Tag Archive story

La carta del gatto

The Parliament

One cat

Two votes

The 30 Members of the Parliament of the People create a buzzing sound in the small hall. It seems a bunch of bees working on building a wall of honey. No more honey, though, but only a huge wall, a solid wall built long ago all around the small nation. As a new trend, all nations started getting smaller and smaller, before realising that the problem it would be one day or another the “vital space”. They are like a crazy cat which jumped inside a small box and now doesn’t know how to get out.

<<Dling-dling-dling!>>

A small silver bell call to order everyone.

<<Ladies and Gentlemen, members of the Parlament, colleagues women and men, please silence. I will give the floor to the Minister of Infrastructures and Quiet Living, Mr. Arnoldo Svanzoni. Please.>>

Arnoldo Svanzoni

The imposing figure of the ex boxer Arnoldo Svanzoni stands in the centre of the room. All newspapers places their microphones, it’s all live. It’s an important moment, the first time after the Champion got “Full Authority” over the Parliament that someone dare to speak. As a result, the Parliament is getting less and less useful, as it was a public library for teenagers only.

<<Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m here standing in front of you today to solve a problem. We already have to fight against terroristic attacks and a poor state of the world economy. As I said, I’m here with a solution. I was one of the first advocating the construction of the Mighty Walls raised around our beloved Motherland. The same walls we celebrate today, with the Day of Independency. Again, I was the first promoter of racial laws and new regulations against refugees and terrorists. I did what I did with sole purpose of serving our beloved Motherland. That said, today in front of you is not a member of the Parliament, but a simple family man. We have to take into consideration the possibility that, as People’s Police attested, these aliens are coming from the future. A future attested around 100 years from now at the most. We must reconsider our position, because statistically there is a high possibility that the so- called aliens would be nothing less than our sons, daughters, nephews and nieces.>>

<<Dling-dling-dling!>>

The bell rings trying to calm down the drooling members of the Parliament and the press. How dare you! All these months of propaganda speaking about aliens and this guy comes with this idea. Unconceivable!

<<Dling- dling -dliiiiiiiing!>>

<<Ladies and gentlemen, please try to calm down. We’re in a Parliament’s room, for Champ’s sake!>>

The Cat

La carta del gatto
Go back to the future_The Parliament_The cat

On the empty chair of the Champ seats a fatty cat. When the Champ is occupied, being photographed as a puppet or out for personal reasons like today, the only allowed to seat there is his cat.

<<The solution, and here comes the end of my speech ladies and gentlemen, would be easy. We should put a net under the aliens landing points, in order to save up to 90% of them. Thank you for your attention.>>

<<Dling- dling- dliiiiiiiiing!>>

<<Ladies, gentlemen! You will scare the cat!>>

Hearing this, the whole room turned to the Champ’s chair, terrorised. If the cat would leave the chair, scared by them, something terrible would happen. The cat moves his eyes from one to another, like he knows exactly what kind of power he holds.

Princess Babu

<<Mrs. Babu, it’s your turn to speak.>>

<<Thank you Woman- Chief of the Parliament of the People. I have few questions for Mr. Svanzoni, and whole rhetorical. Why we should help those people? We have to do it because they’re human being? But they’re not, they’re aliens. We should probably help them ’cause they’re escaping from hunger? Sure, my family escaped from hunger long time ago, and they came to this beautiful Country. However, those were different times.>>

The dark figure of Princess Babu seems to be a whole with the mahogany wood used to cover the Parliament of the People.

<<There were times in which it wasn’t necessary to build a wall in the sea and we could speak about human beings and not alien scum falling from the sky. I heard some of you saying they are like us, they share our DNA, so I will ask you another rhetorical question: whom amongst you did fall in this beautiful country from the sky?>>

<<Driiiiin- driiiiin-driiiinnn!>>

<<Please, please silence! Let Mrs. Babu end her speech.>>

<<Thanks, Mrs. Chief of the Parliament. I have something to say to whoever thinks on treating them as sisters or brothers: go back to your country! Some people escape from hunger, from poverty or even from the heat. And we have to give something tolet those beasts eat and drink? No, let’s just shoot them! Thank you, I’m done.>>

The cat licks a paw, while the Master of Ceremonies of the Parliament pets him with a velvet glove.

First vote

<<Well, thanks Mrs. Babu. Let’s vote. We have the first motion to be voted, tabled by Mr. Svanzoni, about the construction of a safe net under the landing point. The second motion to be voted, tabled by Mrs. Babu, is about the shooting of survived aliens in the streets, starting today.>>

<<Driiiiin- driiiiiin- driiiinnn.>>

<<Please, start voting for motion number one.>>

On the black display on the back of the room appears a number of lights, almost all with the same colour.

<<Well, the results for Mr. Svanzoni is 30 votes against 1. Motion rejected. Mr. Svanzoni, I kindly ask you to pledge for forgiveness to the room and then leave the Parliament accordingly.>>

Arnold Svanzoni, the ex boxer, keeps his eyes down, while asking for forgiveness to the Parliament.

<<Dear members of the Parliament, I ask for your forgiveness. I ask you to forgive me for my irreverence and I hope you’ll let me come back here in this holy place. Goodbye.>>

<<Driiiiin- driiiiiiin- driiiiinnnn.>>

<<All right, then. Now please let’s vote the second motion.>>

The second vote

The black display this time doesn’t look like it did before. There are lights of two different colours.

<<The vote shows a draw, 15 against 15. Let’s proceed with a second vote.>>

<<Driiiiin- driiiiin- driiiiin.>>

And this time again it seems a draw. Probably the fact that the Champ isn’t here today gave them some courage.

<<Ladies and gentlemen, deputy of the People, the vote seems to be in a deadlock, with a second draw. Following the New Regulation, the final decision is up to the People’s Champion or his substitute. Mr. Master of the Ceremonies, please bring the cat on stage for the vote.>>

The Master of Ceremonies takes the cat in his velvet gloves, descends the stairs and place the black feline in the centre of the room.

<<Well, Master. Proceed now blindfolding the cat.>>

The cat, chosen for his absolute docility, seems even liking the red hook the Master places over the ears and face. Then, the Master takes two small bells from the pocket, a red and a green one. He seats few meters from the cat, knees down and…

<<Driiiiinnn—Driiinnn.>>

Tries the first bell.

<<Driiiiiinnn—Driiinnn.>>

Tries the second bell.

To be fair, the sounds have to be exactly the same. So to avoid an impartial decision from the cat.

The cat is seated, blindfolded, and it seems ignoring the two bells. Nothing is written about the possibility that the cat would choose to ignore the bells.

<<Driiiiinnn—Driiinnn.>>

<<Driiiiinnn—Driiinnn.>>

Finally, the cat raises the small blindfolded head and starts walking towards the bells.

