Tag Archive stories

Finale_The end

The end

Election time

Beautiful girls in underwear walk covered with billboards. On the pictures hung under their necks, the round faces of aspiring statesmen.

In the end

In fact, everything continues as always. The Independence day gives all the time the families need for chatting in front of their rectangles full of lights. These rectangles, knowing how important they are in forming a public opinion without any opinion, decide to send news like these:

The Alien Rain continues. The Government decided new special laws in order to prevent the situation to escalate.

Husband kills his wife in the suburbs, then cuts her in pieces and throws them around the city.”I thought she was an alien”, he stated.

 The Member of the Parliament, Svanzoni,  forced to resign after his minority motion has been rejected.

<<I just asked them to let this people fall down without dying. I thought it was right to give them one chance to save themselves.>>, these the first statement of the new enemy of the Nation.

The Champion of the People decided to answer back, immediately:

<<I can understand how frustrated the Member and ex Minister of Infrastructures and Quiet Living could feel right now. We have to remember that we had to take into account the fun aspect. The people of this Country is suffering enough for the curfew, it’s a right thing they can have some fun. Following the rules, as always. We’re always on the Law’s side. This is one of the reason why I asked the full power, because me and only me know what people really wants.>>

Starting from today, thanks to the new Babu’s law, it will be legal to kill aliens around the streets during holidays. For whom would kill out of the time and days recommended, it would be charged with fines, accordingly. Later, a short guide on how to recognise an alien.

The people

Before having fun outside, shooting aliens, people are happy discussing the new laws in the pubs and at home. As in the old fashioned game of the telephone, the news bounce from one to the other, changing slightly.

The People’s Champ

The Champion of the People, sure about winning in the next elections, seats relaxed on his black armchair. In front of him, on top of his desk, the half length statue of a tyrant, died decades ago.

There’s a reason why he let his own cat take a decision about the aliens. Interestingly, it’s the same reason why he’s not outside having fun shooting aliens as all the others. On his lap lays everything he ever cared about, the meaning of his life. A small music note, the beginning of a life which is able only to scream, sleep and eat.

The small V

She’s the only creature he knows he can speak to, the only one able to truly understand who he really is. Mainly just making happy bubbles with her tiny mouth. Sometimes she snores, but in that funny cute way that only babies seem to have. And she smiles. A toothless smile, able to move smiles as it was a happy wind. For sure a positive, natural wind.

Not evil

How could ever explain all this good feelings to the stupid voters and the Parliament members? If it was up to him, he would help elderly women crossing the street, this is the kind of person he is. An idiot, but deeply inside not an evil idiot. Simply, he has found in his hands too much power and too fast.

Obviously, when you have such a great power, you have to decide. You need to give answers and that answers have to be clear and certain. He doesn’t mind, he knows the rules and he plays well. Where are his friends, right now? They’re probably too busy laughing under few meters of soil and concrete, that’s what they’re doing!

<<Pling, plong?>>

Suddenly, the door calls for attention. Today is the Independence day, what they want? Anyways, he has servants for that, they will go and see who’s at the door.

<<Pling- plong!>>

This time the doorbell seems to be in a hurry, demanding to be answered. Oh, how silly! Today he conceded the servants three hours of free time, so they could celebrate with their families. On the streets there’s the aliens hunt.

He keeps forgetting how generous he is.

<<Pling- Plong?! Pling- Plong!?>>

<<Who dares!>>

The People’s Champion snaps. If they keep ring the bell like this they’ll wake up the small Victoria. How uncivilized! He stands up from the black armchair and lays the sleeping baby down in the cradle. The cradle, rose and white, start its swinging movement. The “V” drawn on top seems to be the legs of a broken watch.

<<Pling- plong!>>

All of a sudden the Champ forgets his romantic side.

<<Pling- Plong!>>

“My word, I will kill them!”

He thinks while descending the stairs.

<<Pling- Plong!>>

“Oh, I will dismember them!”

Think again, while finally reach with a foaming mouth the door. Here, he turns the handle with fury.

<<For Adolf’s sake, who’s there?>>

And in fron of him:

<<Who… who are you?>>

The figure of an old woman, dirty and dressed in rags stays speechless in front of him. She seems to be a hundred years old, covered with dirt and clotted blood. She doesn’t seem to be hurt, not physically anyways. She’s got big eyes, which seem even bigger because of the skinny appearance. She’s looking at him as he was a vision, a dream.

