18 A HUMID NIGHT

A poor man ran for his life between a long shadowy corridor almost devoid of end in which only one might hear the crakle of the steps when he kicked the floor in which his feet beats with every stride he gave with strength on the groundsoaked trying to scape of his persistent persecutor, the fright could feel on the atmosphere it might smeel it in the ambient the fear that he felt, the scare in his eyes and the desesperation on his face thinking in merely one thing, run for himself, for the same life run of his captor who tried to catch at him, and when he stopped to breath, some steps heard near but it was too late when he turned to look at the mouth that swallowed him