Gábor nodded and wanted to say something, but Feri approached him in two steps and stabbed him in the stomach.

‘I’m sorry, mate, it’s got to be done. Always got to be done,’ he whispered.

Gábor could feel the hot blood spilling down on his trousers. His flesh was on fire as Feri pulled the blade upwards. Gábor felt debilitated. He had the feeling that he had seen this somewhere before, and a serenity settled over him. It had to be this way. He thought of a mountain, and he felt no fear. His legs gave way and he collapsed into his own blood, which had gathered in a pool.

He wanted to say something, one last thing, anything that came to his mind, but he died before he could do it. He kept his eyes open, to see with them for as long as he could.

Feri watched as life abandoned Gábor. This was his fourth kill, and he liked it. He enjoyed killing people. He knew he would get caught soon. Everyone always gets caught. He was surprised he was not immediately taken in after the murder of Máté, but the car crash provided a perfect alibi.

He watched the body getting colder, and he thought he should be running. Then he noticed the wine bottle. He felt thirsty, like he always did after a kill. He wanted booze and he wanted to fuck.

He reached for the bottle and uncorked it. He took a whiff of the scent; it smelled like alcohol. Maybe wine, or watered down pálinka, he thought. He poured a sample onto his palm. He wanted to make sure it wasn’t antifreeze. Every year a number of alcoholics went blind or died from drinking antifreeze, on purpose or by accident.

But it wasn’t that. It was wine. Feri looked around the garden. It was dawn; he had time. He knew he did. And if anyone saw him, so what? He had his knife on him.

Feri took a swig from the bottle. He wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen.

Later the murder made the news. The police were careful not to specify what had happened, because there just wasn’t any explanation. Gábor’s mother found his body and the other body lying right next to it, in the same position as the first one, with the same type of stab wound, although this one was clearly self-inflicted.

The second body was Gábor too, even though the clothes he had on were different. Two Gábors, dead, facing each other with the same expression on their faces.

There was an empty wine bottle lying between the two of them.

Sky Filled With Crows, Then Nothing at All

Sky Filled With Crows,
Then Nothing at All

‘The psalm turned into heavy metal

It was not the end, only the beginning!

Devil, brother, keep playing!