III
Sometimes our failures fly faster than our successes.

            Edgar ran along the flat path anxiously, wanting to escape of that dreadful small house and to forget those nasty two sisters who were living under dark shadows near a forgotten lighthouse.
-What a pair of idiots! –He thought-. But at least, they are under control. Some few words and they will do what I wanted.

            Fortunately, his aim was not far off. It was a typical tavern in the middle of the village and he could already hear the hullabaloo that some prostitutes were doing. He entered and saw the same people he had left an hour before: nothing had changed because, actually, anything changed never there.
In the back room, four men were waiting for him with their inexpressive faces. He had been meeting them night after night during last months but, of course, they were not his friends if not vicious players who had the money he wanted to recover and then…, to run away from that old village and nasty past.
-Have you got money, Edgar? –The player with the worst aspect asked-. You know the rules: no money, no play.
-I’ve got it, Tom. And you? Because I’d like to keep on playing, I feel my piece of bad luck has already finished.
-Of course! Luck changes constantly! By bits and starts –Tom answered ironically.
-Let’s me introduce you a new player –A man with a big scar on his cheek said-. He’s William Wilson.
-Please to meet you, Mr. Wilson –Edgar shook hands with him but, frightened from the beginning, he was unable of looking at his eyes as weak players do and, then, he could not notice how black and strange W.W.’s pupils were.

Go to the next Page