A step, then two

<<Driiiiinnn—Driiinnn.>>

<<Driiiiinnn—Driiinnn.>>

Then three, then four

The destiny of men and women is all in this bored cat walking. This feline will decide if it will be legal to shoot to the surviving aliens in the streets. Therefore, this cat- choice will give a chance to other men and women to practice the use of their guns, slaughtering aliens in the streets.

Then five, six. He’s almost there.

<<Driiiiinnn—Driiinnn.>>

<<Driiiiinnn—Driiinnn.>>

There is still hope?

Then seven, eight

And the dance is over.

<<Driiiiinnn—Driiinnn.>>

<<Driiiiinnn—Driiinnn.>>

… It continues…

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 has all the rights over them.

Vuoi leggerla in italiano? Clicca qui.

Il Capo_The Champ

The Champ

An enemy

We shouldn’t at least… check before?

To check… check what?

I mean… to be sure that behind the explosions…

Shush!

But…

I said shush and I meant it. They can hear you, you know? They must be them behind the attacks. What do you want to check?

Sure, sure, you’re right. I was just saying because I wasn’t… anyways, here he comes the Champ. Hopefully he will carry some news.

The People’s Champ, with his fatty figure enters in the room as he was simply a shadow. A shadow with the unmistakable smell of roast beef and the usual, ever present, smile tattooed under his nose.

Good morning, everyone!

He starts his scene, shaking hands, say hi to everyone. Trying to ignore the tension inside the room. A concern, a fear that sneaks, until it’s too big and fill the whole room as it was a kind of gel or putrefying liquid.

The Champ, a nice person

No, don’t judge him too early. The cheery behaviour, the capacity of never forgetting a name, it’s all a marketing strategy. That smile could be the last one you can see before drawing inside a tank full of liquid concrete. No, he hasn’t been always bad. Before, he was just a fatty guy with a kind face. Shaking hands, though, he learned how to survive, how to lead, and then he always increased his power.

Power, power

At first, he could’t bear the punishments against the adversaries. But then, he started enjoying it. Now he clap his hand happily, almost hysterical, watching the eyes red for fear of his enemies tortured. Innocent rabbits, they watched that hysterical smile right before dying in agony.

Oh, to be honest he never personally killed or tortured anyone. His hands are smooth and clean, the hands of whom never has to work his entire life. Even though his motto is:

Always on the side of workers, always on the side of Justice

Cannibal justice


Besides that, those same squishy hands changed the system once and for all. Torture, then death penalty came back in the everyday vocabulary. Then, the coup de teatre. The prisoners, a huge cost for the collectivity, became the main source of proteins for the other inmates after they die. A whole new way of administer justice: cannibalism. Why throw away such a tender meat?

No, the prisoners didn’t deserve much more than be served as a meal to the other inmates.

And still the number of crimes rises, and no one could see any reasonable solution ahead. So they took the extreme decision: they put the whole community under the umbrella of fear.

We make our own luck

The first one arrived as a matter of luck, but then seen how the population got scared, they replicated it. A small explosion on open air in the countryside as a starter, good to scare only few solitary cows. But it was enough for the newspapers:

And if instead the cows there were people?

And if there were women and children?

On page 23 the 3d graphic of the explosion, if it happened in the city and killed a hundred of people.


The fear started to be as real as the new 3D graphics imagined by disturbed illustrators.

My dear friends

The Head continued now, showing happily his grin.

Il Capo_The Champ
Il Capo_The Champ

We are dealing with one of the worst crisis scenario our amazing nation ever had in his history. One of the most difficult situation our Action Government had ever dealt with. But we’ve found the landing point. All of them.

Landing point! You’d really considered falling for 30 meters to the ground a landing? A fall, a deadly fall, that is the reality. The Head continues:

We put in jail the people that was helping them survive the impact. They will finish their days in jail, eating one each other. This is what the enemies of the nation deserve!

His hollow eyes, inside the fluffy cheeks, started moving from one person to the other in the room. Happy, cheered, as this for him was just a part of a game. A game he wrote, personally.

And what about the explosions?

A shy voice, one of the secretaries speaks.

The explosions? We will stop them, sure!

The voice took courage and asks one more question.

And how your Majesty think is going to happen?

As we always did. We will find the responsible of this abominable acts and we will rip them, and then they will eat them alive. I think it should be enough to discourage other attempts.

Oh, Champ! Your ideas are alway so… original!

Well, thanks. Gentlemen, for today is enough. Tomorrow you will vote for the new regulations. One will come from majority and one from opposition, vote accordingly. I won’t be present at the vote. As you know, tomorrow is the day of Independence and I will be with my family.

Independence day!

If the came up with the name Isolation Day instead, it would have made much more sense. The holiday was there to remind everyone about the day, few years before, when the last wall was completed. Before they started with a wall in the South, against the invasion of poor and terrorists, but wasn’t enough.

They continued with the East wall, against the invasion of communists and pedophiles. After few years, they completed the one on the West, with no reason at all. Last but not least, they built the North wall, the last one, against “Super Powers that invade us and control us”.

The Head-of-the-State leaves now the room, carrying his smile and thinking about the reason of his life, his small nephew Victoria.

… It continues…

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

Do you want to read just the previous one? 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 has all the rights over them.

Vuoi leggerla in italiano? Clicca qui.

La caduta_gli alieni

Go back to the future

Aliens

Now, that I’m falling down from the clouds, only now I understand the meaning of the air. It’s not just a shape, is a shape of life, alive. When it wants to, it can be the wind that flows and escape from your open hands outside a car window.

Cold

It finds its space under the door, in the houses or it can be a current of wind in the den when the trains live. When it’s cold let people get closer and closer, in love hugs, while when it’s hot make the humans wet and distant, but already in love.

Gentle

The air can be gentle, but only if it decides to be gentle. Otherwise, sometimes it stumbles, distracted on some mountain and then down rumbles and rumbles, mixing up since it becomes a cone of destruction.

I can feel it, right now, freezing cold, cutting my face, moving my ears. Under me I can see a land, light in colour inked with blood. A lot of blood. Bodies over bodies, a stack of eyes- hands- hairs- legs. Over me, I know there are other flies- man ready to follow me in this deadly hug.

Flies

Their shadows are small points that mix one into the other down on the cleaning, projected by the light of an unaware sun. I feel now the air getting warmer, the earth closer.

La caduta_gli alieni
La caduta, gli alieni.

I would do it the same, if I’d know is a trap?

Yes,I think so.

I’m closer, now, I can see a writing:

Go Back to the future.

Too late, I think while I’m dissolving.

