Dragons, Blood and Gold Part III - The End

What makes you alive?

As the nightmare lingered as the fire continues and charred bodies turned to ash, the two brothers lay in silence as their screams took their voices away. The story of their tragedy took them from settlement to settlement. Some people believed their stories, yet had no courage to say anything. Some did not believe any word that came out of those two brothers. Either way, the two brothers could never feel welcomed in any place at any time after they would tell their story to anyone and everyone that was willing to listen. Having lost friends, companions, wives, children, neighbors, the two marched on. Why were we even born? asks Baldbert. I don’t think there’s any other reason than our parents love, says Austrulf. I can’t help but wonder, continued Baldbert. It won’t do much good. Things happen. Looking for a reason when what happens is pointless. What happened to me, to you, it doesn’t matter to them. It doesn’t affect them. It doesn’t change the way the world is. None of the dragons know your name. None of the history will remember it either. We are doing our best and that’s that, Austrulf finishes his rant..Then what’s the point anymore? asks Baldbert. Whatever you want it to be, Austrulf. As weeks turn to months, all the two brothers can get is some pity or sympathy from people. At this point they can’t make the difference whether it’s one or the other. As they continue to live in tents or caves along the road as they try to dodge the dragons.

On a rainy night they muster the courage to find an inn to sleep at. As they enter they are greeted by a couple of tables of people talking politics, drinking and shouting lewd jokes at each other. One big drunk man with a long beard looks at the two as they are about to go towards the stairs and shouts at them. Oy! I can smell people with a good story from far away, and you two lads look like you’ve been through hell. You certainly smell like it, the man continued. As the two recounted their story the man laughs. I told ya I have a good nose for a story. And that’s a hell of a good one. Let me get you some ales as a reward, insists the loud man. So, where are you two headed? asks another man from the table. Anywhere and everywhere that would listen to our story, says Austrulf. But why? asks the same man again. Let me rephrase what my friend is trying to actually ask here, says the loud man, what do you think doing this will bring ya? asks the loud man. I hope when the dragon comes and burns you and your loved ones alive in front of you, says Baldbert before taking a gulp of the ale, that you remember us telling you our story, Baldbert says before taking another swig of his ale. Do you really think that complaining and telling everyone what happened to you that it will change anything? asks the loud man before laughing. I did not say that. I just told you to remember me and our story before you die, Baldbert says. Appreciate the drink, says Austrulf as the two get up to leave. Cowards, scoffs the loud man. Austrulf turns around and looks at them. We’ve been through countless settlements, villages, towns, we’ve told this story to many. How many of them do you see here today with us rallying to do something about it? None. Yet we continue… says Austrulf before they make their way upstairs to their room. What makes you alive? asks Baldbert. What? asks Austrulf. Nothing. Good night, says Baldbert.

The next morning the two brothers make their way out of town. They are both hit over the head with some wooden bats. Baldbert falls down hits his head on a rock and dies there. Austrulf manages to catch himself as he falls with his vision blurred by the blood dripping on his eyelids. He falls down. He wakes up days later with a headache and bandages around his head. A travelling merchant and his daughter took him on their carriage and nursed him back to health. He tells them his story, he thanks them and leaves on his own after reaching the next village. Not wanting to stop, he continues onward. As the night falls he hears a howling in the woods. With a big wooden stick he walks slowly trying to get to a place where he can camp overnight. As he walks, he feels something tugging at his leg. He turns around a wolf is biting his leg. He hits the wolf over the head so hard the big stick breaks and the wolf runs away. He keeps walking with fear that something might attack him again. He manages to find a small spring of water to clean his wound and drink some water. He gets up and moves along, fearing that animals might come to drink here as well. From exhaustion he decides that the first giant tree he finds he will rest next to it. As he walks through the dark forest he finds a big tree, he leans against it and slides down breathing a sigh of relief. Austrulf falls asleep. For the next three days, Austrulf wanders the forest trying to find his way out of it, as during the night he went off the beaten path. In an encounter with a boar he breaks his left arm as he put it forwards to defend himself. In an encounter with food, he slips and falls, hurting himself again. It takes him four days to get out of the forest. and find a village. Bruised, beaten, bitten, hungry, sleep deprived, dirty, lonely, alone, broke and smelly, he tries to comfort himself. I am alive. I am still alive. I hate this world. I hate these people. But I am alive. I have not been born in the right time, in the right place, around the right people, but I am alive. And that means that I have the opportunity to make the right time, make the right place, create the right people. People that are decent to all people, a place where your burden is as much of a burden as mine is, where the right time to solve whatever problem we have is now… Austrulf tells himself. Fancy seeing you here muttering to yourself, says the loud man with a big smile on his face. Before Austrulf even gets the chance to raise his head, the loud man bashes his head with an axe. You can’t just complain and expect people to change. And you dared call me a coward, when you couldn’t even face reality… says the loud man.

