Post by account_disabled on Dec 23, 2023 5:17:31 GMT -5
He had lost his way. Having reached the snow-capped peak, almost at 2000 metres, he had decided to return by another route, descending the opposite side and thus completing a tour that would have allowed him to see new views. The thick, compact snow had given way to a thin layer of snow mixed with mud and fallen leaves, which made the descent difficult. From there he walked through a forest of bare, moss-covered beech trees to a path that took him straight to the gate of a private property.
It was ajar. A field stretched beyond it, and a large deserted hut rose from the muddy ground. He walked past them. Further on he encountered a dirt road that connected private fields, fenced and immersed in the Special Data silence of the late afternoon. He walked along it, hoping to meet some living soul and ask for information. Along the road, a large disused excavator, with the windows of the cabin broken and the metal parts all rusty, clashed with the bucolic landscape around it, like the off-road vehicle, abandoned a little further on, with the vegetation that had begun to grow inside. Then he saw a tuff building, without doors or windows, left unfinished, as if the work had suddenly ended and never been resumed.
He went further, that landscape worried him and the evening was falling over the whole countryside. That's when he saw the man. A goat herder, cheering the animals on with hoarse cries, was right below him, on land further down the valley. He went down to meet him, but when he got down he stifled a cry of terror. A slaughtered goat was hanging from a tree, tied to a noose. He started to turn around, but felt a rope tighten around his neck and his feet were lifted off the ground. He tried to kick and scream, but a blade cut his throat, muffling his screams.
It was ajar. A field stretched beyond it, and a large deserted hut rose from the muddy ground. He walked past them. Further on he encountered a dirt road that connected private fields, fenced and immersed in the Special Data silence of the late afternoon. He walked along it, hoping to meet some living soul and ask for information. Along the road, a large disused excavator, with the windows of the cabin broken and the metal parts all rusty, clashed with the bucolic landscape around it, like the off-road vehicle, abandoned a little further on, with the vegetation that had begun to grow inside. Then he saw a tuff building, without doors or windows, left unfinished, as if the work had suddenly ended and never been resumed.
He went further, that landscape worried him and the evening was falling over the whole countryside. That's when he saw the man. A goat herder, cheering the animals on with hoarse cries, was right below him, on land further down the valley. He went down to meet him, but when he got down he stifled a cry of terror. A slaughtered goat was hanging from a tree, tied to a noose. He started to turn around, but felt a rope tighten around his neck and his feet were lifted off the ground. He tried to kick and scream, but a blade cut his throat, muffling his screams.