Terror in the night - José Vicente Ortuño

"My husband wants to kill me," the woman told to the policeman.

“Do you have any proof?”, he said.

She showed the bruises he had across the body.

"This should fix it", he said.

“Are you going to arrest him?” She said wistfully.

"No", replied him, then drew his baton and hit the woman until death.

“Whores, all of you are bloody whores!", exclaimed the policeman. The woman lay dead at his feet.

Suddenly a dark figure rushed at him and put a knife on his neck.

"Don’t move", whispered the stranger. “That you have done is wrong, very wrong.”

The police issued an unintelligible yelp and urinated in his pants. The baton fell to the ground.

"Don’t whine, did you had pity of her?”

The knife severed the jugular. The blood flowed and the stranger drank it with delight, while the policeman body convulsed to death.

"Wasting food is really bad", said the predator, going away from the scene of his latest crime and searching another victim.

He soon discerned a figure walking without hiding among the shadows. She was a young woman. Thinking in her fresh and nutritious blood makes him salivary. The dam stopped in an alley. He crept behind. She turned.

"I was looking for you”, she said, her voice was icy cold. Then she looked at him with eyes deep and cold, like two bottomless pits. Meanwhile a disembodied hand entered in his chest and gripped his heart. Then he realized the horror of their victims facing Death.

The Book - José Vicente Ortuño

"Mr. Wells," the stranger said, "I have something very important to tell you."
"I'm very busy, Mr...."
"Professor Polycarpus Uchronus," the man said. "I'm from the Polytechnical University of Valencia.
"I've never heard of that university," Herbert George Wells said as he tried to put further distance between himself and the strange character who had been following him.
"Well it's just that... well, the way I'd put it is," the professor stammered, "it's just that it doesn't exist yet."
"Ah, well!" Wells exclaimed. "Then send me a note when it is to built; I would be enchanted to deliver an inaugural address. Good-bye, good day."
"Allow me to tell you something," the professor insisted, "then I'll leave you in peace. I promise."
"All right," Wells conceded, tired. "Let us sit on this bench for a few minutes. Then I must return to work, you know."
"Thank you, Mr. Wells, I won't take any more of your precious time than necessary." Professor Ucronos laughed as though he had said something funny.
Once seated, the scientist from the future began to explain, "Look, Mr. Wells, I come from the future, from the Twenty-fifth Century. I happen to know that in 1895 you will publish a book entitled 'The Time Machine'. This novel will become the inspiration for generations of scientists.
"Really?" Wells said with an interested look.
"Of course. I myself, having read it as a child, became obsessed with attempting to construct a similar machine. Finally I succeeded, and I have come to meet the person responsible and to thank him."
Wells rose, smiling, and extended his hand to the visitor from the future.
"Thank you professor. I thank you for having bothered to come from so far... from the future. I will think of you as I write my novel," he said amiably, and he walked away with long strides.
Professor Ucronos, satisfied with having turned one of his dearest dreams into reality, returned to the 25th Century. Wrapped in an aura of scientific bliss, he sat down at his desk, on which he had left a copy of "The Time Machine". But his satisfaction turned to dismay as he examined it. The title had changed. The cover now read: Cooking recipes for refined persons.