——————————————————————————————————————–

Villa Clichy

<<Welcome to Villa Clichy, I’m Vanessa and I’m here today as your personal guide. I will be your reference point during your stay here in this amazing Villa. Let’s start with a brief historical overview. Please, follow me. The wing of the house in which we’re walking right now is quite old. Recently a family member of the People’s Champ resided here, and even in the past a French King famous for his furniture decided to spend some time here. Probably he even played on this amazing pool table and had some rest in these comfortable plastic seats.>>

<<Madame?>>

<<Yes, dear?>>

<<It’s true that you can see the aliens everyone is speaking about, from here?>>

<<Arthur!>>

<<No, madame, let him speak, please. Children are curious and everybody is speaking about this every single day. Right, let’s move forward, let’s stay on the current events. Yes, dear Arthur, if you look right now from the windows you can see them falling. If I have to be complete sincere with you, they’re a genuine attraction right now. We’re fully booked the whole year. At the beginning they were saying to have a wish when you see an alien dropping, but now I don’t have enough wishes.>>

<<Ah, Ah, that’s a good one. Thanks Vanessa. Arthur, what do you say?>>

<<Than you, miss.>>

<<Oh, you’re such an educated angel. Thank you for your question, dear Arthur.>>

<<Sorry, Vanessa. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness, but since we’ve touched the topic…>>

<<Tell me, Mr. Capra.>>

<<On the agency flyer we read about an hunting post.>>

<<Yes, that’s true Mr. Capra. You will find a station for hunters just two km away from the Villa. There you’ll find a colleague ready to give you all the instructions and an alien- hunting kit. If you’ve never shot any aliens before, let me give you an advice. Start shooting the big ones, so you will practice a bit. Later on you’ll be able to shoot smaller aliens.>>

<<I’m so sorry, Vanessa, but I have to ask. Even though it will sound stupid, but… they will suffer?>>

<<Well, no Mrs. Capra. Your husband and the others will be placed far away from the fall, there’s no danger.>>

<<Oh, sure it will be. My question was about the aliens. Do you think they will suffer, Vanessa?>>

<<Ah, ah! This question does only give you credit, madam. Look, I’m not a doctor and I never studied medicine, but I read that there are scientific proof attesting the complete lack of human feelings on the alien.>>

<<Oh, thanks. You have no idea how this makes me feel more relieved. You know, I’m a believer.>>

<<Me too, madam, me too. I’m a huge devout, as our People’s Champ>>

<<And what about the stack? Do you think the smell will reach the Villa?>>

<<Oh, that’s another good question, Mrs. Capra. I cannot hide from you the fact that, when the Villa is upwind, you probably would feel a bit of the smell. Don’t worry, though. The Government started with a separate collection for the aliens, and the house have an automatic deodorant system. You won’t feel anything. Now you must excuse me, but I really have to go, my children come out of the school soon.>>

<<Yes, of course, Vanessa. We can contact you any time?>>

<<Any time, there’s no small problem for me. Oh, and… good hunting!>>

<<Ah, ah! Have a good day, Vanessa!>>

<<Bye!>>

Continue reading 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 has all the rights over them.

You can read the story in Italian as well, have a look!

Il treno_the train

The train



— Read the First Chapter —

— Read the Second Chapter —

— Read the previous part —

— Read in Italian —



I’m a train

I’m a train. An iron belly running fast over immense skates. Once being the soul of a train wasn’t as easy as right now. All those puffs of smoke, that black nauseating smoke and the jolts. Oh, the jolts! Now, I’m almost sound proofed. Sometimes some sound reminds me of my previous metal life.

A typewriter

I was a typewriter, with all my keys so shiny and clean stared by moustaches- men. I saw important letters and books written by obscure people. I remember one book in particular, it started like that:

It was in a clearing, right behind the forest known nowadays as the Reverse Forest. There was established a sad record.  A death record. If you were so audacious to search for this book and so careless to open it, you’d be repaid by knowledge, at least. You’ll know what happened the 23rd of July.

A book

Yes, I remember that date quite well. That 23rd of July. Not that I’ve ever opened that book, though. I was simply the first ink making spoken words something physical, printed.

The Governor

The Governor, searching for new resources for the army, decided to find some alternative, new method. As you can imagine, war always helped the human beings in finding some smart solutions. Countries without water discovered how to find some spreading rivers of blood.

Others, full of water that they could sell it, reduced the country they conquered in deserts. This is history and no one would tell you better than a mass of human skeletons and horses. A collective hug that only death is able to make.

Prisoners

The Governor H. thought which resources he had in abundance. The answer was easy to find: prisoners. During war, they call war prisoners, during peace they just drop the “war” excuse. In both cases we’re speaking about the same human beings, most of the time committing small crimes, sometimes homicides or even worst, they tried to suicide without licence.

Mushrooms forest

The forest was called at the time simply “Mushrooms Forest”, mostly for the peculiar way the trees were growing. With big, bulky tops they were similar to mushrooms.

The lake

Over the Forest, a small lake was the secret of those trees growing so big and high. They grew and grew, projecting their shadows to all the animals that don’t like walk with a leash. That small lake was immediately spotted by the Governor, which it seems he had exclaimed:

Oh, if there’s water, I will find a spring not distant!

He commanded ten prisoners to dig and make a well. The first thought was to make enough water for the regiment camped not fare from there. As we said before, during war time you have a lot of prisoners, but the problem is to feed an entire army. After three hard working days, the well was ready. It was a record, but it wasn’t the topic of the book. And the well itself wasn’t what the whole thing was about, anyways.

Wells

If it was a book about records in building wells, probably it would be a geophysics manual, but that was mostly animisycs.

So, when the well was finally finished and his three metres tall neck positioned on top of its generous mouth, the Governor had another intuition.

Souls

At the time people were speaking more and more about souls. The researches of Doctor K. lead to incredible results, but no one had never found a way of taking out a soul. The first one achieving that result would make a huge step ahead the others.

Fascinated by the idea of being cited in a history book, the Governor that day asked for a small bird and a cage to put outside the end of the well. The request was unexpected and strange enough to attract a lot of jokes on him by the soldiers.

What has in mind the old guy?

He really said he wanted a bird or a cock?

And everyone bursting in laugh

Il treno_the train
Il treno_the train

We must say, the Governor was aware of all those comments, but he knew as well no one of those ignorant ever opened an animasofic or animysic book. They couldn’t possibly know what the father of animasofia, K., wrote during the Horn slaughtering:

Today I discovered something extraordinary. When I was calculating the exact weight of a souls on 120 corpses, I noticed something. Science proceed with trials and errors, but I know that the pure fate sometimes is what illuminates the mind of a scientist. In this case, my mind has been enlightened by a small cage and a yellow canary (…)

(…) I could see, even with my bare eyes, a grey aura, like smoke, coming out from the corpses laying in the shadow of the Horn. The shape and volume of it was similar to the smoke you can see going out from a small chimney.

(…) The aura– smoke lead to the poor canary, and suddenly the sweet singing stopped. For few minutes the body stayed still, while the smoke turned around it, like dancing. Then, as it had lost interest, the aura flew away, leaving behind a death body.”

The canary

Besides the bookish style, the story of the canary was fascinating. And the Governor was literally enlightened by that reading. Decided then to prepare a cage on top of his own well and ordered to throw inside one of the prisoners. Being the water so precious, he decided not to spoil it, and hang the prisoner to a rope.

