Short story

[Upon Mars.]

The Following thread is about short-stories I have or am writing, three of which use swear-words. Otherwise the stories are written for an all-round audience. The stories due to format are likely to change, syntax and writing errors corrected. All of the stories are intended to have political, philosophical or/scientifical backgrounds, all of which are for the moment fictitious.

 

Have an interesting time reading.

 

 

-

I've been working on a two short stories project these last two days:

 

one with a bunch of deamon creatures called the Shed'im which spring up in today's middle east and seem to attack Western military forces without any motive whatsoever as it seems and an other one set in a world like Avernum, set in caves with monsters and dragons.

This plus work explains why I haven't been working on my geneforge project latley.

 

So to make amends (I hope) for this long wait here's a extract (the ending *Spoilers*) of the short story entitled Shed'im (which has and I warn you, some political resonnance) :

 

 

Like a dragon hungry for precious things, the Shed'im defended the oil fields with furious anger at those who would attempt to destroy them.

 

Like the West the Shed'im too had after all a need to lap oil into their great mouths, although their needs seemed at first modest unlike the West. Where drones missiles and helicopter had been a effective weapon against the Somalians, the Bedhu, both the Arabs and the Berber, the Afghans and the Pakistani, now seemed useless against these terrible griffin like creatures made of metal, which bore through aircrafts with fiery breath like jets of hot water thrown from above at paper planes.

Rocket fire and tanks seemed to stun them here and then, but once captured they simply destroyed the military bases in which they had been kept in and would regularly in retaliation sink with huge bolders costal Us warships.

 

On may 2014 a Shedu destroyed a israeli military base in Jordan, Efraim, near the Mughrabi Bridge to rescue one of it's own.

 

Word had been it had been that they were a terrible device invented by invading aliens, or the very cherubim with blades of flame sent by god to guard the garden of Eden or a secret weapon developed by Iran or to profit the Chinese because they where developing new strains of bio-fuels and other oil producing organisms which thrived both in deserts and salt water.

Nuclear strikes had been thought of, but the monsters did not invade western soil and preferred to stick by to the middle east.

 

In any rate the Shed'im where a reality that the West and the rest of the world had to live with: these monsters from bible myth dissuaded any more drastic military intervention from both the west and the east for a time, since no one knew when they would go to sleep again, but reduced dramatically the demand for middle eastern oil, the Shed'im patrolling above the oil fields, which stunted local and global economical growth, lead the USA to lead disastrous military campaigns in South America, and to the creation ten years later of a series of strong political alliances between Brazil, Venezuela and any country who had held Bolivar in high esteem.

People starved, countries collapsed, civil war broke in some parts of Europe, new forms of tyranny took over the west, especially in Europe, the world turned into an Marx brother's version of "Gattaca" without rockets being sent to touch the stars, and the UN in 2018 has finally declared that some "forms of human trafficking" such as "surrogacy by artificial insemination" are "a right to all" under the pressure of the Us, Russia, the Uk, China and France, but despite all this going on, on his deathbed, Frank still stood uncertain on whether or not things had truly changed:

 

The now 5th of November 2024 has come and Change is still the motto of the democratic party of the United States of America.

Edited January 27, 2014 by Upon Mars.

[Trenton.]

Trenton likes

 

Continue?

[Upon Mars.]

With pleasure, here's the beginning of the story:

 

Dear reader, my name is Almas Faris, and I have fought with the west for many years in the Gaza in 2001 strip or in Medina, or in Damascus when "they" where first to be seen, or yet again in Afghanistan in 2006, or in Syria against the Russians in 2012, or against the American soldiers when opened fire on me and my colleges in the province of Khost. I bear no ill will to the American people, although it known that many of their military, economy and politicians have caused great harm throughout the middle east.

 

I now live in Morocco. And the people have made me one of theirs; I can go unharmed into the markets and taste in a full bite those golden oranges Morocco is known for or cook some fish cut whole by the local fisherman. Sometimes I loose my self into the streets of Casablanca, and arrive in Dar Khalifa, without having my clothes stink with blood or the smell of ammonium sulphide in my lungs or the crackle of machine gun fire ringing in my head. Insomnia or flash-backs do not trouble me any more and I needn't stay days unwashed, culpable wearing the smell of urine, feet, sweat and cigarettes on my hands and trousers.

