Tag Archive story



— 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


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 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

That boy_ the hand of the grandma

That boy

— Read in Italian–

— Read the previous paragraph —

A sunny day

As absurd it would sound, sometimes we refer to a day as a “Sunny day”. As if in all the other cases the sun wasn’t there to show that the Earth isn’t hidden alone in the darkness of the universe. Even in the places in which seals and polar bears still survive, the sun is still there. Maybe you cannot see it for sometimes, but it’s still there, as an adult hiding from a child to win a laugh.

The world of souls

Chapter One

The World of the Souls

Read in Italian

A chapter is finished. If you’d only see your faces, while you run opening and closing doors, you’d have an idea why I decided to write this story. Nothing but us, humanity amassed at the angles of the circle. I saw mothers and fathers, sleepy children and small- bear shaped clouds. In the end I needed this story to put all my sensations, my visions all together.

The restaurants

The restaurants, for instance, the places in which I pass most of my time. People I met just few minutes before trying to stay focus, waiting for an electric impulse from the other side of the world to bring them a smile. As the person who decided to wait for the rain at the margin of the desert, while sitting on a water spring.

The roads

The roads have been introduced in this chapter. Full of mud, sand and cars. Only the characters are missing, the so- called humans. They are hidden inside their cars drinking long coffee. Outside a surreal noise is trying to let people love Nature, again.

The souls

Souls are the link between everything and everyone. In this past chapter they silently linked everyone, while in the next one they will start to scream. A drum, passing information from one village to the other, a plot which grows without getting too dense. Layers of clouds.

A foretaste

In the next chapter there will be some new faces. You know a lot already, from the objects able to account to S.’s dreams of glory. The story will be more alive and interesting. New point of view are going to come, watches able to keep track of time in the story. What can I add? See you next week as always!

Oh, p.s.

Below you’ll find all the 12 parts of the story. Yes, 12 as the numbers in a watch which is looking forward to find his role in the story.

-1– I’m a humble pair of shoes –1–

–2– The soul’s speech –2–

–3 — The value of a soul –3–

— 4 — The dealer of souls— 4 —

— 5— The store of souls — 5 —

— 6– Sales lessons —6–

—7– The souls device —7–

—8– The cinema, the advertisement—8–

–9–Cinema, the kiss–9–

–10–The Restaurant –10–

-11- The Boss -11-

-12- The wall -12-

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


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 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

Il venditore di anime

The dealer of souls

read the previous article—

read in Italian—

The dealer of souls

Why the most strange job, between all jobs?

They call it a job! Working has a sense only if you wake up in the morning angry and tired in the morning. Make the bread or the ham, make the cheese or sell and buy, to weight and using instruments, tools. That is something which makes complete sense to be called a job.

I'm a humble pair of shoes

I’m a humble pair of shoes

–Read in Italian–

I don’t know what it would be, an object maybe kicking and howling in my chest. Does it have a name? If called, will it answer?

Souls (alive)

Chapter I

How they finally found out souls aren’t just born to work the land

I’m a humble pair of shoes

I know, I absolutely know. You’re not going to give any credibility to a humble pair of shoes, even though I can say I’m brand new, as new as a Government its first day after election. Don’t blame the new comer, though. Like every new comer, I’m not really new at all. And I don’t feel out of place when I compare myself with all those other moronic- lost- stitched- damned souls.


I'm a humble pair of shoes

I’m a humble pair of shoes

Why don’t I deserve a bit of credit myself? Actually, the fact your’re still here reading is a vote of confidence. And if I’m here, you can bet I’m not the same as all the other shoes. I know how many times you’ve heard this before, but I’m not really the kind of shoes eager to shout out “Griffondubledore!”. I know it’s easier that way, instead of imagining me as a mere case for a roving soul. Therefore, there’s nothing bizarre  about the fact that I feel immediately comfortable in the presence of this tall gentleman with the fashionable moustache. You don’t see it everyday, I must say (fashionable moustache, not tall gentleman). Ask yourself, who’s more nomadic than a salesman?

The man with the shoes

I like him because he’s always walking around, and can charm anyone with his words. Hopping from one foot to the other, he likes to take the tram and is oblivious to status symbols (you know, the kindthat induce you to spend the amount a new frisge would cost to buy a used phone). I think mostly my actual condition, being a pair of shoes, has nothing to do with a divine punishment; one of those castigations typical of celestial manuals with all the universal knowledge. I read those books during my roving around in different worlds. I don’t want to surprise you, but here everyone knows that there is no such thing as double H (Heaven and Hell). Science even convinced theagnostics. They searched deeper and deeper until they really found something. The final entity: the original soul in every human body. And we weight the soul, just for fun. The soul has always been there, but we were too blind, too uneducated to find it. We have since discovered that when the body is dead, it passes from an alive state with a soul to one dead with soul, but just for few seconds.

The passage

You have only few seconds to perform what’s known as “the miracle”. A specially designed apparatus sucks the soul before it goes to waste, disappearing into thin air, like a common gas (story of my life). As soon as the soul is inside the apparatus, it takes on the appeareance of a light. The purity and colour of the light varies, denoting the importance and value of the soul and therefore its rating. Sometimes, rarely, the soul is so attached to the body it’s leaving, that it has a wish to die with it. One example is the case of a famous artist who everyone knows, even the one between you that are less informed about art. A huge guy, you’d never imagine him to be an artist. A boxer maybe, a hulk with a grim look in his eyes which makes you think he’s about to rob you, or worse. On the contrary, he was a comic actor- a kind soul.

That light

If only you’d been there when his soul left his body! The resulting light was capable of making a monk’s soul look dark in comparison. Everyone started to laugh for no particular reason, as though they were under the influence of some euphoric drug. Sometimes the presence of pure souls makes people feel like children. For one fleeting moment the soul gives the sensation of purity to everyone in its presence. And what is more pure than a light, carefree laugh? Then the room became dark and the comic, lying on the bed with closed eyes moved his lips and began speaking:

–The story continues next week with Soul’s speech–

–What is this story about?–

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

Le anime (vive) 800x800 DMQ Productions

Souls (alive)

–read in Italian–

–lee en Español–

 Souls (alive)



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).



Philippines, here we are

Welcome to Flyingstories.org

Our idea


There are so many different blogs and websites about travelling, teaching or simply tutorials. Seems like everyone is having the same idea in the same moment. How flyingstories is different? We’re not marketing oriented, with flyingstories we want to share our experience as travellers. Furthermore, we like to invent some stories from time to time and we’re gonna publish here.


Obviously, the flyingstories will be original and are going to have videos and pictures to explain it. Something more? We’re going to write in English, Italian and Russian, but we don’t want to stop there, come on board! Above all, we want to have fun, so we’re going to speak only about something we have a really expertise on. How to speak a new language, for example, or how to start writing a story. We’re going to be a tutorial, in the end?

Follow us!

If you want to have a better idea about our job here, just follow us on FB, Youtube, Linkedin and leave us a comment, we’re going to listen to you!


error: Content is protected !!