Tuesday morning, it was eight o'clock in the morning. The room was already bright because the sun was up early already.
  Bright sunshine was shining on an empty bed. It looked slept but there was nobody in the room.
  We have entered the bedroom of Jorge Redondo. Jorge Redondo was a normal man from Porto who has a normal appartment on the outside of the city of Porto.
  And like any other normal man Jorge was not a very special man that you would notice when you passed him in the streets of his hometown.
  Jorge was already up for an hour. He had his breakfast in front of him but could not eat. Today was a special day in the normal life of Jorge.
  Jorge had his green shirt on, the one with the red stripes. This was the shirt he ususally wears when Portugal plays in the European Championships.
  It looked good on him, his mother said, when they bought it together last month.
  And he was wearing his favorite football team's underwear. They were his lucky pair. When he wore them the first time he scored, that is why he wears them.
  They are his lucky shorts.
  
  Jorge put aside the breakfast, and thought "I will take something on the way.", and as he looked at the clock it was already half past eight.
  He knew he could not eat it now anyway. Jorge was nervous. It was only a week ago that he did not know that this was happening. But then suddenly he received a phonecall. It was senor Viola.
  The senor Viola, organizer of the Volta ao Porto. Senor Viola put him, Jorge Redondo, in charge of the sign in of the Volta, one week before the start.
  He, Jorge Redondo, was for once, just once, in his normal life, a special person.
  As he walked to his office for the day, he felt his pace was faster then normal. The sun was shining in his face and he felt like everybody was looking at him.
  His chest went forward and he smiled. It was long ago that he smiled on public roads. He could not remember when, but it must be at least three years ago. The day he won hundred euro in the lottery.
  But this day was far more important. This was his day. He was the centre of attention. He would be in charge and it was his task to let the sign up go smoothly and clean.
  Maybe senor Viola would see his talents. And maybe this was the start of a better future.
  
  He sees his office when he rounds the corner. It is standing there in the morning sun. It looks perfect and Jorge feels if he has the key with him.
  Offcourse he has the key. The key is around his neck next to his cross that his mother bought him when he turned twentyfive. He took them out and kissed both of them.
  Praying that this was going good. As it was nine o'clock, Jorge had time to get some breakfast across the street and as he was standing there, he could not resist to mention to the man in the stand that he would be in charge of today's sign up for this year's Volta.
  Suddenly everybody was looking at him, Jorge felt a weird feeling. It was the feeling of pride. He was the most important person in Porto today.
  And

everybody in here knew that. Jorge was walking out with his head up high and walked around the square before entering his office.
  
  Jorge took his chair and looked at the clock on the church. It was ten o'clock. He had eight hours before he could start his sign up. Time enough to make himself comfortable.
  He had a paper with him and looked on his mobile phone for some news regarding the Volta. He knew they should mention his name once or twice. But it was still early, nothing on the news yet.
  As the shadows on the square shifted from one side to another Jorge knew that his moment was soon to arrive. He had checked all his material and everything was there.
  His shirt was looking good, a true and proud Porto man was standing here. In the office of Volta ao Porto. This was his moment and he knew it and, he knew that everybody in Porto knew it to.
  
  The church bell rang six o'clock. Jorge's hands are a little bit wet. Only twenty minutes for his moment. He would be the most important man in Porto.
  Nothing should go wrong. Everything was in order, the entrance forms were filed on the left and the pens were on the right. If the papers are ready and filled in by the managers they could drop them in the box behind them.
  It said "Sign in forms here". That should be good enough. Yes, this was going good and a smile entered his face when suddenly the sun was shining on his face. Outsiders almost thought Jorge turned into an angel, right there.
  Jorge looked outside. The square was empty only a pair of birds where in front of his office. They flew away when they saw him starring.
  The clock was standing still for Jorge but the fingers slowly passed every minute. Only ten minutes left. Jorge was proud, nervous, happy and scared all in once.
  Time was ticking by. Only nine minutes and Jorge felt a strange vibe around the square. It should be full with people. Full with spectators that would see him at work.
  But there was nothing. No old men hanging on benches, no childeren playing. It was not yet time for dinner, not in Porto anyway.
  Jorge suddenly noticed that on the square there were no birds, no cats, nothing.
  
  He was standing in the square wondering over so much silence in the middle of Porto that he almost forgot the time. Five minutes before sign up and he needed to sit in his office.
  Every minute the first manager would wander around the corner to sign up for his tour, his Volta.
  As he sat there, waiting for what should come to him, the serene silence was a little bit disturbed by some rumble from beyond. At first it was unnoticable for Jorge but suddenly it even reached his ears.
  A little rumble mixed with rumours. "Women", Jorge thought. But the rumour slowly increased in volume and he saw birds fly away from behind the building behind the church.
  The twenty sign in forms were slightly shifted and the pens on his desk had moved a little, thus Jorge re-arranged them again. While re-arranging the clock was about to shift from 18:19 to 18:20. Jorge could see that in the corner

of his eye.
  But his other eye caught a glimpse of the corner across the street.
  What he saw made his heart skip a beat or two.
  
  These were no women. These were some uncivilized bunch of men with eyes of madmen. Foam was around their faces and with mouths and eyes wide open, screaming primal sounds towards his office while running to it and pushing and hitting each other.
  Sweat was suddenly all over Jorge's body and face. His hands changed from moist to wet and his face turned a little green white. Some pens dropped on the floor and so did half of the twenty sign in forms.
  Meaning ten managers could get some immediatly but ten had to wait. And these people did not look like they liked waiting.
  Jorge suddenly tried to pick up the papers and pencils while opening the door for them. This did not work very well and some papers flew outside. As he noticed the men he recognized them as the managers of division two.
  On his square, for his Volta, he saw at least forty managers wresteling for those papers that flew on the street. "I have only twenty!!" and that thought made Jorge really scared.
  In panic he threw the other forms in the air as he noticed some managers were looking at him and his papers. He ran inside the building again and locked the door.
  Jorge thought he was safe there, but they have seen him and they saw what he had inside. Inside was the thing they needed. The sign in box.
  Fifty managers ran to his office and broke his door down. Rolling over eachother forms where ripped from hands and adjusted with another teamname. Some forms had six names on it and each name was at least crossed twice.
  Jorge thought his last hour was near. When suddenly he heard nothing. Nothing, no screams, no fighting, no running, but he heard some birds whistle again.
  Jorge looked over his table and saw nothing. The clock was laying on the floor. It was 18:24 and it was all over.
  When Jorge opened the box he saw the sign in papers. He took them out and counted them.
  He had nineteen. Nineteen.... he must have counted wrong. Still nineteen. There was one missing. Jorge was looking for it but could not find it.
  
  At seven o'clock senor Viola entered the office and found it was barely standing and on the table he found nineteen sign in forms with the mentioned teams on it. But Jorge was not there and neither was form twenty.
  His house was finally rented out to some other normal guy. And his mother moved to her birthplace. The Redondo's were no more in Porto.
  A Redondo is now the local word for complete failure.
  And Jorge, they saw Jorge was seen in Brasil and in Guinnee. But that is not sure. Jorge was never really seen by the people, Jorge was ashamed of what he had done.
  Jorge was no longer the Jorge from before the Volta. Will the Volta be still be Volta as we know?
  
  Stay tuned for the day by day coverage!
  
  Written by pundit Finz from
  NightmareChaos to OCM Magazine