<<You…You are an alien!>>

Such a big boy scared by this terrified human skeleton.

The skeleton

The old woman wants to speak, but all the words she prepared before seem to be stuck, blocked as her breath due to a broken rib. They’ve chosen her to be there in that moment, to be in front of that man, the so- called People’s Champ. She passed any kind of pain to be there, right in front of this man. To tell him that…

<<Blam!>>

One shot and the Champ closes the eyes, the ears ringing. A single shot and the woman’s head has become a cloud of red corianders. The eyes full of fear disappear, along with the whole face covered in dirt. Abruptly, she’s transformed in a lifeless skeleton, with a spot of blood where before there was a head. A stain, a spot as any other, that the servants will clean in few hours.

<<Champ, are you all right?>>

A girl

A sixteen years old girl stands in front of him, her smoking gun still in her hands. She looks at him with a curious face.

<<Y-yes, thank you. I don’t know what she wanted from me.>>

<<Can I have an autograph, please?>>

<<S-sure, young lady. How did you recognise she was an alien?>>

<<I watched the program “how recognise an alien” on You Tumble. I’m sort of an expert.>>

<<Oh, wow. Really good shot. What’s your name?>>

<<Ananke.>>

<<Ananke, what an anusual name. You want an authograph?>>

<<Yes! Could I please have it on top of the corpse? I will load it on my wheelbarrow, my friends will die of envy.>>

<<Sure, sure, here we are. You’ve earned it. Enjoy the Independence day!>>

Just a flabby man

The girl watches the Champ, it’s the first time she can stay so close to him. She watched at him only from distance, looking out some balconies or on the coloured rectangles. For the first time, too she realised how flabby and sweaty he is. He’s still trembling, while wiping the blood out of his face. She wouldn’t say it loud, but she feels pity for him. All that power and he’s afraid of a small old woman.

<<Wait a minute. She was trying to take something from the pocket. What was it? A weapon?>>

The girl searches through the skeletal corpse, with a disgusted face. The rectangles said aliens bring mortal illnesses.

It’s a letter.

<<It’s a letter, Mr. Champ.>>

<<Well, well. A letter. Hand it to me and go play with your corpse. Again, have a good Independence day!>>

The door remains open on a grotesque scene: a tiny girl is trying to load an headless corpse on the wheelbarrow.

The Champ starts closing the door, his facial expression changing into horror as he keeps reading, the hands shaking. Which kind of joke is that?

Then, he realised something.

There’s nothing else but terror.

He leaves the door open and run.

Run!

He runs as he’ve never run before.

Run fast, with his belly up and down.

He bumps into the half length statue of the tyrant which crashes on the floor. In the room the window is open and there are few muddy footsteps on the white pavement.

In front of him stands the cradle. Empty.

And then the world is a nightmare.

And the world is distant.

And the world is the future.

And the world doesn’t smell good.

He thought he was master of time. But the time makes whatever it pleases.

While he falls on his knee he starts shouting and crying. Despair, rage, confusion. As he was falling from the clouds. As he was one alien.

Falling over a mountain of pain and mud.

“Too late”, he thinks while his thoughts seem to dissolve.

<<Ci avete rubato il futuro!>>

A voice, a shout behind him, full of rage.

He turns and sees an alien, a man covered in blood and mud. The Champ instinctively takes his favourite gun, Valkyrie, from the closet. He has never had a chance to use it before, he doesn’t even know how to shoot. Victoria is on the hands of that alien, mute.

Finale_The end
Finale_The end

Why she doesn’t cry?

The alien must die.

The alien must suffer.

The alien will be torn apart.

Instead, the alien speaks.

<<You stole our future, now I’m stealing yours.>>

The alien must die.

The alien must suffer.

<<Shoot me, shoot me as many times as you want, but you won’t change what happened. We gave you a chance, and you missed it.>>

The alien must die.

The alien must suffer.

And suddenly the Champ feels like he is the alien. Point the trembling gun to his head.

<<Blam!>>

In a second and in a single bullet, a fountain of red paint. The room starts being brighter, with this spray gun effect. On the floor, the corpse of what remains of the People’s Champ, his brain and blood mixed with the pieces of the statue. The alien didn’t expect that.

<<Click.>>

Behind him the sound of a gun loaded.