 

It all happened in Damascus. It was at the beginning of the year 2014. I know this because I had spent my time working in December at Medhina, where I spent hours eating alkum. You might also know how the date was important because it was when Frank Lamb, an undercover American soldier was tied up and threatened with death by a bunch of Syrian jihadists.

 

Obama was still president then and I had been taken in to fight against the Syrian regime. I had been in Damascus before, to fight the Russian troops who had concluded a pact with Assad's regime. My unit had been dismantled by Assad's men, but I managed to escape.

 

Things escalated pretty hard at the end of 2013 so I decided it was time to head back and help the Syrians during the purges of January 2014.

 

This is when things got worst.

 

An American soldier had crossed the border to Syria. It hadn’t been the only American lost in Syria during 2012-2015, a journalist James Foley had been abducted in 2012 at Aleppo. But this man was a soldier.

A group of Syrian rebels in order to push the Americans into Syria stole a careless soldier, tied him up and put him into their car.

 

Then I shot the driver when they arrived at Damascus.

 

I don't enjoy talking about what I did in Damascus, but at the time I hated some of the stupid behaviour exhibited by some of the rebels.

When one of them shot rounds at the locals because they believed that they had helped government forces, I did what I did.

 

When I had disposed of the bodies from the car from which the rebels had fired armour piercing rounds, I searched the car.

Opening the back of the car Frank Lamb fell out onto the hard dusty ground, attached and dizzy from both the heat the lack of water.

It had been a miracle that he survived and no one knew why he had been dragged here, although I personally suspect that the rebels didn't know as well.

 

This how I met the soldier held hostage and how he told me his story.

 

Frank hadn't always been a soldier. He had been a biologist student in the US studying clams and plants. When he got out of college, he got into more and more into debt, finding no job.

 

This was extremely difficult for his couple, and extremely so since he had discovered that he had been infertile.

 

"It seemed to be the lot of most people in the west" said he that people weren't either "interested or able in having children anymore".

 

"There no more future for us I guess".

 

It was from there that he tried a number of jobs from which he was fired, and then sank into deeper depression when he became a butcher.

 

From there he had tired to "meet" other women.

 

Then he stopped being a butcher and became a bin-man.

 

After two weeks of wondering how people could "continue living like this" producing so much trash and not "expecting that something would happen one day, he wanted to do something "really meaningful" like "serving his country" and "being a real man and learning about true fidelity".

 

This is how he became a private and how he got lost both depressed and drunk, wondering into Syrian terrain.

 

I for myself did not believe his story. I had thought that he was not what he had claimed to be, I could only see in him white westerner informer trying to get away with some valuable information.

 

And I was right.

 

The rest is going to be fully released on webs in two weeks or more.

 

Edit: a new short story about the Silmarillion has been released: all hail Angband! Sindarin songs are included.

Edited February 12, 2013 by Upon Mars.

[Upon Mars.]

Three "avernumesque" shorts stories on my site have been released on the net and here's one of them entitled δρaκεῖν:

 

"

 

A Konundrum folk-tale:

 

One day In the caves of Konundrum, it came to pass that while a mage going out collecting tar from a tar pit not very far from his home he had made nearby a lake, met a hunting drake, with only hunger in it's mind.

 

When it came upon him, the mage released a magic globe out from his mind which then spilled, forming hither a stink cloud.

 

Although surprised at this sudden and primitive display of pyrotechnics, the monster blew the cloud away with a clap of wings and caught what could have been it´s next meal, had the sorceror not placed a blade on the drake's neck.

 

When the mage had slipped, his coin bag spilled, leaving gold upon the floor, which hypnotised the reptile: for drakes, semi-precious stones, gold and precious things is the stone floor on which they lay their obsessive mating rituals.

 

Snaking his way out into a deal, the drake offered to spare the mage for the gold.

 

Thinking it had the advantage, the reptile agreed to the mage's proposition: the mage would surrender the gold in a tar figure.

 

The mage started building a thick tar figure with clay and the tar from the nearby lake and tar-pit and painted it gold with melted coins.

 

After leaving the dragon at a reasonable distance from both the statue and himself, the sorceror bolted shut his hut's iron door and hid below the solid stone floor of his house in a tunnel of his own construction.

 

The dragon attacked the house.

 

Finding no human remains in the pyre it made of the mage's hut, the enraged dragon proceeded to take tar statue. But the more it sank it's claws into it, the more it was glued to the clay. For all the drake's might and strength, the statue over-powered him. The mage bided his time and once the drake was too weak a foe he slowly and surely pulled our dragon into the waters of the lake, to drowning.

