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absolute loss of hope that God was forever closed the doors to paradise ...

Who can despair of God? Man.

Without sin there is no punishment. Sometimes you need to sin to get what you want.
expected infinite desire, clinging to the soul as a constant melody stuck in a shell. Mortal dreams even in the afterlife.

The good souls who inhabited the sky were deserving of all privileges, all rationale of the creator. His perseverance in doing good had a huge reward, lying next to God for eternity.

A loving God, which gives absolute freedom. A God who does not dispute, but not forgotten. Lágrimas negras
flood the city. Streets empty of people transparent. Evil lurks in every corner, in every heart, lacking in forgiveness, repentance and humility.
The memory of any act of kindness is just a reflection on the altar of God. Altar
and only accompanying angels. His drooping wings betray the terrible sadness of Christ.

last breath While there are many who cling to a faith forgotten, is the face of the devil which are to squint. The balance of life is not worth the sins.

Thus, death after death filled the coffers of the underworld, letting out a sigh of despair to those who patiently longed for a meeting in glory.

But no one lives to earn heaven. Selfishness invoked evil on earth. Human evil takes the place of dying flooding the empty souls hell, so much rot decapitated. It is human vanity are trying to fight with God.

The heavenly gate has been closed since the second uprising, which took place in the kingdom of heaven. The good souls decided to take over, leaving in gloom celestial light.

A human soul led to the beginning of the end. Convincing one after another all the other souls who had long centuries waiting to reunite with their families. In the realm of peace there is space for solitude. The impotence of the spirits for not being able to see their loved ones fed the arrival of the most absolute and terrifying end.

is how it all began, is how hundreds of millions of souls, sick of waiting for the impossible preferred sin to drag his soul to hell. Hanging from the hand of God to set him his the Lord of Darkness. This is how the second rebellion took place.

A cardinal sin pluck the disaster. A single death, the most unjust, the least expected and most desired by those who executed it.

A servant of the Lord, a divine angel wings covered with angry souls from the pain of eternal punishment, trying to comfort them found death in the most savage.

How to describe the work of millions of hands on one body? One goal in mind, unleash the wrath of God to be punished, the spirits for centuries to live in the glory deserved mercilessly attacked a glorious soul, blood staining the wings, covering the eyes of utter disbelief.
feathers plucked in droves, wounds whose scars will never heal such deep wounds because that leak the inner light of an angelic being.

After the terrible slaughter in God's eyes stained dark infinity.
souls One by one they fell, letting out a scream, a mixture of relief and terror.

There is no hope for humanity. Since then the gates of Paradise are closed. The loneliness of a sky that still mourns the loss of his reign by the utter selfishness of the human race.

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Nurse Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2011

I wish to everyone s the people who visit my blog that you spend a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year 2011, and I hope it comes loaded with good health and beautiful moments.
A kiss for tod @ s.

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THE PATH OF LOVE THE NIGHT



What if love was the opposite of what we think? What if you slept next to your enemy? On alert, in complete harmony between terror and devotion to your executioner. Constant challenges of the heart. Blood flows hot and cold heart pumping love

The selfishness of one who loves you just for you. The satisfaction of a passionate sex, cruel and completely terrifying. Naked
to evil, the eyes of a victim needs to feel alive.

caress you with the same hands that could one day surround your neck if I am animal.
whisper in my ear I love poems with the sweet voice with which you may also delight in the last words I hear. Long

springs blooms. Dark winters of hugs in front of the fireplace.
The fire in my eyes will burn.

Alliances, unite us forever, is the sweet circle of routine, casual selfishness, by which two souls come together to end up destroying themselves.

interlace our hands and watch the horizon without crossing our eyes because maybe we would see the true horror reflected in our retinas.

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scariest




lurk in the corners of Christmas lights. They warn me that once again, the streets are flooded with people hungry for love and love-starved gifts. A loop of emotions. Joy and sadness
come together once a year under the Christmas tree. I instead

I feel real fear, a terror which paralyzes me more and I keep a secret because nobody would believe me ...

Many years ago I learned a great lesson in life is the most awaited moments are often the most disappointing.

Santa visits all children around the world ... at all. It is now when there is panic at being bad, the repentance of one who knows he has done wrong over the years.

Since childhood, the loneliness of the darkened room foreshadowed the bulky gifts that a man had allegedly left in my room while I slept .. .