The Governor didn’t listen the screaming and praying of the prisoner, a man guilty to be born on the wrong side of the border. If he just would have been born twenty metres away, he had been one of the executioner, right now.

Silence

After the poor man was thrown inside the well, the screaming stopped and there was silence instead. Try just to imagine what the soldiers were speaking about, terrorized. It was a torrid summer and they were stuck in the middle of the clearing. Few minutes passed, and suddenly the chirping of the canary started being stronger, afraid even.

Chiiirp Chiiirp Chiiirp Chiirp Chirp Ch

The Governor, after the canary stopped chirping, noted:

A small cloud, as a cloud of vapour, dark grey in colour. It started spinning around the corpse of the canary. It was true, it was happening! I decided to intervene.

Taken a thick blanket, he throw it on top of the cage and took the cage itself with him. Run to the Head Quarters keeping the cage still in his shaking hands. He decided to remove the blanket only in his own office.

There still was a big chance that all that was just craziness. But it worth a try. He didn’t want to put himself in a strange situation in front of the soldiers, either. He closed the door and switched on a small light on top of his desk.

Closed the door and switched on the light on my desk, I put the blanket with the cage on the ground. I felt the poor canary’s dead body falling on the other side of the cage. In that moment I almost lost my hope. I said to myself I’m a visionary, a fool, and I started thinking the whole thing was just the fruit of my imagination. You probably know that we are our own worst enemies. Then, after removing the blanket, I clearly saw it. A grey shadow trapped inside the blanket, almost invisible on the dim light of my desk. And yet, I could see it clearly. In few seconds it was in the air, where disappeared in front of my astonished eyes.

Repeat the experiment

Back to the well, the Governor decided to repeat the experiment, but on a larger scale. Twenty prisoners and twenty canaries were positioned in a lugubrious line arriving to the well. One after the other they finished hung up inside the well and one after the other the cages went silent, with a blanket on top.

The experiment was repeated again with 1200 prisoners, and that is the famous 23rd of July. That day is the day of the revolution, and from that moment on the place took the name of Prison of Souls.

Oh, how to forget a book like that?

Today, over my iron belly seat hundreds of men and women. And among them, two men and a woman attracted my curiosity. You can see that they don’t know almost anything about each other, but they all are going to the same place. The one that knows less is the woman. She’s calm and keep watching a pocket with a spot of blood.

The men speak in a low voice from time to time.

How did you find her so quick?

I’m a track finder, no? It’s my job

Hmpf

I have my informants, don’t worry. Now the easiest part will be to take your soul. She would have put it in some girlish box, for sure

Hmpf

I have the strange impression the soul is guiding her. And if the soul didn’t spot us yet, it means we’re safe. I feel we’re close, really close. There’s only the forest here around

Hmpf. And what’s your plan to avoid the soldiers?

I told you, don’t worry. We’re going to use her as a bait

Hmpf

Believe me, everything’s going to be all right

I’m just a train

I’m just a train, but I can see these two men aren’t the best travel companions for the woman. Oh, finally the forest starts, we’re almost at the end. From now on is forbidden to continue, if not with a small airplane and on the West side. Outside, at the train station, the usual deployment of force on the East side. Clearly an army patrolling a forest is something amazing!

The three of them get out of the train and they disappear among the people. They’re now part of the forest of legs and arms with no boundaries. And no directions.

Oh, and about me, I’m going to go back to my iron skates, ready to disappear again over the mountains. Over this forest, to cities of smoke and concrete. Where trains come from.

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

Sotto il cappello_under the hat

Treason!

— Read the First Chapter —

— Read the Second Chapter —

— Read the previous part —

— Read in Italian —

Under the hat

Days and days without any sound, just the same bicycle parked in front of the house. From the room, a dim light which seems more a way to waste energy than illuminating. People passing by doesn’t really like our car parked here. Maybe this guy, or this hat, but I’m quite sure they will call authorities, soon. Waiting here is getting more and more unnerving every minute.


Puc, Puc

Knocking on the window


Outside, close to the car window, a man with hard features. One of those rare people whose never felt scared in his whole life. The eyes hidden, protected inside the skull, sharp forehead, he seems to have the right characteristics to be a survivor in this world. Enough for sure to scare someone knocking in a car window in a cold evening. Even if with well- cured hands.


Puc. Puc.


A small pause stands between the two knock, now. As if he wanted to speak with his fist.


Hmpf


And finally the guy opens the window. If it was me in the car, I would probably start the car and run. If I was him, right, if I wasn’t just a hat. My role is to protect him from wind and rain, how could I possibly understand about fists and car windows talks?

Cold like a fridge


The windy air runs inside the car, and it suddenly starts being cold as a fridge. Yet, no fruits or vegetables or anything else to make it a real fridge. The air, anyways, awaken the guy, which was almost asleep at the wheel.


Hi


The voice of the rough man says. No answer, if not a blink and a bored look from this perfect skull which wears me.


I know something you don’t know.


The voice changed, now it’s a bit less scary.


Hmpf


Oh, how chatty this guy! The other man thinks is an invitation, maybe, because he opens the door and seats in the car. Not in the front, but in the rear of the car. My head now has to decide, to turn three quarter or look at him from the rear view mirror. A leather seat makes some strange, funny sounds, but in the new comer’s voice there’s nothing funny.


I’m a track finder, my name is KI


Hmpf


I’m quite good tracking


Hmpf


It’s because of me if you’re sitting here watching like a fool a lamp in an empty room. And the person you’re searching for, would have changed already two times the timing of her watch while we’re speaking.


Empty?

Sotto il cappello_under the hat
Sotto il cappello_under the hat


Says the guy, abrubtly. Sometimes it’s just a word, a simple word to activate an entire vocabulary of reactions. This time he tries to turn and they find themselves with the noses one nose away from each other. They can smell the rancid coffee and the poor oral hygiene from each other’s mouths. The voice slips out of his lips before he could replace it with a more simple “hmpf”. The rough voice of the man, as a mumble of a old man, continues.


Yes, it’s empty. Briefly, it’s why I’m here. My task is to mislead you, so you’d take the wrong path while they’re far away. Did you like the bicycle? It was my idea


Where?


Maybe, before I would answer where, it would be easier to answer why


From features like these and a voice so low, I wouldn’t ever expect to be so polite. This is disconcerting, and a man so big and without any hat! But then, here he continues, with that voice that seems a recorded, crackling low sound.


We have a friend in common


Who?


S.


Not a friend of mine


Yes, well. But I’m pretty sure you met him and he knows you’re after the girl


He knows a lot, this man with no hat! Obviously, all this sounds suspicious. The eyes mounted in my perfect skull turn and watch in front, as ready to stop the conversation.


What do you want? My soul?


Finally, some real conversation, here!