Dragons, Blood and Gold Part I

Long time ago, as it was, and it was told dragons ruled the earth… This is their story.

A shadow appears on earth, moving fast, people run to take shelter. A gust of wind follows the giant shadow as houses shake, roofs of straws and wood come off as dust fills the air. The sun clouded by the dust. A roar vibrates the dust as a giant rumble shakes the earth as the dragon lands. An explosion clears the dust as a barrel explodes as the dragon breathes fires and starts torching the houses. The sound of screaming people echoes as they are being burnt alive. As every house, every building, every single person is burnt, the dragon huffs and puffs, smoke fills the air covering the sun completely. I have told you this day would come. You lazy, entitled, puny little critters wanted it all! Yet you could not work! You could not mine! You could not saves your skins even though your lives depended on it! The dragon shouts as the fire rages around him. All you had to do is mine the gold, get the the precious stones and gems. And what did you do? You lazed around, you lied to me about everything! You tried to keep it for yourselves! When we had a deal which you do not betray! We keep you safe from any danger at any time, and you, worms, provide us with gold, precious stones and work them for us. And now look at you… Burning… Screaming… In agony… And for what? Your arrogance? You thought you’d outwit us? You just could not listen! Shouts the dragon as no one is left to listen before taking off. The flames whirlwind, the smoke clears as the dragon flies off, before covering the sun up again. As the flames crackle, the smoke thins and buildings crumble, in its wake only ruble and charred bodies are left behind.

Hours passed, the sun started to set as the flames died out and from the rubble a noise is heard. From inside a well a man climbs out. He looks around and starts moving from house to house, moving rubble trying to find the doors in the floors. Stone by stone, charred wood moved piece by piece carefully as to not burn himself. With the smell of burnt skin with the ash the flowed through the air, he felt nauseated as he tried to move things around. At last, he finds the first door. He knocks on it. No answer. He moves to the next house. Finds the door in the floor. Knocks on it. No answer. As he passes the charred bodies he can’t help think that no one that remained in the village survived. He goes to a third house. He knocks on the door in the floors. An answer. As the doors open slowly before thumping down hard, another man with a sweat on his brow and soot on his hands smiles at the man from the well. They embrace. Brother, Austrulf! The man from the well shouts. Brother, Baldbert! he responds as they now shake hands. Uncle, a little girl exclaims as he hugs the man’s leg. Ingrid! Austrulf exclaims with a smile on his face. Austrulf, a woman sighs of relief from behind the two men. Arngilde, glad to see you are all safe and sound, says Austrulf. How did you manage not to get yourself killed? asks Baldbert. Luckily no stones fell into the well and the water kept me alive, explains Austrulf. Which houses have you been to? asks Baldbert. This is the third one, I went to old Ulbert, but no one answered. And then to the Waldbert, no answer. Every building seems to have collapsed, so clearing out paths has been quite the difficult taks, says Austrulf. Let me help you, says Baldbert. You two, stay safe, in case the dragon comes back, be ready to get down in the basement, he continued.

