Tag Archive original

The hat_ il cappello

The hat

— Read in Italian —

— Read the previous one —

At the market

Markets are complex places, full of colours and voices. Sometimes theatre and cinema try to replace the murmur of crowd just saying

Walla Walla

All together. But if you have experience of markets, you won’t be fooled. Maybe I’m not as useful as a pair of shoes or as precise as a watch, but I know how people yell in a market. I also know how winter changes the market itself. I’m familiar with winter, the season in which I, an humble hat, suddenly become important.

The life of a hat

In between this indistinct chattering and yelling, this human crowd murmuring, a hand takes me, another tries me over his head and looks at me in his reflection. I don’t have any advice to give to anyone, but that skull is too big for me, while that one has a sweaty forehead. In case they’d buy me, I would fly at the first wind blow and then who’d spend a minute to pick me up from a puddle?

No respect for hats, that’s all. Not even for gentleman’s hats.

This guy

Right now there’s a guy coming towards me. He’s not good looking and has a serious grim, but the shape of his head is perfect for me. Sure, we’re a lot here. So many hats to choose from, even though I feel I’m more elegant than a fedora,  a panama, a bowler, or a flat cap. Oh, I said that, didn’t I? He chose me! He wears me perfectly and pulls me over his eyes. Homburg is always a good choice.

Hmpf

Mumble in appreciation to the salesman

It’s only 30

Hmpf

Reply the man, not happy about the price. So the price drops to

25? I think it’s honest for a hat like this one

Hmpf

He left!

He answers back once again, still not happy about the price suggested by the salesman, and he quits. No, you small head salesman, go after him, stop him, he seems to have the perfect head shape. And probably some story to tell. With a head like that, it will be a shame not to understands his end.

No, no, wait! are you going for real? It was a joke, you see. I would never let you go without this hat. Wait, my friend. I say, wait! Let’s make it 20, deal?

Hmpf

Answers happily the guy with the perfect skull. The head of the salesman makes a lot of small wrinkles of happiness, while we leave fast out of that screaming mass of people

That face, that face

The hat_ il cappello
The hat_ il cappello

That square, that cube to solve in every side and every lost colour. The door opens, bringing the smell of forgotten, of dust, paper. Small pieces of wall, white, are in the ground as a reminder of a sad white and black carnival passed.

The room is simple, with a small red table. On the door, an elephant drawing, that the time discoloured.

The eyes watch down, the back bend and all together with the hands they try to find a drawer. Inside the drawer, a lot of random papers, the dark side that was forgotten, giving the back to the sun. Elephants, leaves, clouds, mountains and tubers, but no trace of a face. Why I know he’s searching for a face? He just keeps repeating

That face, that face, that face, hmpf

What a face looks like?

As a hat I don’t really know a lot, I’m just a thing, an element useful to repair heads from sun and rain. But one thing I know it’s that the faces are ovals, with a nose in the middle, two red or dark strips horizontal under the nose, with which the faces can yellto call yellow cars. Over the nose two things called eyes coloured the world and the soft one on the side record the sounds. And keep hats on, most of the time. On top of the heads, you’ll find most of the time a natural hat, called hair.

It’s him

So, a face is roughly as simple as that. Oh, the boy just finds out a face. The face is long, with a nose long and narrow as a finger and two small moustaches as commas over the lips. If only that man would buy me, with that moustaches I would be a star! The hands now are shaking, while they found a small note on the side of the paper

His name is S. Follow him

And next week, the End! (of the second chapter)

Read the first chapter!

This story will be published once per week only, with all rights reserved for the story and its translations by Flyingstories.org and in the person of Daniele Frau.

All the graphics are handmade and designed with different techniques by Gabriele Manca, DMQ productions, who reserves all rights. 

All English articles published in Souls (alive) proofread by Elisabeth Corcoran

A corpse that... un corpo che...

A corpse that… speaks?

— Read in Italian —

— Read the previous one —

A corpse

that

speaks

Do you believe in reincarnation?

