Siempre me he considerado un buen cuentista y espero que este libró sea del agrado del público , aunque no entiendo muy bien como se maneja la publicidad en Amazon.
I've been writting short stories for quite a while ago and I've decided to publish a book on kindle , This tales are quite frightening horror fantasy stories and i would like That people get to read some of these tales , in fact here I show you a sample story , the book is in spanish but i think That sharing This translated story wont afectt the sales of the book
This is called : the body sculptor
The study was stinking on a nauseating way. The stench crossed its way all over the house giving Andres a warm and sweet sensation . His biggest project was a reality and tough that terrible smell was a bit annoying, it also was a reminder of his tremendous artistic success. He always had dreamed about that exhibition of grim art; when the local authorities grant him permission of using dead human bodies (used in clinical research) to make his pieces of macabre art, he was overjoyed.
He always had behaved like an hypocrite because in the artistic field that's often the easiest way to make connections and get the required exposure. When he leaved his natal city in order to pursue wealth and fame he never thought that he would reach such achievements at his age.
He was only thirty-two years old and he had gained fame like very few artist in recent history; life was good for him. He didn't only triumph in his artistic career on his national ground, instead of that, he only had to struggle a couple years to have a worldwide recognition.
And his fame only seemed to grow more and more because of the arrangements of that outrageous exhibit.
Andres was extremely happy for the fact that his next gallery exposition was a granted tremendous hit.
But that was not what mattered, nor the recognition or the wealth and fame that this would carry.
No. That was meaningless to him. It was all about something much more personal.
When he was a little boy he had these recurrent dream, in which he seemed to be in the midst of an horrifying rain of human body parts. He felt terror to be contemplating such scene , but he also had another feeling. Yes. It was awe.
Awe to see how he could put those pieces together to make them look aesthetic.
It was kind of a weird dream but Andres was very exited every night he had it; this exhibition was the culmination of that sleeping delusion. He had made it . Not only did he made his dream of being a recognized master artist come true, but he also had the chance of showing off his wildest dream to the public. Not many artist can say that...
But destiny had a terrible twist prepared for the young master. He didn't knew that he wasn't alone in his house. Soon he would realize that ambition with no boundaries has terrible consequences...
It was 3 in the morning when Andres finished working on the main piece of his new art collection. It was the figure of a centaur with two human torsos, which seemed to reflect a violent scene of two warriors fighting on top of one horse. It was an overwhelming spectacle because of the gory look of the skinless bodies. In every human statue of this collection the muscles were exposed.
It was really a grotesque image but the crudeness of that statue would fascinate anyone. The artist was sure of it.
Suddenly, when he was beholding the macabre silhouettes that surrounded him, the images of those skinless dead bodies seemed to come alive. At that second he admitted that the aspect that his statues had to offer was a little gruesome.
Andres headed over the study's exit which granted entrance to the house hall, when out of a sudden he stopped when he heard the sound of a paint can falling out of a shelf at the other side of the gigantic room. He had just turned out the lights of the study so the look of the room was even scarier. He reached for the power switch on a blinding darkness, stumbling upon one of his artworks. The statue fell over him, it was the body of a young woman that had died out of an unknown disease. At that second the statue seemed to enter the world of the living once again.
The artist got up, terrified. The paint can could wait to be picked up in the morning, thought Andres, when he heard another sound. It was the sorry and sad lament of the undead; that sound gave cold shivers to the master artist, who ran out desperately towards to rooms exit. Step by step the seconds seemed to last eternally . He was about to make his way to the door when out of the blue two statues blocked his way.
Then, all the exhibition began to move in the most anti natural way, like sinister marionettes, creating the image of a hellish puppet show. The artist realized that this was his end. How ironic, that man was gonna be killed by his own creation...
"Maybe someday" he thought as his last comfort " I'll be exposed on an exhibition like this" .
Here is a link to the book in Amazon
Aquí un link al libro en Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00QFOMHQK
