BLOODY CITY

PUSHED TO HIS LIMITS

Still in the Balan cemetery, Henry stood up, taking his torch with him. He briefly examined the mule before heading towards his wife's grave. His resolute gaze, filled with determination, pierced the darkness of the cemetery as he walked with steady steps. His thoughts were focused on the tribute he was about to pay to the one he had loved so dearly, his determination to honor her memory clearly evident on his face.

Close to her burial site, he read the funerary monument, his fingers tracing the engraved letters with tangible emotion. Each word reminded him of precious memories, making his heart beat with poignant intensity.

Joséphine Désir Lemoine

January 12, 1933 - August 26, 1954

May the earth be light upon you

Henry crouched down and placed the torch, faintly illuminating the grave with its flickering light. He glanced once more at the withered willow shading his wife's tomb, feeling the weight of his loss in the cemetery's silence.

He regretted neglecting the two women in his life, as the beauty of the tomb did not match the immense love he felt for her. He made the sign of the cross and whispered a prayer, his words filled with tenderness and sadness as he paid his respects to his beloved's grave.
- Here I am, my darling! I'm here tonight to fulfill your dearest wish. The one to reunite us together again, he confessed with difficulty. I don't know if it will work or not, but I sincerely hope so, Henry added, wiping the tears streaming down his cheeks.

Then, he tenderly caressed the tomb and continued:
- I loved seeing you every night in my dreams, even if it was to threaten me. After all, you've always been this woman full of fire and life... I miss you so much, he declared in a sob.

After a few moments of confession and monologue, Henry felt a spark of determination ignite within him. With renewed inner strength, he gathered his courage, standing up slowly.

He approached his mule and unloaded Albert, still deeply asleep. He unzipped the bag to make sure Albert was still breathing. Once reassured of his regular breathing, he took him out of the bag and laid him carefully on the ground.

Then, he went to the mule and pulled out his pickaxe, gloves, and shovel. He quickly inspected them to ensure they were ready to be used, then stored them in his equipment, ready to begin his work. Major equipment for digging up his daughter Anna's body.

Henry glanced around to make sure there was no one nearby, aware that the sinking of the tools into the ground would make a lot of noise. Once convinced they were alone, he prepared to start the work cautiously, aiming to minimize the risks of being discovered in this delicate and forbidden endeavor.

Then, he looked at his watch and saw that he only had three quarters of an hour left to unearth the corpse, trace the pentagram, place the bodies, and recite the ritual. Time was running out, and every second was precious. Henry knew he had to act quickly and precisely if he wanted to succeed in bringing his daughter back to life.

Midnight was crucial for reciting the ritual. It was the hour when occult forces were the strongest, and Henry knew he had to respect this crucial deadline if he wanted the ritual to succeed.

Henry said one last prayer and began to pickaxe and shovel. Each stroke of the pickaxe piercing the ground tore at his heart and soul in anguish. The noise echoed in the silence of the night, testifying to his relentless effort to achieve his goal, even if it meant facing the darkness of the beyond.

Despite the coolness of the autumn wind, sweat beads formed on his forehead. Between the image of his wife haunting his nights and the accusing gaze of his daughter, Henry had to put an end to his series of nightmares and take control of his life again. Regardless of whether the ritual worked or not, he had to give it his all.