Anthology of wounds - Arct

Anthology of Woundswas closed. But it was not blocked and I had not how tonotify that I was there I cried loudly as if I was beforeMirdita’s towers” Do you want guests , sir?. I laughedagain. But after a while I was serious again. I was afraidthat Saint Pjetri didn’t understand me. At the end hecame and opened the door. I told him shortly who I was.And it was not difficult because I still remind the wordssaid for me in the graveyard.Oh! - he said - You are the priest that has neverstopped! As you have been a preacher you know thatyou can’t enter paradise, without balancing very wellthe good and bad things you have done in that life. Andlet’s see what the balance will weight from. He openeda little that gate and let me do only one step inside. Ithought I had to deal with Saint Mehilli. I had preachedmany times for him and for his balance, from which itdepends if we will or not see the God face. But I saw aman with a walking stick in his hand. He was EnverHoxha. He was in white, and he had some big wingsthe same as the main angels on the pictures. I got reallyafraid. I cried but not saying right the words: “Saint PeterMelon (pjeter-pjeper in Albanian), but this man is notSaint Mehilli. Do you know who this man is? He is thedevil. Deviiiiiiil! My voice rumbled on the sky. I trembledmyself from this ghost voice. This man coming now withthe stick in its hand tortured my body. Now he wouldtortured even my soul the same way, trying to bake it inhell flame. Saint Pjetri closed the ears with his hands.“Why do you cry like this you the preachers of Albania!You are so late on time! You are so old timed! God callsSaint Mehilli for an urgent job. This man is his substitute.And don’t be afraid. This man have entered regularlyin the paradise according to the rules of the catho-134