M. il medico_ The doctor

The doctor

— Read in Italian —

— Read the previous one —

I’m a humble wristwatch

Time

Time is just a matter of rhythm. The bigger is the space, the easier is to see that movement stretch until it dissolves completely. Here, then, in this small controlled space, time seems to be small, tiny. A midget of time, in the big circus of lights and planets. And yet, you cannot open a door that a second seems to fly away, together with some whitish yellowish body.

Vendetta!

Vendetta!

— Read in Italian —

— Read the previous one —

Searching for the salesman

Glassy eyes, like the ones emotionless of a big doll. The guy, as everyone always calls him, is looking motionless at the door. No, it’s not an entrance or an exit what he’s searching for, but a bit of rest. Here, on the ground abandoned, lays the letter, still open

Not being able to help you when you needed, that’s my disease, not being able to see what you really could be, but nothing ever let me be happier than seeing you coming to this world

From negative…

All negative sentences, as someone whose intent is to prepare for the worst, put the hands ahead. Like the day your younger cousin asks you to come with him for the first ride alone in the car and you just try to press on an invisible brake. This seems to be the purpose of that incipit, that continued

I wish I could have the force to rise my head and fight for you that night

…to conditional

From negative phrases to a conditional one, you can see you’re close to the truth. A doubt, anyways, a carcinogenic shadow spider of the thoughts, cannot stop oppressing the eyes of the guy. It was only a feeling of guilt without hope or a real immense love the one his grandma always showed to him? How could she hide a fact so important for so long, letting it mutate in a cancer and letting the soul itself suffer? If she would just have the bravery to say something like

I know how things were and it wasn’t easy to hide it from you for so long. What I know is that if I’d told you this before, probably now I wouldn’t be sick, and you weren’t reading these lines suspended by those stones that are my tears.

A small detail

Yet, it’s not the grandma what matters right now. She helped doing so, but someone else is the one who actually did it. If he wants to find out whom, he needs to focus on another detail. The night of the accident for example

Vendetta!
Vendetta!

There was three or four in the morning, when a young man knocked the door followed by a doctor. Do you remember, you used to like doctor B. It was Christmas Eve and your dad was crying all day in his room. In that room you could see all the misery of a widow, a half man without purpose, getting grey among the rooms of his memory. And then there were you, the happiness embodied, the fire able to get warm the entire house. You were drawing as always in your room, laying in your bed. At the time you were into elephants, I remember. I didn’t know what to do, those man passed through the stairs leaving your dad in his room, searching for some useless music he couldn’t find in the air.

A white soul

Then the letter continues with all the details, how they had to restrain him, knock him out and drive him to death, in order to extract his soul. A white soul, so bright that it makes everyone laugh, even his father downstairs in his room. The doctor, at the last moment, seemed to feel it was wrong, and they pushed him out. Everything seems to be so smooth, but something else should be important, right there

Who was that salesman?

I don’t know how to describe the face of that man, the salesman. everything was so rapid, my small snail. I remember the wanted to speak to you, before. I don’t know if it was just to distract you, or maybe to understand if that soul was the real one. Maybe the doctor wanted to stop everything and he was trying to find a way to do so.

The soul sketched it!

Sure! Why he couldn’t think about that before! Even if he cannot remeber anything, he had the pencil and the sheet in from of him. His soul draw that moment, that’s for sure. The doctor and the other man, they have to be somewhere, the last draw of his helpless soul is the most important.

The stolen soul

This is the case of the stolen soul, it must be. And the guy doesn’t know yet that the person he wants to search has his name craved in his left foot, right now.

— Read the next one, The pyramid–

Read the first chapter!

This story will be published once per week only, with all rights reserved for the story and its translations by Flyingstories.org and in the person of Daniele Frau.

All the graphics are handmade and designed with different techniques by Gabriele Manca, DMQ productions, who reserves all rights. 