Power, gold and precious gems, the dragons have it all and we can’t have it, says Baldbert as they clean the neighboring house of debris. But luck with you and your idea to build these shelters inside, exactly for this day, he finished his thought out loud. This is no luck. After Waldbert and his family moved here and told us their story. It was only a matter of time until it happened to us, says Austrulf. Yet not everyone listened, said Baldbert as he raised a stone to find a set of doors on the floor. He knocks. No answer. These dragons, they come, they demand, we either deliver or they kill us, says Baldbert angrily as the leave the house to move onto the next one. Remember when grandpapi used to tell us stories from before the dragons care of our ilk? Before the gold? Before the stones? asks Austrulf. Grandpa Steinhard, he built this village stone by stone… Simpler times, says Baldbert as they enter another house. Back then the only real threat to us was another human, a wolf or a bear. And even then villages like ours never saw this level of destruction, says Austrulf. If we could only do something other than hiding, says Baldbert. What can you do when a baby dragon is already the size of a house and a half? asks Austrulf. Grandpa Steinhard talked once about killing a dragon, says Baldbert. Those are just stories, they were legends. Just like the legends of the people taming and riding dragons. These creatures are as old as the world itself. They were born from molten lava and pure fire. That’s why they all have those amber eyes and fire that melts stones and turns sand into glass. Luckily, they never use their fire enough to do that often. Yet still, you saw, you can’t underestimate these creatures. They’ve enslaved people, they corrupted people with their power into taking their side. Who knows who here was a spy, says Austrulf. Don’t speak like that, not now, at least. Let’s find everyone first, and then we’ll try to figure out what happened, says Baldbert as they continue to clear houses.

The story will continue….

The Quill

No, this isn’t a new short story for the Pilot Program, this is a weekly podcast surrounding the life story of my grandfather, Jon. Born before the start of World War 2, having to have his childhood traumatized by it and the horrors of war, trying to survive through the toughest of conditions. This, is the beginning of the story for The Quill Podcast. This first season takes a first good look at a war torn Transylvania that was given to the Hungarians by Nazi Germany and Italy, which meant carnage and tragedy for the Romanians in the Region. But, that doesn’t mean that Romanians weren’t persecuting Hungarians in their territories. It was war, nonetheless.

Jon is trying to figure out who is on his side and who is trying to harm him and his family. As a child he has to adapt, to fend for himself, whether it was food, clean water, fruits, vegetables or bread. He had to learn to tend to a whole household, animals and fields, and find a way to survive his childhood on the fields near one of the biggest cities in Transylvania. Six sisters and brother, one mother alone on her own, living the best life in the nightmare of the war in a territory filled with tragedy and tensions between the nationalities living there. Trying to survive, trying to live another die, with the hope that they just might hold out and see the end of the war.

The podcast takes place over six precise seasons. Everything is based on the stories I have heard over the years from my grandfather when he lived and facts found through history books and through research online. Each season is going to be 12 episodes, with a break for a few weeks between each episode. The Quill podcast is LIVE every Thursday on https://www.twitch.tv/authorraulfo if you want to witness the story live. Even though the podcast is based in real stories and facts, most of it is improvised on the spot, so the narrative story might take sudden unexpected turns. The podcast is both in audio and video format, there are actual historical videos attached to this podcast that showcases the events of the years portrayed, something extra after you’ve listened to it.

You can find The Quill Podcast in video form archived on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/RaulFO

If you want to listen to it, you can find it here: The Quill Podcast on Raul F. O. or anywhere else you can listen to podcasts to. Including: Spotify, Google podcasts, Apple Podcasts, Himalaya, Radio Public, Breaker and many more to come.

Hope you enjoy the story, because I certainly do love exploring history and finding interesting stuff out together with you all.

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Pilot Program - Falling Tower

T’s a Wednesday morning ‘ere, after the Lady Day, and I’m here to do justice. ‘Cause I ‘member it clearly the previous Sunday, ‘cause I, Walter of Ardene, an ma wife carried him to the St. Michael’s lane, ‘here we sat him down, stood all night with ‘im. These here folk need to know what Walter of Benington and his posse did. Y’all didn’t come ‘ere from three neighboring wards just for a walk. T’was them there at the alehouse of Gilbert of Morden where they’d come to drink four gallons of beer. They’d come with stones, knives, swords and other weapons, wanting to kidnap poor Emma. That girl already lost ‘er father Robert Pourte and Gilbert took her under his protection. But now these folk wanted to kidnap and rape ‘er? From what my wife Christina told me after, Mabel, his wife and Geoffrey, his brewer had asked them to leave. And they told ‘em that’d remain to spend they money however they like, welcome or unwelcome, t’s a public space.