But no gifts for a poor household, no gifts to reward evil, just punishment and loneliness disguised in a broken wrist and empty sockets that reminds you you're not like other children, you've got what you deserve and that year after year you will receive a visit from a man that rewards or punishes the children by their attitude.

If I did, I killed that girl. I was young and I got carried away, I hated his look, his eyes shone with happiness that has it all. It was not fair, I could not stand it anymore and I just got rid of it.


That is always my Christmas gift. A broken wrist and eyeless wakes up next to me in the most anticipated night of the year.
Santa Claus exists and know what you've done. What if you've been good?

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LISTEN TO MY FLAME SILENCE THE HELL



Eternity provides calm silence.
words do nothing but kill the stillness of who savor the simple, the only noticeable for languages \u200b\u200brestless and empty.

Sangro through my mouth because I'm hurt, because I am a slave to the memory of my own stories, my twisted or innocent lies that keep me afloat in this tragic place.

is beautiful silent pain that not be at the level of silence. The words get stuck in my throat trying to pile out of my mouth.
The tongue stuck in the ground is a monument to madness.

So, screaming in silence I fall asleep again. Abstract In this darkness, this irrationality of human beings endowed with language to stone each other with words of fire and poisonous saliva.

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Whoever plays with fire will burn.

Day of the Dead is a very special date. The memory of our loved ones makes us feel nostalgic for the past.

Tradition says he must leave a candle burning all night to light the memory of our loved ones.

is on that night when lost souls find their way. Spirits come home to once again feel the love lost. For a few hours, families feel a special energy, a state of happiness to let them know that those who are no longer among us.

I also wanted to feel the fullness, the magic that surrounds the esoteric world.
At midnight lit a red candle in my room. The dim light illuminated the room. I sat in bed and prayed some prayers for my family were fine. The candle seemed to hear, as the flame went up and shook quickly.

After a few minutes I felt a current of air from the dark corridor that I have in front. The door of the room was ajar, so I closed it, went back to bed and covered myself completely.

The dream was winning when suddenly I heard a loud knock on the door. As if anyone tries to get across the force.
I stood there with eyes wide open not knowing what to do ...
I prayed, I prayed with all my strength so that whatever it was to leave. My heart beat rhythmically, as if a fist grip and had to struggle to survive.
After a few seconds everything fell silent.
I looked at the candle wax was shaking and crying too.
My heart was still beating strongly but it seemed that everything was back to normal.
I took the book from the bedside table, still looking for the door. I had not read even half a page when an invisible force slammed him and made him blow. Just can scream, I felt my breathing quicken and panic could get all the hair on end .. My hands were shaking and I thought I was going to faint.
was when several voices at once I whispered in his ear. Weeping woman, unconnected words, shouts and laughter echoed around me. I closed my eyes tightly and covered my ears trying to get everything back to normal.
Suddenly, the screams ceased, but I do not dared to open their eyes, stood motionless with his legs drawn up, trembling in a corner of the bed.
could not describe in words the feeling of terror I felt when I open my eyes ...

around my bed, I watched dozens of spirits with evil.
The coldness of his eyes locked on my retinas making me cry out desperately. One by one they approached me. One by one they were possessing my body while my mind was devoted to the madness. I could feel the energy inside me, I could feel the pain of tearing the bowels. Like balls of fire that slip down my throat and burns my whole being.
panic and despair, I joined as I opened the window of my room and threw myself into the void.

Unlike the others, red candles have a special light. The flame lit in different ways, creating an aura of mystery around it. The red light is like the fire of hell and attract the wandering souls, lost souls looking for something to hold on again.

Now I am a soul trapped in darkness. The attentive look dead nights a flame that leads me to possess a soul and bring me to hell.

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my old room




His childhood make for good people. I was taught to walk slowly, not lifting voice and always sleep with one eye open.

Valiente is one who has no fear, but facing him. My sister Ana

used to boast of being the strong family. His dark eyes warm and cool face betrayed a heart unmoved. The truth is that I always admired the way he struggled with his sword when we pretended to be pirates or how fast it was when we were racing and we had exhausted on the floor with crumpled clothing and shoes full of dirt.
was the greatest, he always had the last word, I knew what I had to do in any situation. Anne knew that I was terrified and seemed amused the idea of \u200b\u200bmaking me suffer.
At the age of six and eight years respectively, our parents decided they were older to sleep alone. My sister Ana seemed enthusiastic about the idea but to me, I blocked a paralyzing fear. I have panic in the dark.

never forget the first and only night I spent in my new room. My father had enabled after years of accumulating junk. Although he seemed nice, I felt a strange loneliness to lock myself in it. A large window
communicated my room with my sister. Walls painted with angels gave me the peace I needed to sleep.
was as if I observe and smiled knowing that I will sleep alone, helpless and anxious.