All English articles published in Souls (alive) proofread by Elisabeth Corcoran

Capitolo I il mondo delle anime

Capitolo I

Il Mondo delle Anime

Read in English

Un intero capitolo è finito. Se poteste vedere le vostre facce mentre sfrecciate dentro e fuori da porte  portiere, sapreste perché ho iniziato a scrivere questa storia. Non c’è altro che noi, umanità ammassata in ogni angolo del cerchio. Ho posato i miei occhi su madri e padri, bambini insonnoliti e piccole nuvole a forma di orsetto. Eppure ho dovuto scrivere una storia perché tutte queste idee, queste visioni, si legassero insieme.

I ristoranti

I ristoranti ad esempio, in cui passo più tempo di quanto vorrei, sono stati una parte importante di questo primo capitolo. Persone appena incontrate si sforzano di rimanere concentrate mentre sperano che dall’altra parte del mondo un impulso elettrico porti loro un sorriso. Come chi, uscendo dal deserto, aspetti la pioggia mentre si siede paziente e un po’ annoiato alla base di una fonte fresca.

Le strade

In questo capitolo si sono introdotte le strade. Brulicanti di fango, sabbia e macchine. Mancano solo i personaggi, gli umani. Quelli sono belli nascosti dentro i loro abitacoli a bere caffè in tazza grande. Fuori, un suono irreale cerca di risvegliare la passione sopita per ciò che ancora si suole chiamare Natura.

Le anime

Le anime tengono questo mondo collegato. In questo capitolo le anime hanno tenuto silenziosamente tutti uniti, mentre in quello seguente inizieranno a urlare. Un tamburo che passa delle informazioni di villaggio in villaggio, una trama che si infittisce senza addensarsi. Strati di nuvole.

Anticipazioni

Nel prossimo capitolo vedrete qualche faccia nuova. Saprete già tante cose, dagli oggetti in grado di raccontare ai sogni di gloria di S. Ciò renderà la storia più viva e forse più attraente. Ci saranno nuovi punti di vista, orologi perfino, che con le loro lancette terranno il tempo del racconto. Che dire? Come sempre, alla settimana prossima!

Oh, ps,

Qui di seguito ci sono tutte e 12 le parti della storia. Si, proprio 12 come i numeri sul quadrante di un orologio che non vede l’ora di entrare in scena.

-1– Sono un umile paio di scarpe –1–

–2– Il discorso dell’anima –2–

–3– Il valore dell’anima –3–

-4– Il venditore di anime –4–

–5– Il negozio di anime–5–

–6–Lezioni di vendita –6–

–7–La scatola delle anime –7–

–8–Il cinema, la pubblicità –8–

–9– Il cinema, il bacio –9–

–10– Il ristorante –10-

-11- Il Capo -11-

-12- Il muro -12-

La storia avrà pubblicazione a cadenza settimanale. Tutti i diritti sulla storia sono riservati da Flyingstories.org e nella persona di Daniele Frau.

Tutte le grafiche sono eseguite a mano e in stili misti dall’artista Gabriele Manca, DMQ productions, che detiene i diritti sulle opere.

The wall

The wall

Great expectations

— Read the previous paragraph–

— Read in Italian–

Tik, tok, tik, tok

Two pair of shoes follow the same pace, right at the foot of the wall. This pair of high- heeled shoes keeps walking on the white waxed floor at the HQ, leaving behind a trace of perfume and a blue shadow.

Puck, Pack, Pick, Puck

The boss is here

The Boss

—Read the previous paragraph—

— Read in Italian—

An (un) expected news

A simple potato makes a different sound if you drop it down in the dark, as in the dark the potato itself was different

The ghost

Now finally we can meet the Boss. We’ll be there soon, following one of our ghosts. Odontologists and dentists usually get mad about one thing, people sucking candies. Another reason that makes them angry is

The cinema

The cinema, the advertisement

–Read the previous article–

–Read in Italian–

All movie theatres are the same, having the same dimensions and with the same screen with the same size. In the cinema the movies change, but