No, my interest is on where your soul is leading


Hmpf


Hmpf, indeed


Here the silence sew some sounds around them, like a good tailor would do. One of those sounds is a dog, another a cat jumping from a waste bin. Why cats do such crazy things?


They’re going to the prison of souls


The Prison of Souls!


No, that’s enough. Probably cats are crazy, but at least are elegant, beautiful animals. Why two men would ever decide to jump in that waste bin which is the prison of souls? Come on, you’ve got brains, please think about something else.

That’s a monstrous place, if not even just a bad idea, a non- existing place. As if the real prison of men wasn’t his own body, his illusions and his eyelids. Which souls would ever been there, in that prison? I’ve never seen this guy so surprised, the pupils dilated as cat’s eyes. Speaking about cats.


The wind moves the tops of the cured plants in the gardens. The lamps is switch off, in the house, while the two men close the door and walk silently. Then, the guy with the grim speaks again.


Only the doctor knows where the place is. S. doesn’t know it yet and it would be an advantage for me, for us. Help me find the prison and you’ll have your soul in a plate


Do you mean, in a box


Yes, yes. Anyways, you understood me


The car now pass through small roads, outside a small house for shepherds. Or people escaping.


Here is where she’s been hiding. Until this morning, when she caught the train


Let’s go, I don’t want to waste more time. Why did you wait so long to approach me?


You must give your pray some advantage, if you want to take it by surprise


Umpf


Bom Bom Bom


A bell ring somewhere, the trees vibrate and dance in the air, while two men go in the dark. One of them has a small smile under his hat.

— And the next week, the End of the Third Chapter. The train! —

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

La biblioteca

The library

— Read the First Chapter —

— Read the Second Chapter —

— Read the previous part —

— Read in Italian —

Events

It was a long time life didn’t dare, or even attempt, to transform some drops into a rushing stream, or even a river. It’s a fact that, sometimes, a drop slips from his fate and finishes in a dry place. That calls rapidly other drops, before the sun realises the fact.

Being cautious this sip of unpredictable existence would be strong enough to open its way to the sea. There, different kind of fishes, and sea turtles, even corals start growing. You just being really patient to see all those things happen. The same patience you can read in the face of a delayed dinosaur, called turtle, when she’s trying to win the force of the current.

So, it’s there in the end, at the estuary of our river, before meeting new and strange new travel companions. It’s there where you’ll find your destiny.

A destiny

Now, lulled by the movement of the train, M. dreams about being inside the belly of an enormous desert snake. Then she looks at me, a thoughtful smile for her strange fate. That only drop is now a story and this is for sure the last train of the day. No one else can follow her, now she’s not in danger anymore.

This is the last stop, outside is darker and darker every second, the train

dakadakadakadakdadakakakakakakaakakssssss

stops with his famous coughing.

Places

There are some places, far away from everything, behind the magic altars build to obstruct the conscience. Here you can find the most strange and solitary people, but also small cars in which some time-less characters listen to the radio with their windows down.

Over the walls, somewhere, carefree voices and thin hands speak without any filters. You can find people like that around train stations, in great parks, and in the concerts where people wear oversized t-shirts and jeans. Those mushrooms find their perfect habitat here, where they can proliferate.

The shadow

Among those bubble of conscience, you can now spot an oblique shadow, a shape cut roughly by the last sun of the day and the first lights of the streetlamps. The shadow run and stretch touching the hairs of a girl peacefully drawing in her block a church three hundred years old.

The shadow continues, getting now squared, now stretching again. It passes over some walls and then in a street without shadows. Or lights. She gets down into the centre of Earth, in the mysterious belly that patiently host us long time. Outside a sign says

Tavern- Meat

And again the illusion of reality. New shadows, now coloured in yellow and red ready to redefine the boundaries as well as expectations. You read tavern but you actually think

Wine

Then you read meat and what you really get is

Fireplace, wood, warm

Everything that in a moment like this here seems to be just a mirage. Unless, then, suddenly would become real. The hands push hard on the door which separate this shadow from wine, fire, wood and warm against the cold of the evening.

A cold that taking the sun by surprise, advance again in his kingdom, the night. A vortex of light is enough to make this eyes blind for a while, accustomed to stay in the dark, with no sleep whatsoever in days.

Food, at least

To be followed has pro and co. The pro are always shining in the smiles of the optimistic people, even though hunger and thirst don’t help much here.

Few steps inside and four muscled arms get interested on the new coming. No one sees me, the watch. If they’d spotted me, they would see I’m still 3 hours behind. It’s not my fault, as you can guess. I’m not able to change myself the time. And I’m correct, in my own way, in another longitude.

The interesting shadow

Ignore me, if you want, you peasants, but I dare you to ignore this fascinating woman, here. She’s tall, with short hair, a thin wrist with soft hands. No, she’s written all over the face she’s not from here. She’s a stranger, and here they don’t see strangers so often.

The way she walks in is confident, and confident are the eyes looking over her. Four, as the arms, four eyes ready not to miss a single step of this thin figure now asking

Could I have please a glass of water and a sandwich? Oh, and a spirit, any spirit.

Which sandwich?

Anything, I’m starving

The man on the other side of the counter has one of those faces you forget immediately. Anonymous, he could easily work as a spy or model for haemorrhoids medicine. Doesn’t seem to be nice, neither a criminal and you’ll never see him watching you straight in the face for sure. If not probably if you’d look at the mirror. For sure, this woman keeping me in her wrist doesn’t care, anyway.

Here we go, your water and the sandwich

And the spirit?

Oh, I’m sorry, here we are. Our best vodka, Miss

Mrs

Mrs

Thanks

Can I offer you this one, madame?

The voice comes from one of the four arms sipping a beer at the counter. The strongest arms.

And he stress the phrase on the last word. As he wanted to account in a second all his life and his temper, too. As he wanted to say that he was married once, and exactly as her he doesn’t have rings any more,and be a Miss or Mrs isn’t such an obstacle for him.

She’s a pretty woman and he has two big arms and a yellowish coffee- cigarette- coffee smile, with a nice scent from the supermarket where he works. The real alpha- male.

The thin lips move a bit in an arch that seems to be a short smile, then she open them to gulp the water and vodka in rapid succession. Got rid of the cold and the thirst, now she’s just hungry. But suddenly this isn’t the right place to eat anymore.

Hey, where are you going? You didn’t even tell me your name!

This steps stop in front of the door. Outside the wind sings in B- flat and a door shouts somewhere.

Thanks for the vodka, but the least thing I want is to occupy your arm with a new tattoo with my name. Goodbye

The door shouts, leaving behind two open mouths and a stoic one. The bartender, even the last photogenetic, finds more interesting to rub the bottom of a glass than caring about this human fights. Inside the pocket, the bloody reason of all this rush.

Escaping

That soul, that rough voice which is following her everywhere, is guiding her. Escape, outbreak, runaround, she learned all the possible synonymous of the word in the last weeks. No bed is lucky enough to feel the warm body of the doctor enough to get warm itself. The chain is unbroken, and is made of steps, trains, cars, rooms and strange men.