My little hands would gather every night as a prayer. Asked strength and courage to a God who seemed to listen, not to understand, much less ... help me.

Beside my bed was a large lamp with a chain from which hung a bell. If you wanted to turn on or turn off the light just had to pull the chain.
all started when I decided after reading a story off the light.
After a few minutes I thought I heard the little bell. The lamp is moved from side to side making it sound. The sheets were cooled suddenly felt like someone was pulling them to make them fall. Suddenly
plastic on my face I could not breathe. Hot breaths he could not to get into my lungs. Just a cry
inaudible and I stopped struggling. My hands remained suspended in the air, held together by someone who could not see.
Only a few voices around me and whispered among themselves.

My mother came suddenly into the room, turned on the light and everything seemed back to normal. The well-placed blankets on my bed, the lamp still and all in silence.
Only my face white and contorted alerted my mother, who gave a desperate hug after telling what happened. Obviously did not believe me, but I was so terrified that I wanted to force to stay there.
From the other side of the window I watched Ana frowning, fearing what would happen. From that night back to share a room with her. Ana

not believe me. I knew that I was very scary and that he was amused at the bottom. She feared nothing. In fact, entered several times in my old room, turned off the light and screamed as if someone was doing damage to taunt me.

During the following weeks I had to agree to their blackmail to sleep with her. Ana favorite game was "Turns." Consisted
that I had to enter the room, close the door, edging the bed and pull the chain to light the lamp. Turn around to greet my sister that I watched from the window, back off the light and leave the room slowly d. If I ran or screamed forced me to repeat everything again. One time I finished the game and returned to our room.
When I turned around I saw the terrified faces of several young girls watching from the other side of the glass. I looked angry, as if from where I was unable to hurt me. Ana could not see them, because I do not suppose he was afraid, but they were real, there were six or seven girls locked in that room waiting to come back to finish me off.
That was the last time we played.

Years passed. Ana married and I decided to go to study in the suburbs. Over time, I learned that everything we feel no need to be real. The fantasy of a child can go far and do much damage without even realizing.

was during one of visits to my parents house when I saw that none of the children were living in my imagination. My old room had long since returned to an old storage room and nothing seemed to disturb the environment strange. I walked slowly and quietly tiptoe, as Anna had taught me
Me went to the window and there he saw the light. Memories fade but there are always brands, such as multiple scratches in the wood and saw the marks of hands on the glass window of my old room

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dead knock on my heart. The dim room light sentences numbs the longest night of my life. The quiet listening behind the curtain. Asleep sobbing that accelerate my desire to awaken.
The warm skin of a lover rubbed her cheek against death. The shade of a tree shelter where the hope of a new day. Years nonsense, days without respite, where roadblocks continue traveling the trail of a lost soul into oblivion. Castilian
old to love. Bad times for romantic evenings in the flowery garden of my heart. I drag my eyes to the horizon and I pray to silence my sorrows in this warm August afternoon.

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DAWN MORNING SONG FOR MORE




Do you hear that? The world's saddest song on the moon ... dumb
eyelids close to catch the last tears of pain on awakening. Sweet love notes to the moon. My heart beats silvery puddles and accompanies loneliness. My hands cradle
white piano keys, and soft feathers injured bird. The smell of the night is a mix of my notes. How to describe such pain? Only the moon discover my soul, my beloved white only decorates my skin look and is reflected in the piano.
cry while I play, I cry when I look up to her and I dedicate the world's saddest song, the hard truth and conviction sweeter. Here I am every night, in the shade of a silver sun, the warm purity of a summer dream. Bleak, depressed and desperate. Only hope to captivate my lover never to feel the loss, the cause of all madness, the evil of love, evil heart shattered.
See that? It seems that the moon is approaching, lights my keys to dance with me. I can not even turn around, do not want to scare the hope of something so beautiful, whisper "I love you" the wind, perhaps the night I devuleva his eyes, perhaps the moon is in love.