Now, this is where the trouble started, from what I understand. Mabel then Emma upstairs, then Walter of Benington and his friends started getting frustrated and angry. They started creating commotion, assaulted people living in that there house and Robert and Geoffrey too. T’as a mess, you can only imagine what eighteen of them armed people can do to a place like that on a Sunday, where everyone just sitting in piece drinking after church. I mean on the Lord’s day to do that there? Shame. Shame, I tell you. Somehow they struck Robert on the head with stones in all that commotion. ‘ere’s where we came in, ‘cause Robert fled into High Streen raisin’ the hue, crying, screaming with Walter racing after ‘im with a knife and a stiletto in his hands, tryin’ to kill the poor bastard. Benedict de Warde and some other neighbors got ‘here first, tryin’ to calm ‘em down, but you already know that this ain’t the end. Cause Walter chased after Benedict tryin’ to kill ‘im too, the mad lad lost it at that point. So you know, Benedict was bare handed, he had to find something to defend himself with, so he took some ballstave thing from a stranger and he laid one onto Walter so hard that the bastard fell down to the ground at the entrance of the lane. Once Walter was down, it was quite easy to get the rest of them to calm down. So me and my wife carried Walter the next day after he laid by St. Michael’s lane to the house of Geoffrey’s house, where the died instantly. Now, here’s the thing, I don’t know how he died there, ‘cause I went out to wash my hands of blood. But, at least I can say that at least no one was raped, abducted or killed, I mean, besides Walter here. But the again he started it.

Benedict de Warde was later found guilty and to be arrested, yet he had fled, nowhere to be found.

Falling Tower is a short story series based on real life events that have been document and verified. So if you want to, you can verify the events that happened here. Falling Tower is the last short story for 2019 part of the Pilot Program. But, since this is part of the Pilot Program that means, that if you want more… Read it, re-read it, share it, like it, comment and print it and send me pictures with people reading it, then burn that piece of paper so you don’t commit copyright theft.

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Pilot Program - Coma,

Time: 10:58:01

Man, I have this headache and my neck is so damn stiff. I don’t know why my body is shaking, maybe it’s the cold that comes with the May mornings. Oh, don’t worry about it, maybe you just slept in a weird position. It happens, you’ll get better once we start running. Let’s go. Ah, yeah, I think I zoned out and forgot why I’m even here. As I raise my head from the ground the shining light blinds me for a second, then the blue of the sky seemed to have opened up. A gust of wind hit us from behind as we started running, as we gained speed, as our hearts started pumping, and our bodies sweating, the wind changed direction, now hitting us with a nice cold breeze to cool us off as the sun was glistening on our skin.

Do you have any family? That’s weird. What do you mean? Why are you asking me this? Nevermind, maybe I misunderstood. What did you say? Ah, so I did misunderstand. Nothing, I just didn’t understand what you asked me. He is chuckling, weird. Do you have a girlfriend? Are my ears deceiving me? What did you just ask me? You know I do. He seems out of it. Sorry, I’m a mess. Oh, I was right. You okay? What happened? He looks perturbed by something. Yeah not really. I’m scared scared I’m losing you. What? Losing me? What are you talking about? He turned and smiled at me. You know… Life happens sometimes and you can’t control it and you just drift apart or life ends and you never get to… You know… What is he talking about? No, no I don’t know. You okay? He chuckles again. Heh, don’t worry about it, I’ll get better, some day. That’s just weird, coming from a guy like him.

Something is different. Man, I could run forever. He started laughing. No one is stopping you, you know? This is all you, man. Run as much as you want, this world belongs to you. Sweat is getting in my eyes, the wind stopped, the heat is suffocating a bit. What time is it? I can’t even read the time on my watch. It’s 10:58. Already? Good thing it’s the weekend. Let’s head back. He is smiling. Didn’t you just say you could run forever? I did, didn’t I? I know what I said, it’s just getting too hot and this heat makes me feel like I’m suffocating. He stops, turns around, puts a hand on my shoulder. Okay, fine. But let’s do this again, it’s one of the last fun things I’m doing lately, and I need it… I need you. Out of reflex I smiled. Sure, see you tomorrow then? His face seemed to have turned ashy. Yes. He ran. I stayed behind as he faded in the distance.

Time: 10:58:02

This is the sixth entry in the Pilot Program. So, remember, if you want to read more, if you want to read more, share it, like it, comment, re-read it and it might become the next 52 week story, the one for 2020.

