Um dos primeiros textos que escrevi em inglês...

A shadow was cast by the thick fog. It was no ordinary fog. It was a black cloud that made it impossible to see further than a couple inches in front of me.  Though I couldn’t see her, I could smell her. She smelled like all of the people that were gone, all the ones who had let me down. And I could feel her. Oh, yes, I could feel her like if I saw her. She was just standing there, next to me, whispering to my ear sweet and captivating words, with a chilling, cold and deep voice. Her voice was like a winter breeze. Slow, silent, and freezing. Now I see her. She beckons me, seducing me into going with her. I think about all the thing I would left behind. I would left nothing, since She has already stolen me everything I stood for – my love, my friends, my family. And now, She came back to claim my life… What life? I’m only a shallow skin, for my soul has long departed with her. But only my soul wasn’t enough, and my body would have to belong to her as well. Her black mantle flows with the wind. Her voice starts sounding more unnerved and anxious. She knows that I am almost giving in to its chanting, but She feels frustrated that I don’t give myself to her. My body is weak and I can longer fight the temptation. She whispers me again, demanding that I say the words to make me belong to her. And I say, weakly and lowly: Oh, Death who wants me, come and get my soul, or at least what’s left of it. Her fiery-red eyes locked into mine. She laughed uncontrollably, savoring her victory. She is used to wining, I can tell that, but Death never gets tired of it.