In the soft morning light of November 1st, 1970, Monsieur Normil, a man whose face bore the marks of years but was imbued with wisdom, stood at the foot of the rocky slope leading to the home of his longtime friend, Albert. Firmly gripping a cane in his hand, he leaned on it to support each of his steps, his slightly stooped silhouette bearing witness to years of life and experience.
As usual, Monsieur Normil paused briefly on his ascent and called out to his friend with a sharp voice, echoing in the calm morning air.
- Old runner ! Get your butt down here, it's hunting time.
With his rifle securely strapped to his back, Monsieur Normil heard nothing but the cries of animals in the environment, mingling with the sounds of the surrounding nature on this peaceful morning.
- Albert ! You're mistaken if you think I'm climbing this slope to come get you. Stop playing lazy and show me your backside, he said again, with a firmer and more humorous tone.
Monsieur Normil's eyes remained fixed on his friend's wooden house, scrutinizing every detail with keen attention. Yet, despite his repeated calls, he received no response.
- Unbelievable, he muttered irritably. Don't tell me you forgot about me again... or that you've left without me.
After a slight pause, Monsieur Normil waved his cane towards Albert's cabin, shouting, attempting to attract his friend's attention with increasing urgency.
- Albert ! Don't make me lose my patience. Your lame joke isn't funny. Come on out quickly, or I'll leave without you.
Monsieur Normil began to grow frustrated at his old friend Albert's obstinate silence, despite his numerous attempts to call out. He turned back, muttering :
- Who does this old snob think he is...
A few meters from his longtime friend's house, Monsieur Normil turned to check if his companion had finally reacted to his repeated interventions. But to his dismay, he saw no silhouette and heard no sound coming from the house. This time, he gazed at his friend's territory with growing concern, his mind troubled by the darkest thoughts about his friend's fate.
- Maybe something happened to him, he thought, furrowing his brow.
Monsieur Normil took two steps towards his friend's house but stopped abruptly, hesitating. Not only would it take him far too long to climb the rocky slope, but also, given his reduced mobility, he would not be of much help to Albert if something had happened to him. He decided to return home and seek reinforcements, recognizing that the situation required additional help to assist his friend Albert.
Less than an hour later, Albert's house was crowded with people shouting his name left and right, worried about his fate and determined to find him safe and sound.
- Albert ! Albert ! Albert !
Still at the foot of the slope leading to his friend's home, Monsieur Normil remained planted, watching with concern the commotion around Albert's home. Then, Hugues, his son-in-law, appeared on the rocks and shook his head negatively, signaling to Monsieur Normil that his fears were unfortunately well-founded.
- Are you sure you've looked everywhere? his son-in-law asked him with an anxious look. Keep searching, my boy, he ordered gently, leaning on his stick.
Hugues cautiously advanced along the rocky slope, his steps echoing in the silence of the mountain. Suddenly, a misstep caused him to lose his balance, and he tumbled down, carried by the rolling stones under his feet, his silhouette blending into the rugged relief of the mountain. He consulted Monsieur Normil to ensure he was in good physical and mental condition.
Hugues' father-in-law leaned slightly on him, and a grimace of pain crossed his face as he closed his eyes, seeking to alleviate the uncomfortable sensation coursing through him.
- Father ! Are you okay ?
Faced with his long silence, Hugues took the initiative to offer to take him back home, but he quickly declined, probably to avoid being an additional source of inconvenience.
- Maybe he went out for a walk, his son-in-law muttered awkwardly.
- What aren't you telling me, son ?
Then, he touched his chest and stammered :
- You know, I have... I have a bad feeling.
YOU ARE READING
BLOODY CITY
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