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Pilot Program - The Spiteful Playwright

“Stories, we all have them. As humans, we’re all social creatures, no matter how much we don’t like to admit it. That’s why we sometimes act out, that’s why being rejected hurts us and why being lonely is depressing and frustrating. And stories, are the one thing that we all like. We all tell each other stories, whether we think them, tell them or write them, we always tell stories. Big, small, happy, tragic, stories are what bind us, helps us understand each other.”

The phone rang, it was her again, I picked up more out of a sense of shame for denying them once too many times. Hello? She didn’t wait for me to finish the greeting as she went on her tirade. Hey, you finally picked up, look… Here’s the deal, I’m with a theater troupe at a coffee right now. I know one of the actresses here and the guy that runs this whole deal. So, as the conversation progressed, I asked them what they were performing and doing in town and stuff like that, right? Yeah, so listen here, they told me that they want to try something new, something different, right? So guess who I thought about? Yeah, Mr. Author, it’s you. I thought about you and your books. I remember that you once told me that you’d want your books turned into a theater piece and that you’d want it as an audio book but you’d need a theater group. So guess what? I told them about your books, what you’d like to do and what you’re about and how you approach things and what your outlook on the world is and they’d want to talk to you about it. What do you say? Isn’t that amazing? You’ll have to treat me to something, of course I’ll bring my mon cher with me and you, your girl. She sometimes talks like a Shinkansen and you feel like that train hit you and shattered your brains to pieces. This is the motherly awesome Kris, she awesome, but erratic. Anyway, here’s the guy I was telling you about that runs this whole troupe, his name is Andrew by the way. Here… Hey, guy. I’m Andrew, I heard a lot about you from Kris. So you wrote a book? Usually when people ask me that, they either want to clarify things or they’re curious how I’ll respond. Hey, nice to meet you, I wrote like four that are in that style and could be easily turned into plays. I am really curious what he has in mind. Look, we can’t pay you much, but if you want we can give you like a 10% if you’re interested, just so we get this out of the way. And you can even direct it yourself, if you feel like it. That was really odd. So, you don’t want to read them or anything like that? He started laughing. Kris here convinced me, so if you want, we can meet tomorrow if you’re free and discuss the details and what you’d like and what we can offer. Well, they can’t pay me, cause of course they can’t, no one really gives a shit about this, unless you’re a big shot. Fuck it, why not. Yeah, tomorrow sounds great. See you at the statue downtown, next to the bell then. He responded with a sure and that ended the phone call. Well, that’s not how I imagined this would go today. But I’m going to have some fun with this.

This is the fifth of the short stories for the Pilot Program. How does it work? You read the short stories within the pilot program, you re-read them, share them, like them, comment if you like them, force your friends to read them and then maybe this will become the short story series for 2020.

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Attropolis XVIII

Olanus grew tired as the night went on, Alicaria was still hurting, yet they didn’t give up. At his wits end, he reached out to someone he knew had experience in the domain, a friend of his that was a little on the sociopathic side due to his intelligence, Homes. He entered limping a bit, not even waiting for them to ask what happened to him, he told them how he was trying an experiment, so he’d jumped from the roof of a house to see if it would really kill someone. With one look he had Alicaria all figured out, with one listen to the story they had told him, he already knew who the culprit was. He was never wrong, which is why no one doubted him and his skills.

From what you told me there were four men, right? But… here’s my question, why four? Why not more? That’s my question… I wonder, honestly. I mean, it’s clear that this isn’t the whole story, whoever did this… This isn’t their first time. And not the last that’s for sure. I know it, in fact. He stopped for a second, Olanus opened his mouth trying to speak, but… You know, I don’t know why you chose these four, but you might be a genius. Because I think, that the culprit is one of those four. Without any luck… Look, you’re a friend and you’ve helped me tons before, with stuff. He said looking at her, but with his arm on his shoulder.

Let me tell you why I think what I think and how I came to the conclusion I came to, okay? The first man, the oldest of them all, cute, serene but intelligent, which might be dangerous. Never underestimate the intelligence of a man or base yourself on the appearance of one. Trust me, I’m never wrong. Until now, let’s see… The second one is weird, I don’t like him for some reason, he creeps me out, even from this neighboring room. He is too clean for his own good, he might be hiding something behind all that, dangerous. The third one is innocent, no doubt about it. The fourth one is… The most dangerous of them all. She was shocked to hear that. But there is no doubt he has something to do with this.