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SAD WORLD LIVE AND DIE IN THE BLACK SEA




One year ago today that this blog came to life. This was the first story I wrote, the first of many. Now my inspiration sleep, perhaps, it has swallowed the sea ... a hug for everyone and thanks for reading.


Night falls in a coastal village. The wind blows hard, the beach will be forfeited and the house lights are turned shyly. In one of those white houses lives Miguel, a old fisherman who even in his eighties is still excited every time he sees from his window the sea, his beloved sea ... The rolling waves reminds Teresa, which was the great love of his life for over fifty wonderful years. Two months ago, a terrible disease and Miguel snatched dreamed every night reunited with her, hug her again, feeling her perfume, the feel of your skin ...
The old man could not stop mourn when he recalled the sweet words of Teresa on his deathbed. Miguel
-my love Do not worry, we'll meet again someday. As the waves can not stop, my heart will not now or ever. Close eyes and listen ... I'll just be asleep, is my deep breathing that is mixed with the waves.
stroked his withered hands and over the photograph of his wife who was resting on the bedside table. Miguel
heart was growing heavier every beat was a pulse of life, a life that no longer wanted unless it was with his beloved. The days were long and nights even more. While the people slept, the moon lit up the Loneliness of Michael, who drowned her crying into the pillow.
The hours passed and the old man could not stop listening to the roar of the waves. Teresa felt called it, that this time they could sleep peacefully together to it.
Without thinking twice, Miguel got up and decided to descend to the beach. Once there he took off his clothes and crawled into the vastness of the sea. His bare feet sank into the cold sand and the waves caressing your skin. As his body went into the water, Michael felt a sense of infinite warmth, a pleasant fullness that never could have imagined. His eyes narrowed as he felt the touch of a hand on his chest ... again felt on your skin caresses Teresa longed. He stretched his arms and hands together tightly intertwined. Michael could not help but mourn for happiness. Could finally get back together with his mistress Teresa.
Suddenly, tide began to rise, the waves broke violently against the rocks. The sea enraged, he could not allow a mortal dream come true. The souls that inhabit the whimsically chose. The contorted waves his hands again and drove the strong love the old man gunned down in the sand leaving, lying, out of breath ... died in just a few seconds suddenly feel so great despair of losing her love again .. The screams of pain were heard Teresa all the people. The sea had been a witness to their encounter and the cause of eternal separation.

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I do not know if I have eyes open or closed, I have embedded the darkness in my soul. Black butterflies at the foot of my bed swaying to the beat of an expected death. The wind flutters the sheer curtains of my room. Night falls can you hear my cry? Screams holes flowing through my blood.
I feel like an animal against the headlights of a car. Contorts my body with an invisible string attached, I can not get rid of it.
butterflies flutter over my face. It is the language that can only feel pain, you can not see something beautiful in her inner world.
The moon's face is covered with black clouds to observe quietly.
I hear a violin in the distance, a sweet melody with me in this eternal night where I invited my final rush by crushing its wings in the form of applause. As scavengers waiting to feast.
As my tears soaked the pillow, I fall into a deep sleep where nothing is real on waking, nothing sadden my soul and I can get rid of the ropes around my freedom.

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BUTTERFLIES OF THE SEA






The waves of the drowned back and forth between life and death. At the bottom of its waters lie the bodies of sailors and unwary. In the dark depths of the dead speak ...
On the shore, life passes through the tears of widows and the despair of mothers.
One night began the legend of the mysterious beach. Words with the wind and the sea ... the picks. Of the calm waters emerged a bottle with a message. A message from the beyond to make contact with the living. Were the words of a sailor led his young widow
sick since then ... Nothing could console the girl who was left to die of grief. Every day he went to the seashore to mourn for her husband.
In the village there was no talk of anything else. The sea brought messages in bottles. The solace of the living dead. Hundreds of men and women locked up his words and hurled into the depths waiting for prompt response. The miracle is happening day after day.
Love letters, photographs of newborn babies, all that could not be said that in life now from the other world ...
Suddenly, one day the happy family stopped receiving messages. Never again no response. It was as if the sea had given them a truce, a lesson of hope for the afterlife. The dead will live forever in our hearts wherever they are and always remember those left behind.

Legends are just that ... legends. But the sea of \u200b\u200bdrowning has many witnesses to what happened there for several months. The comfort of being able to say goodbye to loved ones made wane punishment of those who stayed ashore.