This is the place she’s searching, the

Public Library- Office Advertisement and Entertainment- School of Life

She entered just for the library, but she cannot avoid a look to those children following bored a professor. In the blackboard she can read

Taxations are for losers- How to avoid them

It’s incredible how the State, instead of modelling responsible citizens, teaches them how to beat the laws. In a perfect world they’d be taught how to pay the taxes, instead. These students, however, decided to follow another path, more convenient.

Not everyone is ready to follow such subjects as “how to survive with State grants” or “robbery”. If the Governor opened this school, back then, for sure he had his own reasons. Without no one going against the rules, he probably thought, the rules itself could be forgotten and with them whom is in charge to control their respect.

The library

Here we come, here’s the library. The hand takes the wallet, the card got older from the years of university. The watch on the wall says it’s 7.30, I say it’s 10.30. Luckily everyone follows the ugly big watch on the wall, so M. will have a chance to enter and read the book she’s interested in. Seated at the tables professors and doctorates ready to go home. In the section esoanimaterism she finally finds the books she needs.

Antianimatology of the part of the real world

Taxonomy and regulations of spirit and matters

How to free a soul from the controls of life?

In the last one, the expert look of M. reads:

When a soul is cut from its adoptive body (cfr. Chapter III Reactions and Aura) passes as a non material and non temporal substance in the form of waves auto- reflecting. In more practical terms, it detaches from the subject without losing the real consistency and the essence. A new theory sees the soul as a victim annexes to a new body.

Interesting. So it explains this voice always speaking to us, trapped in the small finger. Now we need to rush a bit, find something about the well of soul. It seems impossible, but:

(…) where the mountains once a city now lays, where the trees don’t follow the sun, but that dark sea called soul.

That’s all? That’s something every child in the world knows. Everyone knows that phrase, but when they try to understand the real meaning, they don’t really find one. It seems a lullaby, that makes you shiver, the Prison of Souls where all evils will perish. No one really believes on it, but no one really stop to believe on it. Soul, soul, that’s not the right moment to disappear.

Take the red book from the shelf

The soul finally spoke. Actually, on the top of the shelf there’s a small book, its cover chewed by insects, by the time or maybe by someone with long big nails.

M. Gets on her toes and touch the volume. It’s a common book, with the title

How to make a story

What would be useful in this book about what we’re searching for? M. starts reading, trying to find any secret passage, a message between lines. Nothing seems to be interesting.

When you write a story, it’s important a moment of pathos, from the Greek word (…)

Nothing, nothing important to help her, not even a small hint. Then, the chapter entitled

Writing is not for everyone. If you don’t know anyone in the field, go for horse- riding instead.

A sound

Tup

A small piece of paper drops on the ground, yellowish by the time, made of a thick hard paper, an expensive one.

In the place which once was a mountain and now it’s a city, where the trees don’t follow the sun, but that dark mystery called, soul instead. You’re almost there. Now watch at your right side.

M., even if the whole situation seems just a dream, watches at her right side and for the first time notices an image and a note handwritten on it.

Madame, please, it’s closing time!

The rough voice of the librarian shouts. He has a family and a football match to watch. He’s not payed for losing a minute more in this non- sense place full of paper rectangles.

Y- yes. Just give me a minute, please

The figure of the librarian goes away, mumbling something inaudible. The note on the wall is a girl’s writing, someone who wrote fast on top of a picture of a forest.

Piantonia, where the roots face the sun. For helicopter excursions please call the rectangle- number at the bottom

La biblioteca
La biblioteca

After leaving the book in its place, she decide to get closer to the picture. Plantonia, the Nation of Plants. The place in which no human being can step on. But how that book knew what… the yellow paper, it’s still on her hands. Now it’s telling something else:

Enter where you know, walk from the East. There you’ll find the Well of Souls

Then, the imagine disappears and a note big as a scream appears

BURN ME!

A shadow, again

So M. escapes from the big wooden mouths of the library and goes in the street. In the purse’s pocket she finds a lighter, old friend from the time in which she was a smoker. Slowly, put fire on the side of the paper and feels it whistling and making smoke.

When the last piece of paper gets to the ground, it seems to her that a note appears

 Thank you

But it’s already ashes, wind, fog wrapping the valley. But now she knows where to go. And thinking about her destiny she gets lost in the night, eating ravenous a sandwich red as blood.

— And the next week… Treason! —

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

La trappola_the trap

The trap works

— Read the First Chapter —

— Read the Second Chapter —

— Read the previous part —

— Read in Italian —

The bicycle

It was just few minutes ago. Then the woman took her bicycle, again. Following those wheels are not as easy as you can think, in the traffic. For cars is easier, with all that red, and yellow and green.

Two wheels

A bicycle, though, is pure action, a shadow suspended between two round mouths eating asphalt, jumping skilfully over and down the sidewalks. Blue and black that bicycle is even difficult to catch, in a small town got all black and grey by the escape of people to the city. No, the city let enough people still live here, they’re necessary.

Grey hair, grey towns

People here are getting more and more grey every day, white even as mountains tops. The only help comes from the white beards of the old people, in fact. They let the blue and black bicycle stand out and so being recognisable. Elderly people point, then. Yes, they have white hair, they speak slower than the others, spit on the ground and point with their fingers. Not everyone can point out as elderly people do. I saw youngsters trying to point out something and ending up fighting.

The market

Anyways, that was the market, completely another story. When you’re in the market you know they’re not going to be soft. They shout, trying their best to attract the attention of people passing by. It’s a surviving game.

A stuttering shouting amass of wreckage, fruits and jeans interrupted only by the rain. When it’s raining, everyone got under their big umbrellas to smoke their peace pipe. A cigarette and let’s go out, as shell-less snails. Shouting and selling again.

Just sun

To be honest, here there’s no rain, but a big sun wagging his tail and barking through the lawns, meowing on the roofs and stumbling on a ball in the backyards. Maybe there’s no rain, but there’s a lot of life here. You can still see those circular breathing and die that the suicide offices hate.

Dough of humanity

Those offices they never get really popular in this place. This is more the place in which all the soldiers, the night janitors, the workers have their origin. Here the bread dough is made, ready to go to the oven to be cooked. When it’s finally ready, when it’s a human being well formed, this one-day-dough go to the city, hoping to be eaten by someone.

Refused bread

Refused bread, the imperfect dough, most of the time would come back here. First just to find some peace with dad and mum, then to start a new job as a cashier, waiting for the hair turning grey. And with the secret hope to make a great dough, a bread good enough to be eaten by the ravenous mouths of the city.

The bicycle run fast through the streets, disappears, then appears again. A lighthouse over a quiet sea, it flashes reflecting the sun.

Just an humble hat

My head doesn’t know where to turn anymore, all sweat at it is. The sweat is the worst enemy for us, hats. It let us slip down, and we start being annoying. But wait a bit of wind and rain and you’ll start loving me again, you big head!