Olanus frustrated, angry and tired screamed “ENOUGH” at Homes, telling him to get to the point. Flustered but not shaken, Homes continued. Okay, fine. Between the second guy and the fourth one, probably. The second one is hiding something, that’s for sure and you should look into him, because this might have been a mistake on his part. The fourth one is s simpleton with enough power to kill, especially a poor child, so he might have not meant it. If you want to know my take, it’s the fourth one. She jumped out and up of the chair saying that it can’t be true. Olanus intervened telling her to calm down and trust him, because he was never wrong. He continued telling her that they have to put forth an example in the memory of Julius, because he deserved justice. She started crying on the floor as she agreed to it.

Thus they entered the room with the four religious people were waiting. Angry Olanus with the sword pulled, knowing that the fourth one might actually put up a good fight, ran towards him sword up, hitting the neck of the fourth guy over and over and over again. As his thick neck and strong spinal cord weren’t giving in. Blood squirting everywhere as the guy was screaming and as Olanus was hitting his neck over and over and over again, until it slashed through his vertebrae taking his head clean off his neck. Ending the nightmare of the day they’ve been having.

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Attropolis XVII

Hippos with a baffled look on his face, in the arms of this giant with blue eyes, he almost forgot about the death of his parents. She didn’t even think to try and stop him or hold onto him, for once she was scared. He look at Hippos and asked what the deal with him was, someone told him about what just happened and why he was here, to which he smiled, look at him and said that he’s going to take the boy with him. She started panicking, so she pulled on the giant. With a stern look he looked down upon her, the little girl kept gesturing at him and at herself, but wasn’t able to speak properly. He didn’t know how to respond, so he turned to leave, and so she started crying and relieving herself. Seeing that, Hippos pushed him and jumped down from his arms, running to her, holding her in his arms and whispering something to her. Her crying stopped, he turned around and went back to the giant. She waved at him, he waved back at her and went on different paths.

The soldiers confused asked him why he took the kids, he with a laugh answered that he simply recognized something in the boy’s eyes, something he hasn’t seen in years, maybe reminding him of a younger version of someone he once knew. Hippos was listening carefully to what the men were talking, trying to pick up on clues and gain any advantage, but with no luck, he was under the care of a giant that always smiled when looking at Hippos. This scared him, it was unsettling, seeing someone with such a scar on his face smiling towards a child like he was. Nothing about him seemed gentle, the hands of the giant had calluses, blisters on his feet, mud everywhere on him, a bloody sword and a deep voice that could shatter the earth and his ears.

They each went their way, Hippos was now on the way to his new home, it was quieter now that it was just the two of them. He still didn’t understand why this giant would care for him or take him, now having doubts about what was next for him and his future. Parent-less, lover-less on his way to the unknown with a someone that looked like he fell out of the side of a mountain. This was the first night Hippos spent awake, the adrenaline started to wear off, he was getting sleepy. The man took Hippos in his arms, as the sun was coloring the skies orange, yellow and all shades of blue and purple, they arrived at his house. A modest little house at the edge of the city, on a bit of a hill from which you could see the roof of every house in Creetus and at the end, the sea. What a long day comes to an end with both of them falling asleep the moment they enter the house and sit on the bed. All muddy, dirty and still wet from the thunderstorm…

And in Rome

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Attropolis XVI

CAUTION: ATTROPOLIS CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE, SEXUAL CONTENT, DISTURBING IMAGES AND IMMORAL GROTESQUE BEHAVIOR. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Man 3: The third man finally stood up on his one good foot… Teeth and gums rotten just like his other leg. He smelled like the intestines of a cow, he looked worse than a half eaten cat. Yet, he too, was soft spoken. A man of few words, Olanus was already tired of having to deal with these religious men, yet he was calm, the devotion he had for justice was almost incomparable in the empire. So, he continued interrogating the man. Barely moving his right eye, he looked at him and answered his questions as well as he could, being deaf in one ear at his age was impeding him.

The door opened, Alicaria entered the room, to his surprise, went close to the four men, took a good look at them, then made her way towards a chair next to him. As she sat, Olanus moved onto the fourth man.

