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I fell asleep cold and damp and uncomfortable on the bare, sheetless loft bed in the big abandoned house on the hill. Narcisa sat on the cold floor below, using the only blanket as a pillow for her lazy self-centered ass while she smoked crack and admired herself shamelessly for hours in the mirror, flirting with herself, checking out her tits, her south-bound sagging ass, seducing herself, making love to whatever’s left of herself with her eyes, her whole being. A disgusting, depressing self-centered display of undisguised narcissism.I couldn’t get near the bitch of a creature that posessed her now more and more with every hit she took, she just pushed me aside and continued her dark, heartless psychopathic journey into the hellish realms of self-obsession in that accursed mirror.I was getting tired of waiting for the next fuck, great as the last one had been. And I knew it wasn’t gonna happen. Till her crack supply ran dry. Like a hungry buzzard, I hovered and waited..Finally I just couldn’t take it anymore. I crawled up into the loft bed and put in the earplugs and fell right asleep..Half an hour later I awoke to a sharp tap on my shoulder. I jumped up with a start, thinking it was Narcisa, finally bored with her own ash grey raccoon-faced image in the mirror, waking me up for a fuck, a touch of human companionship, warmth, company, money, cigarettes, something, anything to lift her up out of whatever dark pit she’d gotten herself lost in, sucking on that little funnel to hell, staring into the deep pools of insanity of her own crack-addled eyes.I looked around in the dark. It wasn’t Narcisa in the bed with me.It was something, but it wasn’t her.I looked down and there she was, still sitting there transfixed before the mirror, staring at herself. Obsessed. Lost. Gone.

Then I felt it again. Some ghostly hand touching me.This time I was wide awake. I screamed out loud.I could feel goosebumps covering my body as I scrambled down the ladder. She barely glanced in my direction as I threw on my clothes and stumbled toward the door.Just as I was about to close the door behind me, I glanced over at her and I saw it.Saw it in her face. The same something that had awakened me with a scream and a chill from a sound sleep.She had finally managed to open some terrible portal, casting an ugly spell of self-obsession on herself and somehow unleashed an entity… a heartless, inhuman, hateful lower spirit being into herself, into the room, into the world.Great.She continued staring at herself in the mirror. I picked up my case of heebie-jeebies and got the fuck out of there in a hurry.Two minutes later I was sitting at the lively, brightly lit paderia Santo Amaro, surrounded by busy little people having their morning coffee, on their way to work. Old Roberto Carlos music was playing on the radio. Busses and taxis were rumbling down the street. The sun was emerging in the 6 am sky.I drank my coffee and tried to muster up the courage to go back up there and try one more time to rescue Narcisa from the deadly malevolant curse of herselfFinally after 2 cups of coffee and a half a dozen cigarettes, I got on the bike and rode back up to the house on the hill. The House On The Hill. It sounds like some old horror movie, doesn’t it?It was….As I climbed the creaking old wooden stairs to the room where she sat, I could swear I saw something indistinct darting in the shadowy hall.I opened the door and there she was, still sitting where I’d left her half an hour before. Sitting in front of the mirror, fucking around with her god damned crack pipe, opening the gates to some occult hell I’d rather not know about, but for as long as I’m under her spell, there’s no real escape from.I stood in the middle of the room and looked at her. She looked up. Somehow she looked more human in the soft emerging light of day now.”What’s up?” I said curtly.”My last hit,” she mumbled.Great. The beginning of a new mission. Or sleep…Whatever.

viewfromahill, originally uploaded by Scab Vendor.

I walked out onto the balcony and sat down looking out over the bay, watching the bright red sun of morning emerge, listening to the squawking bird sounds and the distant rumble of the awakening frantic machine of the city as Narcisa sat in her ash strewn corner with her last hit, awakening God knows what from the invisable Underworld closing in all around us now…..Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2008. All Rights Reserved.NOTIFIÇAO: Os eventos neste site são contos de ficção - registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor, Jonathan Shaw. Os personagens mencionados são interamente ficticios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa vivo ou morta se trata de pura coincidência.As vários fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.