Cruising Spots Las Vegas

Dark Gray Chapter 1

rained rained like never before, as if from the deepest part of the darkness an evil angel would like to shake with terror the men, the sky was dark as if from hell to treat and lightning, all too often it shone, shone strongly as her loud cry filled the darkness. Just look up was writhing in panic and anguish like a soothing scent that narcotic sedative that was introduced, almost without noticing, by our senses. The mournful cry of the ravens lurking around every corner, which served as the home of bloodthirsty vampires, nocturnal animals that had the name of death written in his eyes. He was accompanied by the comings and goings of strange looks in pursuit of the souls in the middle of the night, just after the dead return to their graves swearing lost life. Threatening and disturbing
The darkness was terrifying, but magic at a time, the vast silence, broken only by the thunder and the cries of souls writhing in hell, empty body rotting in gray and neglected graves, where the vegetation had long since ceased to grow, disturbed the environment with an ironic laugh, happy world of fear of dismay. (...)

An ashtray fell to the floor and a puff of smoke everywhere, now. Eric got up from his chair. With watery eyes and hands are stained rose and lit a cigarette. You could see his clothes torn, a coat to toe in black leather, exposing the white skin of his chest, and pants that allow drawings guess his hip. He was barefooted and with bleeding feet wing approached an open window. The wind ruffled his black hair and a flash of lightning illuminated the mysterious green-eyed gaze.
A tear slid down her cheeks. He thought, casting her gaze wanders through the darkness of the night. She closed her eyes tired. He pushed the window until it heard the crash closing. He spent the curtains. Took a few steps and stood before the altar. He puffed his cigar and the smoke covered his face impassive. He passed his hand over the cold stone as if caressing a woman, quietly, while excited just thinking about that caressed the woman he loved.
inches was removed from the altar. He went back to his chair and leaned back, his back to the bedroom door. She brushed her hair from her forehead slowly. Deep breath and put out the cigarette. Eric had a palísima skin, immaculate, perfect, without sin, coal-black hair, a green-eyed gaze and a fleshy lips bright red, as tempting as every part of your body. It was adorned with silver hoops that made him even more attractive if it were possible that even more. His was a perfect face, beautiful, impassive, like the face of the dead. It was a really solemn face, hypnotic ... devastatingly sublime.
Someone came up behind him quietly. Eric spoke
"I was expecting. You're late. (...)





Excerpt from "Hell" I started writing 16 years ... 11 years and many pages later, this work remains incomplete. Perhaps one day finish it, the idea in my mind, its development and its grand finale ... maybe completely change the language and keep the content but I'd be true to its roots and leave it as it was, as I wrote as a teenager. What do you think, we seek a vocabulary and a more careful drafting or leave to remain herself?

A big kiss and thanks for all your encouraging messages!