Man 4: A younger rounder man, black between the toes of his feet. A few black highlights spread over his head, thinking he might trick people into thinking that he has hair. He was fidgety, swearing like it was raining indoors, yet his speech was dragging and slow. Spitting left and right as he was trying to put thought to word through his fat cheeks and fatter lips. As the interrogation went on, the more and more Olanus had the urge to strangle him and rip his throat through his asshole. Having her there helped him get through it all…

He had the men held up in that room, as they went outside to discuss the situation and debrief her into the information he gathered from them. Yet there was no news about the fifth men, which only fueled his anger and frustration. Thus he started relying the information, saying: The first man seems a bit too old and scrawny in my opinion. Then there’s the fact that he said he taking care of his animals all day, feeding them, stalking up and getting ready for the congregation. Helping those that can’t feed themselves… He looked at her and asked if she knew him. She shook her head, signaling no. Thinking that he may not tell her about him, he moved on: The second one was odd, he looks like he is impervious to everything and anything. A bit too holy, a bit too suspicious. He said he went through there, but not your place specifically, as he had some errands to run and had talked to some folk on the streets. He again looked at her and asked if she knew him… She surprised like being woken from a dream, nods and tells him about seeing him two or thrice a day around, in the rare days she spends her time at home morning to evening.

The third man is disgusting, and looks like someone that could harm people. Said Olanus scratching his head, as he was walking frustrated around the room. She responded by saying that he rarely saw the man around, but he did see him. She also heard about his story, The man behind the legends, supposedly he was known to have fought the boar infestation twenty years prior, thus leading to the poor state he was in now. Olanus was shocked, as he too heard those stories about that man when he was but a boy.

Then there’s this forth man… Olanus said frustrated, exclaiming He is too stupid to have done anything. She couldn’t help herself but laugh at him and his outburst. I know him, she said. We’re roughly the same age, grew up together, he was always this way. He comes by once in a while to chat and to talk to me. Nothing more, he’s like a little brother. They were nowhere closer to solving the mystery of what happened to poor Juliusegos de la Capital… And so, his tragedy lives on…

In Creetus….

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Pilot Program - I Write Sins Not Tragedies

Dreams, the type of stuff that keeps you up all night. The thing that keeps your mind active even when you want to rest, cause your head feels like it’s about to explode due to it being overworked. What a fantastic way to get traumatized sometimes, you simply dream of the unexplainable and the unreasonable when you can’t move your body willingly, unless you wake up, of course. Like that one time…

Inside a big living room, everything seems shrouded in darkness except the life that the flickering fire was providing in the fireplace. The walls were red with gold wavy linings, it all looked expensive and exquisite. The brown hardwood floor had a shining polish, a big fluffy rug on the floor, upon it a small coffee table. Everything so clean, no speck of dust seemed to live anywhere around that room. Long burgundy drapes, flowing from along side the giant windows, it was a clear skies night outside. The big dark brown door opened. With fluffy black socks, skinny legs, in black panties with a white t-shirt on, she entered the room. Black straight hair a bit under her shoulder blades, long natural red nails, some black eyeliner, monolid eye shape and some gorgeous brown eyes, she smiled as she entered the room. I was on a brown leather couch, unable to get up. She seemed entertained by it all, giggling and looking like she just won the biggest jackpot. She signals me to get closer with a gesture of her hand and one finger. I feel pulled out from the couch by a mysterious force which I can’t control. I fly into her arms, she stars laughing as she grabs me in her arms and says: “Oh, I am so lucky to have you here, with me." I’m confused, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know her, I don’t know how I got there or how she is doing any of this. But here I am…

What can I do? What could I have done? As confused as I am, as good it feels to be held by her, a warm embrace filled with love. At peace, I give in, I hug her back. Yet something still doesn’t feel right, or at least that’s what I was thinking. A small push from her, I fly back onto the couch, on my back, I can’t move again. Slowly moving towards me, a big smile on her face she playfully winks at me. I start to get nervous, excited, I felt like I was shaking, though I couldn’t move. Once she got to me, she started touching my chest. I was wearing a white shirt, no tie and some black suit pants. She started kissing me passionately, I couldn’t stop her, nor did I want to at that point, somehow her spell wore off enough to the point where I could move my arms again…

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This is the forth of the Pilot Program short stories.n If you want to read more, like it, share it, read and re-read it and comment. And that way you’ll decide which of the short stories in the Pilot Program gets a 52 week run in 2020.