Few days passed and this bicycle run fast through the streets, leaving behind this elephantine man asking himself

Where would she have been?

Something isn’t right, anyways. If at the beginning finding her was quite simple, now she’s just a shadow which appears and disappears as a dream. A nightmare, frankly. A nightmare willing to wake up this guy, which miss his grandma, or the shadow of his mum, to switch on the light and make all those scary shape worthless.

He needs to find that woman, but she’s not what he’s really searching for. He doesn’t really care about her, what he needs is to put his hands on the soul. That’s all that matters. He wants to take that soul in his hands again and laugh, finally. Just laugh with his white soul.

Ah, ah!

The laugh leaves the lungs and passes through the vocal cords, modulated by the humid tongue and the dry lips. It’s too late to understand that he’s not alone with his thoughts. The old people around start glancing at him as he was a strange fool thing. Then they seem to realise it’s a huge fool strange thing, with muscles and all so they keep going with their conversation leaving the craziness to the craziness.

Alone, again

A new idea comes now to his mind. I feel the idea passing from one ear to the other. The pupils dilate, the fingers rub the lips and from there goes straight to the forehead. Sure!

Why wasting time trying to catch her? If she’s escaping, there would be a reason, no? And if someone will catch her before him? Or worst, someone will alert her every time he will be there around, like that time at the hotel? The best thing to do now it’s following her, but not too close.

It’s difficult to disappear

We have to take into consideration that it’s really difficult to disappear, when you are so big. Long steps pass through the streets inflating the shadows of the sun. Some pigeons happily coo swelling up as well as the shadows, some leaves leave a tree to try their luck in the street.

The bicycle_the trap
La trappola funziona_ the trap

The steps now are firm, secure, you can see he has a plan in mind. Why he didn’t think about that before!? Why trying to stop that bicycle all these days, when the best move from the beginning would be finding a small house with a blue bicycle parked in front? Not all the houses are hidden behind a bicycle, after all.

Finally!

And, in fact, the bicycle is there. A small building with the colour of the palm of a hand, where someone has drawn a brown door and two green windows. He just needs to park here in front and wait. So clever, he understood everything so quick, just three days. Oh, but with a head like that! We hats can recognize when someone is clever.

–And the next week… The Library!–

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

Camerieri_waiters

Waiters

— Read the First Chapter —

— Read the Second Chapter —

— Read the previous part —

— Read in Italian —

The letter

Only M. knows the truth. Or part of it.

What I know is that we don’t have much time to loose, since the guy will come here in minutes. M. rushed into the hotel with her grey bag, scared enough to hide. But if S. would find her first he would have a probability to understand something more. How they’d say? He will put a new piece of the puzzle in the right place.

A chaotic walz

Waiters and men with straw hats share the ground floor with elegant women. Not to eat, that’s clear. After all, this is the kind of place people book for the soft slippers in room and in swimming pool. Don’t carry anything else here but your money.

Escape from metropolis

It’s not just this place alone, you’ll able to find tons of places like this in the countryside, with tons of people from the metropolis in it. Far from the city, they can have all commodities at hand and, at the same time, slowly pollute and destroy what they already polluted and destroyed in the city, before. They had to cut some trees and they got the water the characteristic grey colour, but having a bath in a nice swimming pool has its own price.

Waiters and waiters

They don’t stop with a mere swimming pool, here. No, there is a feeding line filling  the main room with waiters, all hopping from one foot to the other keeping in balance heavy metal trays. You can find everything on top of that trays, from exotic fruits to soul’s brandy. It’s a never ending chain that line, a roller coaster of food.

Human domino!

Oh, it would be just magic to trip this woman with the dark fur and let her stumble. Oh, would be amazing seeing her falling to the ground carrying all the others with her. A human domino about which tomorrow all the newspapers will speak!

Here she is!

Wait a second, here she is, M. I can spot her red shoes. S. doesn’t see her, yet, but she’s there, just across the room close to that man with round ears. No, he cannot see her, in this chaotic rendez- vous of trays and food. You have to be a pair of shoes sometimes to spot some details. But she spotted him, anyways, and now is watching him from behind a plastic plant, asking to herself.

Should I stay or should I go?

It’s not a song, but a genuine question. And even from here I can feel an answer coming from somewhere

It’s not him you have to be afraid of, but the man that entered in your room crashing your door. This man with moustaches will be your solution

That voice

That voice seemed to have the power of calm her down. She’s actually got a point on being afraid, what a way to awake running from your own window! Sink or swim, she must take a risk, but in her own way. She suddenly start scribbling fast in a piece of paper.

The food wheel of waiters is still going on, but here there is a waiter with empty hands.

Grab him!

Camerieri_waiters

Sorry, are you available?

Actually, no. I’m going to take an order…

Excellent, take my order. Do you see that man with pointy moustaches?

Y-yes

Amazing, you must give this piece of paper directly to him. It’s a matter of life or… Never mind, take this money and go

And suddenly two piece of paper makes the waiter smile and utter a:

Thank you

But before he finished to thank her, M. is already crowd, part of this circular chatting, coming and going, of this room- service order of things.

Surprise!

Hi, I have a message for you

S. shows his best genuine surprised face. All his attention taken from the research of M., he didn’t even see the waiter coming. He takes the letter from him which, without saying anything, disappears in the eating- assembly- line. S. doesn’t have  a chain or a line to disappear in anymore. He lean against the counter and starts reading.

We have met before, not long ago. You are a dealer of souls and I’m a doctor. What you are searching for is a white soul, even though I don’t know why. Right, I want to make a deal with you. I’m not interested in the soul, I will keep it until I reach the Well of Souls. I’m heading there right now. If you really care about your soul, keep me safe from the huge man who’s following me. After I will reach the well, you’ll have your soul back. If you agree with me write grab a white rose from a vase and pin to your jacket, I will see you.

I hope one day we will meet again in normal circumstances.

Good luck,

M.

A white rose!

S. tears the letter apart and throws it in the waist bin under the counter. Now he goes in a rush to the first table where an old couple is playing cards and takes one of the white roses from the vase. She’s still watching him? This flowers don’t need to have any colour, as they don’t have any smell. That faded long time ago, while they let them travel inside a fridge as they were steaks.

What do you think you’re doing, young man?

The old woman is shocked, how dare him stealing a rose from her vase? The husband in front of her take the chance to cheat and watch her cards.

Fast, fast!

S. doesn’t care, he just look around hoping she’d seen him. Suddenly, the huge guy enters in the room, with his hat still lowered over his eyes. There’s not much time, he needs to get rid of him. But how? First things first, now he needs to go out, out in the world, out from this chain, in the countryside. Without swimming pools and food lines. Where the trees still sing.

— And the next week… Help! —

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

Umano_Human the restaurant

Human

— Read the First Chapter —

— Read the Second Chapter —

— Read the previous part —

— Read in Italian —

The restaurant

Real… food?

