his imaginative monstrous figures that would have characterized; knew, however, already partly written on one of his notebooks, which nature and humanity that would have divided his hero.
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