He turns and sees a small twelve years old girl, with a shotgun bigger than her.

<<Quella vecchia è sparita, nessuno mi crederà. Tu sei un alieno, vero?>>

She doesn’t have to wait for an answer, she knows how to recognise an alien.

<<Blam.>>

On the floor now lay two corpses, while a small one lays inside the cradle. It’s impossible to recognise Victoria, her smile now is just a red spot. Future and past linked by the same destiny.

On the Champ’s left hand there’s a letter:

“Don’t kill me, please.

Save me.

I’m your V.”

And the letter vanishes as the old woman did before. The twelve years old grabs her alien trophy and starts dragging him through the stairs.

<<Go back to the future.>>

She keeps mumbling to herself.

The End

You didn’t read the first three parts and now you’re watching at it thoughtful?  Click here.

You want to read just the last part? Click here.

The story is written by Daniele Frau and he has all the rights over its reproductions. The illustrations are original and made by Gabriele Manca (DMQ productions) which keeps all the rights over them.

Vuoi leggerla in italiano? Clicca qui.

La caduta_gli alieni

Ritorna al futuro!

Alieni

Solo ora che cado dalle nuvole capisco il profondo significato dell’aria. Non solo è una forma, ma è una forma di vita, in vita. Quando vuole sa essere vento, che sfugge tenace alle mani aperte dai finestrini delle macchine in corsa, oppure si rifugia sotto le porte e si trasforma in corrente, nelle tane dove vivono i treni.

Fredda

Fredda, è in grado di stringere due corpi in un abbraccio e perfino farli innamorare, mentre si fa calda e li rende umidi, lontani, ma ormai innamorati. L’aria sa essere gentile, quando vuole. Accade poi talvolta che inciampi, distratta, in qualche montagna e rotolI così su qualche nuvola, mischiandosi al vento nel vento fino a diventare un cono di distruzione.

Caduta libera

La sento proprio ora, gelata, che mi taglia il viso e mi muove le orecchie. Sotto di me, terra chiara e sangue, tanto sangue. Corpi su corpi, una catasta di occhi-mani-capelli-gambe. Sopra di me, altre mosche- uomo pronte a farmi compagnia, a sparire in un abbraccio di morte.

Le loro ombre sono puntini che si confondono uno nell’altro nella radura, proiettate da un sole ignaro. Sento l’aria riscaldarsi, la terra avvicinarsi.

L’avrei fatto comunque, se l’avessi saputo?

Si, credo proprio di si.

Sono vicino, ora vedo una scritta, tracciata in lettere maiuscole nella terra.

Ritorna al futuro

Troppo tardi, penso io, mentre mi dissolvo.

La caduta_gli alieni
La caduta, gli alieni.

—————————————————————-

Villa Clichy

<<Ben arrivati a Villa Clichy,  mi chiamo Vanessa e mi trovo qui oggi in veste di guida. Sarò il vostro punto di riferimento durante l’intera permanenza della vostra meravigliosa famiglia qui alla Villa. Qualche cenno storico. Prego, seguitemi. L’ala dell’edificio in cui ci troviamo ora è piuttosto antica. Recentemente un familiare del nostro Capo Popolo è stato nostro ospite, ma in passato queste stanze hanno dato dimora ad un Re francese famoso per i suoi mobili. Probabilmente ha anche giocato con questo prezioso tavolo da biliardo e avrà riposato su una di queste sedie in plastica.>>

<<Signora?>>

<<Si, piccolo?>>

<<È vero che da qui si vedono gli alieni di cui tutti parlano?>>

<<Arturo!>>

<<Ma no, signora, lo lasci fare. I bambini fanno bene ad essere curiosi e sa, ne parlano tutti ormai. Va bene, basta così con i cenni storici, restiamo nell’attualità. Si, Arturino bello, se guardi fuori dalla tua finestra li puoi vedere. Se devo essere sincera, sono diventati una vera e propria attrazione, siamo prenotati tutto l’anno. Dicevano di esprimere un desiderio quando ne cadeva uno, ma ormai sono tanti che i desideri non basterebbero.>>

<<Ah, ah, bella questa. Grazie, Vanessa. Arturo, come si dice?>>

<<Grazie, signora.>>

<<Ma come sei ben educato! Grazie a te, Arturino.>>

<<Mi scusi, Vanessa. Approfitto della sua pazienza, ma giacché abbiamo toccato l’argomento…>>

