The Devil Beneath The chapel
A man dressed in all black, standing nearing the front church like he has been there all day long watching me.
I froze, looking at him. He was tall, very tall with dark hair slightly brushed over his fore head, shadows showed the hard lines of his face. Tattoos disappeared under his collar of his black shirt barely visible on his skin. But it was his eyes that stopped me from breathing. It looked cold, calm and unreadable, not the wild wickedness I saw in felix eyes.
No, this felt worse, controlled anger. Like the kind that didn’t need to talk to destroy someone, lightening flashed again for few seconds white light reflected from the window then shined on the cross behind me. Making the man