Between a table and another you can count three steps. All squared tables are wooden, with a small tablecloth. On top of each table stands a small dusty plastic plant. Two steps more and S. cuts the breath in two with wrinkled lips aghast, horrified by that human noise.

All around him, the feet wearing dirty trainers move between tables, while mouths are passing from one conversation to the other so fast and smooth that you cannot understand a single word anymore. This is a human soup with not so much meat but really tasty juice. Spicy conversations are carried out by yellow teeth due to too much coffees and house wines.

Tracks

Everyone shows shadows of smiles through the wrinkles of their faces. Their real human faces, I mean. When a human dies you can open up its face and read more than if he or she wrote it in a personal diary. For instance, imagine one of those that always forget how to smile. In this case, their face will show weak facial muscles all around the mouth. At the opposite, whom always corrugates his forehead will leave tonic muscles for a curious forensic. Wrinkles are rivers, invisible roads, natural passages to reach our passions.

A brand new world

And again red faces, ruddy cheeks, neckline sparkling with sweat and tattooed arms speaking as they were singing, moving their backs over Cain and Abel style chairs. Too much, for whom since yesterday was walking over waxed white Asian soundproofed floors.

  Addio piccolo Cherubino. Come cangia in un punto il tuo destino!

A crazy day

Yes, it really seems to be a follee journèe, a crazy day. Started in a metro wagon, to be continued outside the shadows of building, in another train a bit more noisy than the first one. Along with that, now, a place illuminated by the sun. The kind of place, the countryside, that comes to mind to citizens of the metropolis only when smog clouds start being an unbreathable mask for them. Then there were two steps out of the train and out, at the train station.

Central Station T.

Cherubino alla vittoria! Alla gloria militar!

The battle for survival definitely started. One last step toward the trench, the human contact. This is the real human contact, the one that only the bipeds equipped with nose and opposable thumb are able to do. Words.

Hi

A whisper, audible only by three flies scratching their heads and waiting to attack a breadcrumb on the table close- by.

Hi

Repeat (this time stronger) S. attracting the attention of the innkeeper and scaring the three insects. A warty- nose man without an ear replies with a deep voice

Uh

Which, given the situation, is still something. The steps back up nearly falling down. I’m a pair of shoes at the mercy of two insecure feet.

Could I please have a table?

The voice now is a bit more confident, the eyebrow raised in the commanding style. The communicative effort is impressive. You can see the answer coming from a slow process in the primitive brain of the one- ear man.

Uh

Thus plus a nod seem to indicate a small round table. A different one, not squared as all the others in the busy noisy restaurant.

Yes, a brand new world

Right, it’s not even close to the white Asian material we were used to, but in the end you can see the innkeeper made an effort to give S. the best option available. On the table the classic plastic plant and a coconut- shaped ashtray. The glance of the man of tomorrow, seated in the middle of the buzz, seems to get lost. It jumps from one conversation to the other, roaming from mouths full of food to hand moving.

Who ordered?

 Even though I didn’t listen to him ordering any food, a steaming dish appears from nowhere. Maybe he ordered in a silent way. One of those human way of saying

Do as you wish

Sometimes with just one look they solve all useless questions. After all, the hunger is knocking louder at the stomach’s walls, so this steaming dish is the only answer available.

The left leg start moving again, showing nervousness in the mute language of the lower limb. The effect is immediate: I feel myself as having an endless hiccup.

Hi there

Umano_Human the restaurant
Human food

And as all the hiccup, this one needs to get  scared to stop. A gentleman with fuchsia socks and neat nails looks S. from a near table. He’s waiting for a reaction.

S. Say what?

You cannot really say if he’s introducing himself or just stammering.

Can I join you?

S. Certainly

No, probably is more likely a stammer than an introduction

Are you feel ok? Comfortable?

The voice is deep, as coming to the surface of the world with a rotten wood bucket and a rusty pulley.

Yes, yes. Why are you asking?

I don’t know, you have a face…

Oh, you have a face as well

You’re right. But it seems to me that you face specifically saw better times

The noise of conversations, the clutter of dishes and cutlery, cheers and crying of children make all this conversation a bit surreal.

The truth is that for me this is a strange world. I’m an alien, here. I come from the metropolis

Oh, I guessed that

I’m S., I’m a dealer of souls

Why?

I don’t really know anymore…

No, I mean, my name is Y.

Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought… Anyways, what is your job?

Let’s say I’m a mediator

Oh, a mediator between whom?

Between what you already know and what you want to know

Mmm a dealer of lamps and nose, I would say

Ah, ah. Yes, let’s say only noses. I leave the lamps to you

You’re not from here as well, then

No, I came here escaping from the noise, but now I’m craving for it

That’s interesting

No defences, anymore

This entire conversation, this chatting, has almost destroyed the last defence of my pointy- moustache man. In all this chaos, who can be such a distinguished gentleman, but at the same time with such a grim?

Oh, right. It was so clear all the way. Keen eye, jaw clenching and a big fist. He’s a policeman or a tracker for sure.

And then, suddenly he stands up leaving a business card on the table.

If you need me, you know where to find me. Enjoy your meal

And before S. can say something, he’s gone. An invisible shadow passing through the tables and leaving.

And the dish on the table is not steaming anymore.

— The next week… Love…Run! —

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

Second Chapter

Second Chapter

Souls (Alive)

Death, souls, escape and truth

So many pieces of this story seem not to match, as they were a complicated w/b puzzle. We have flashbacks accounted by a crying grandma ashamed of herself, suicide offices and souls hidden inside cut fingers.

A story of souls?

Little by little we start understanding that this story is not all about souls as we thought. Not really. Souls are just an energy, the hidden force behind our world, which tell stories, give us a structure. In a word, they are the shape of th world itself.

A story of desires

S. has a desire: having his souls back. His ultimate dream would be one day to have his father’s soul, which was his own present. He desires a great career, and this as well as having his father’s souls has to come to terms with reality. The boy, in the meantime, is searching his own revenge against whom, his grandma said, stole his soul (and all his perspective with it). M. is the most cyinic of all the characters. She doesn’t want to dive into the world. Not anymore. Souls, corpses or the chirping of birds, everything’s part of an alien world for her. Even though the fate, in the shape of a soul, is going to take her in a journey.

The escape

Finally, an escape for three. An escape for souls and desires, ready to lead us in an unexpected travel. A travel in a souls world in which people are still planting its own dreams, drinking coffee and eating in restaurants.

The second chapter

Second Chapter
Second Chapter: The journey of souls
  1. The Big day
  2. The night
  3. About body and soul
  4. Find him!
  5. That boy
  6. Vendetta!
  7. The pyramid
  8. Bu
  9. The patient of 8.05 a.m.
  10. The doctor
  11. A corpse that… speaks?
  12. The hat
  13. Steps

Didn’t read the First Chapter? Do it now!