<<Mi dica, signor Capra.>>

<<Nella brochure dell’agenzia diceva di una postazione per la caccia.>>

<<Assolutamente signor Capra. Troverà una stazione per cacciatori ad appena due chilometri dalla Villa. Là le daranno tutte le istruzioni e le metteranno a disposizione un kit. Se non ha mai sparato agli alieni, le do un consiglio. Miri prima a quelli più grossi, così da fare pratica. Poi pian piano sarà in grado di colpire alieni di medie e piccole dimensioni.>>

<<Mi perdoni, Vanessa, magari la domanda le suonerà stupida, ma… non soffriranno?>>

<<Ma no, suo marito e gli altri staranno a debita distanza, è completamente sicuro.>>

<<Si, certo, ma vede… io parlavo degli alieni. Lei crede che soffrano?>>

<<Ah, ah! Questa domanda le fa onore, signora Capra. Guardi, per quanto io non abbia studiato medicina, ho letto che ci sono prove scientifiche che provano che gli alieni sono completamente privi di sentimenti umani.>>

<<Ah, la ringrazio. Non sa quanto questo mi faccia sentire più sollevata. Sa, sono una fedele.>>

<<Anche io, si figuri. Sono una grande devota, come il Capo.>>

<<E la catasta? Crede che l’odore possa arrivare anche qui?>>

<<Ottima domanda, signora Capra. Si, non le posso nascondere che se la casa dovesse trovarsi controvento, si potrebbe avvertire un po’ di cattivo odore. Non si preoccupi, però. Il Governo ha già istituito tre volte alla settimana una raccolta differenziata per la raccolta degli alieni. E la casa ha un sistema di profumazione automatico. Non si accorgerà di nulla. Ora scusatemi, ma devo scappare. Ho i miei bambini che escono da scuola.>>

<<Certo, certo, comunque per qualsiasi cosa possiamo contattarla?>>

<<Esattamente. Non mettetevi problemi. E… buona caccia!>>

<<Ah, ah! Buona giornata, Vanessa!>>

<<A voi!>>

… continua…

Questa storia è un racconto originale scritto da Daniele Frau, cui sono riservati i diritti di riproduzione. I disegni sono ad opera di Gabriele Manca (DMQ productions) e tutti i diritti correlati sono di sua proprietà.

You can read the story in English as well, here.

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

storie dal Giappone

Japan! Stories

Tokyo

3,2,1 go!

We start our journey in Dubai, but we can easily skip this detail to arrive directly here in Terminal 2, Narita Airport. It’s summer and I can feel it in the air. However, here I can breathe, not as in other Asian destinations. Look mom, I’m in Japan! I landed in between an alien movie and the tidy drawer of my friend Sabrina. After repeating as many time as I can ‘arigato’ (thanks) I finally try to find a logic in all this order. The navigator keep telling me I have to find an underpass called B2F. I’m lucky enough to find it and even blessed, ‘cause two person address me in English!

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

Le anime (vive) 800x800 DMQ Productions

Souls (alive)

–read in Italian–

–lee en Español–

 Souls (alive)

Synopsis

Where?

We are in a world not so different from the one you are accustomed to. One where you watch a sunny day (or a grey one) from your window, in a big city (or countryside). A reality in which you dunk cookies in milk and you drink rivers …streams of hot coffee. Nothing would probably catch your attention in this tale, not even the main difference. The main distinction between our world and the one described in this story is that here people don’t want to die. They prefer to send their own unique soul to an administrator, to someone whom easily is going to admire its purity, strength, even post mortem (after death, for not Latinists).

What?

Souls

Dakar, Senegal

Senegal

–read in Italian–

Senegal

First stop: Dakar

Three million inhabitants, Senegal’s Capital city, Dakar is a city full of traits that make it a destination alluring for tourists. One of those traits is the famous Paris- Dakar. Even though if you want to attend it, nowadays you need to take into account to go halfway across the world. Football is another big star here, and in the street you’re going to see loads of people with the famous Lion’s t-shirt. And the food, and the people. But let’s go step by step. Dakar is similar to other African cities I visited, but more clean and tourist- friendly. So the first night I felt myself safe enough and brave to take a taxi and go a bit out of the city, close to the sea, in a restaurant managed (I discovered later) by a nice woman from Liguria, Italy.

But what exactly is Dakar?