About a certain return

Part 3

– Aren't you tented to join a nonconformist organization? Now, that you got enough spare time...

– Who, me? I asked.

Who did I asked? I think I asked my conscience. Oh! But who still had at least specs of this crap! Not even the philosophers speak about it anymore. What can it be?

I took the elevator to an underground room. I went a few steps down and saw the ceiling mirrored on the floor, I heard water dripping. My eyes got used to the darkness. Suddenly ... I felt the hubbub, it gave me the shivers. The evil was waving towards me; I felt a corpse's smell. The wires hanging on top of the water started to buzz. Two young girls drowned there, the corpses were floating. Something was dangerously approaching, it already sent its vanguard, I could hardly stand the smell and it wasn't the kind of place I could face. I run on the third corridor, jumped three steps in one go, and got to the third floor. The buzzing came from above, with a frightening rhythm, something that made your fingers move, all your fingers, it got through your flesh and your mind. My passage had been blocked by two bruisers, two chunks of muscles used, mainly, for extermination. They saw me and virtually jumped at me... Later I went back to every moment of this hectic convulsion, in slow motion as in a bored and fragmented movie. The image of tuff ones, the determination to please their master, full confidence in their power and skills, the muscles, the stare case, the wall, my back, my rushed turn, my desperation, my down fall, stairs, walls, the open door of the elevator, the bigger door also open, the lift, the lift, the mirror, the knots, open yourself, fragmented rhythm, gasps, the stare case, the closing doors, closing slowly, they closed, they are closed, the first of those brutes catching the door... And the music... A movie without music is like a food with no spices. Ha, ha! The elevator left caring the hand. I got out in the street and looked back in fear, now and again, to the House of the Devil. From time to time, after I heard somebody loudly shouting. It was a laughing, without reason. Something was telling me that one of the two sisters was still living. But what did the evil want from her? It was an enigma. A sense, you know? No? Well, I didn't understand too!

I ended up in a construction site. Like in any place where people create, there was a natural untidiness. There were remains, broken things, mud, tools, everything except humans, because they were probably working in only one shift and the working time was over.

The work got off humans from animals, I thought the famous saying, and I saw Marcel coming towards me, from one side. "Where, to hell, have you been?" No.

– Where did you vanish, you pervert?

Well, it's how we congratulate each other, of course a joke! But I haven't been quite wrong calling him ''pervert''. Taking to account the ''heart problem''...

– Where? I was around.

How come that "around"? And, then, I heard steps behind me... and a second Marcel showed up. Oh! The situation was about to get out of control. My perception was going astray. Which of the two Marcel was the fake one? I decided to put them to the test: "Who am I?" I asked. Honestly, I wasn't sure anymore of my identity. I turned my face to the close one. I saw him as reflected in a mirror. Him or me? Or both of us ... Then a door closed. Marcel just got out. The other one, I don't know how, was a dog! "Am I beginning to see... things?" Walking along, truly convinced that one of them was the spy of my thoughts, the hidden enemy in my bosom, we got to an area with one floor dwellings, where poor people were leaving. I already knew where I was. I needed to get rid of the dog. ''Go! Get lost! Go to hell!'' How come those humans want to be understood by dogs! That mongrel got me to be his master, and I kicked his but. I could hear him squealing and running away and tenths of dogs started to bark, they were chatting, they were swearing at me. If they could speak, the dogs in this area would use dirty words like their masters. They have the disgust and the boredom of the poor ones. And when they beg, they are bitter. Suddenly a female voice shouted, loudly but, somehow jammed: