Eis a primeira narração que eu escrevi pra Cultura que eu achei legal. Ponto.
(O tema era sobre alguma coisa de viajantes, então eu não tive muita liberdade, rs. Quis fugir um pouco da rotina, então resolvi fazer uma coisa bem maluca. :P) Tá, vou calar loga a minha boca e escrever. rs.
Lagard, although brightly, had the sun risen that morning. I couldn't tell what made me wake up in time to see it show up, neither why I decided to stay in that town for more than a while. My plans were straight: I would go to my uncle's house in a big city, perhaps stopping in other places to rest my nights. But something in that little town drew my interest, which was enough to make me stay.
There was no one at the inn at the time. I supposed they may all have been sleeping, after that lively night from the day before. I left my bags at my room and went out for a walk. The city was all filled with cottages and small stores, which were all closed. It came to me with peaceful airs, as the perfect place to unwind.
As hours were going by, I started to odd that nobody would actually leave their homes; there was still no one at the streets, and it was almost lunch time. As I felt hungry, I went back to the inn and took some food I had brought with me. There was still no one at the reception. This town looked just as quiet as it was desert.
Had this made my interest dash and be replaced by dread, I decided to leave some money in the room and exit this town. But as I took my car and searched for the entrance from which I had walked into this place, i realized it had been locked. I couldn't get out.
I took the afternoon looking for a way of getting out of this weird village in which no one appears, and it was 5 p.m. when I first saw someone, opening the windows of his cottage. I stopped the car and asked this old man what happens in this town.
"What happens, son, is that this town only works at night. People sleep during the day, and enjoy the night. Few people have come here as foreigners and left. From what I heard, they all ended up living here. Every 4 a.m. the mayor locks the only entrance so that no one comes in and disturbs our town while everyone is sleeping. He hates foreigners because they can never adapt to our lifestyle and always leave the day after. I must tell you, the only way for you to leave is at night, when the door is open.", told me the man. Now I see why that city looked so lively when I got there at night.
However, along with the sunset and the moon's arrival, there came my tiredness and hunger. I could remember very clearly why I had to come to this place at first, and it was because the road nearby was dark and dangerous. I could in no way travel at night. These thoughts frightened my way back to the inn, where I could already appear to find some movement. People were waking up and I would finally be able to eat something.
I have had my dinner silently lost in my thoughts and decided to visit that man again that night - he looked worried and willing to help. Being lucky, I could get out of here tomorrow.
Having knocked on his door, his face appeared to me in a broad and old smile. "You again!", he said. I explained to him why I couldn't get out at night, how I needed to be on my uncle's house way, and finally that he was my only and last hope. I needed his help.
He quietly listened to everything I had to say, and we sketched a plan. I was fortunate to have found a man who knew exactly how it all worked there and the mayor strategies - he used to be friends with him, but these extreme attitudes from the latter related to foreigners had caused a row.
After a tense night of sleep, I got all my things packed and parked my loaded car in front of the man's house. he took me to the mayor's house, and I had to break into it and get the key. Fortunately he knew where it was; but unfortunately I felt like a burglar and I still want to convince myself it was only a way of getting out safely.
We went back to the old man's cottage and got into the car, so that I could get away. My accomplice - even though I dislike this definition - would unlock the entrance and then put the keys back in the mayor's house. I never thought I would make anyone break into another one's house. Well, amazing how life surprises us.
Once I got here at my uncle's house, I unpacked my baggage. In it I found a kind of post card, which reminded me of that weird town. In it was written: "Come back whenever, son."
Well, I won't. And I am not his son. Whoever the freak is it.