In memory of the mysterious incident has built a statue of a bottle with a message on the seashore.

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DROWNED AND EAT ALL OF IT ...




hate hypocrisy but I owe it to survive, to feed my evil instincts.
Over the years I learned to cope with another way of life, another phase, a level that not everyone is willing to go. If you try, you never leave.
Eating human flesh was to me the beginning of a new life.
all started as a game with my two roommates. That Saturday came Carlos and Adrian home late. Laughingly tried to open the door without success. I got out of bed and went to help. As Carlos opened the door fell on me and covered her mouth when she screamed ... his hands were bloody. Adrian held in his arms what appeared to be the trunk of a person. I sat up startled and asked what had happened.
Neither replied. They placed the corpse on the kitchen table and sat opposite him. I misplaced their smiles did not understand, I knew I had to do!
I stood in front of them, stunned and totally confused. Adrian suddenly started
a piece of flesh from inert and tasted like the taste the world's most exquisite delicacy. Carlos smiled at me and lunged at the hand of the dead. They were like two hungry wolves. Their teeth by chewing produced a different sound, sticky, very sweet and very tempting ...
never have imagined something like that, but I slowly approached the table and sat next to them. I must admit that was the most morbid situation of my life.
shyly accepted the piece of meat that Adrian gave me. I can never describe that feeling. Raw meat slipped my tongue filling my mouth with an unknown flavor and delicious. The blood still warm invaded my mouth making me squint of pleasure.
That night my companions taught me the game, your routine every night from Saturday to Sunday ... only this time they decided to do it at home so I could be part of their ritual.
I can not explain this to anyone, I'm not proud of it, but I do not regret ... I'm a normal girl
of any city, only to hide a frightening secret for many exciting for us. Every Sunday we eat human flesh. We look to our victim during the week, and we ended up with it. Next Saturday is my turn to go hunting. Be the first time I killed someone and really nervous, but I do think that someone will die morbid to satisfy us, is like a trophy. I can not, I will not stop, every Sunday our ritual is sacred. Take this and eat it ....

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THE PEOPLE OF THE FORGOTTEN




stones between old ways and the pain gnawing my senses sway. Breathe foul air around the wall of spite. Restless Souls bordering the site as a fortress. No one can enter the temple of anger. Ira
by knowing abandoned.
Stacked like firewood, skeletons accumulate in this strange place. It is the people of the forgotten.
wander pensively by the deathbed and feel the silence. I speak, I yelling for me to leave if you do not want to end up like them. In absolute solitude.
I can imagine the faces of each of these people. I look challenging to delve into their grief. Each has its history, unfortunately, its truth.
are forgotten people in a sigh, a breath false heat and cold that left abandoned.

In the village of the forgotten one realizes how sad it is to live knowing that they matter to anyone, even yourself. That in spite of attempts you can do to survive the pain, embrace you when least expected and cornering you in silence to end your suffering.
Today I remember that people, because I can not forget. I can not out of my mind distorted expressions of the hopes, the despair of seeing that life is over and no one holds out his hand to accompany you on the final stretch. Nothing is left now but the anger of what could be and was not, what were left to feel. The anger unleashed by hatred intoxicates your soul.
If you are diligent, you can hear the cries, whispering voices torn and distressed every corner.
is the people of the forgotten, a place that does not even appear on the map because no one else knows.

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AM A two-headed monster







Locked in my world stumble again and again. The daily scenes become grotesque murderer before my eyes caged in a body full of anger.
I can not choose, decisions are taken by my conscience, my real personality.
I surrender to the madness, it is easier to continue living against the grain.

So, as I see, is how I feel when I look in the mirror. I'm a monster with two heads. Two minds who want to cancel each other ... Who wins? ... The strongest, the most terrible and ruthless ... Who loses? ... MY VICTIM.

I can not control my evil I can not go by my instincts, my cruelty.
I know what I am and try to fight it, but I can not, I'm bound and I feel deep a rare pleasure ... and I Cry

smile, and I pray sentenciaré, because my head allows me to do impossible things for others. You are innocent lambs meekly walk through a world made for me.
count on the fingers of one hand the times I have repented of something ... me on the five fingers, because I can not stand the weakness of repentance.

is nature, she has done so and die. I'm a monster with two heads ... Who wins? ... The troubled, the cynical, the most ferocious ... Who loses? HUMANITY.