 

 

All flames, be it power or anger, succumbs to it´s own rage.

[Upon Mars.]

Two more stories have been released. Good reading.

 

Birds underground.

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/24784930-birds-underground

The drake and the tree.

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/24784911-the-drake-and-the-tree

[Upon Mars.]

New short story extract:

 

"Once upon a time lived a peasant, who had lived all his life working, praying and toiling the land of the lord of the land to which he belonged to. Opposite to the castle of the lord lied a forest black, inhabited it was said by wicked creatures, daemons, spirits of old and was filled with powerful magic which had never receded with the passing of man.

So our peasant lived a hard, tough life, toiling the ground, unconcerned about stories of witches, wolves and spirits save when it came down to listening to bedtime as a child or as a parent telling those stories, his heart in hand and love on his lips as he told about bogarts, sprites and dragons. A heart which broke in two as his land was torn apart by a wicked king, who's person under the form of statues of wood, stone or iron watched all over the country, their eyes ever opened. As with all kings who give themselves the chance to excesses, this king became a blight on the poor, a pig to women, a executioner to men and a terror amongst the young and old. Knights and merchants however, became richer and prospered as the people laid crushed by taxes, for the conquests were many and trade routes acquired quickly. Such wealth our peasant could never dream of having.

 

Life was hard enough before, pleasing lords, paying taxes, making things grow, being kind to animals which had to be killed for meat, banding with the other peasants against the occasional knight who had an itch for young girls and working in the fields under the heavy rain or the hot sun when disaster struck: though a time of plenty for those above him, hunger filled the land. So the peasant began to cry each and evrey day and unable to make himself beg for food, he began to scavenge. Unaware of his crime, for stealing became a crime in those times when the king became wicked, he had poached a single rabbit he had found under a pear tree at the edge of the dark enchanted woods.

 

When the knights came, they arrived with a rope and had no need of gibbets, for an oak's strong branch in the wild woods was one. Our peasant fled into the dreaded woods filled with monsters, chivalry trying to cut his running short through the thorn bushes.

 

It was not long before huge slabs of stone began to appear out from the huge bramble bushes and a clearing covered with tall healthy poplar trees began to appear. Covered all over with drawn figures of archers pursuing wildmen crowned with antlers and crossing their legs, the stones were so huge they made one with the dark treetops. It had seemed our peasant had entered another world, where spirits of the dead where kings, trees were gods, fire not yet discovered and the woods of old were once more filled with the very creatures which had bred in man, fear of the dark.

 

Then with a sudden sound of robes, a tall dark figure rose up in front of the peasant and his riding pursuers and it too had two great horns on it's head: "Who dares approach uninvited and unwanted?" said the host with a scream louder than that of human but yet painful whisper in tone. The knight jabbed back, horses bolting from all sides as arrows fired by learning children: "Go back to your forest fiend! And dabble back to your magical toys, the lad is ours, as are all men and to be brought back to face the justice of our lord. He has committed an offense before the community of christians through which the Holy Spirit makes word and action, thus an offense towards God. Make no attempt to intervene and no harm will come."

 

"If you are a man of law," said the dark changing figure, "you must know of the ancient border which separates my lands from those of your lord and emperor and the pact bought in blood with your ancestors with my kind. If not, know that any encroachment by armed humans is to meet certain death."

The knights drew out their swords.

 

"All death is certain." Replied the knights to the flickering black figure.

 

"Not to my kin." Replied the dragon."

 

 

 

more can be read here: http://members.webs.com/manageapp/blog/show/31957650-a-peasant-and-the-faerie

[Death Knight]

Upon Mars, you have a gift and should pursue writing in the future. Its not easy to get popular but you can if you try at it. I'm still doing research on finding the perfect genre for me. JK Rowlings is a good writer but most of what got her was that she found the right niche that works for her.

[Upon Mars.]

Well, thanks, really! When I was very young I was regularly told by very different teachers I could never do it, that I could never find my place and that I should forget about science or writing. So it's heart warming really

[Death Knight]

Whenever someone said that its all the more reason to go at it. I usually find its the most encouraging thing to help with that, although it shouldn't be. Writing's tough and music is too. I would say I should stick with music and write a comedy or children's story when it pleases me

[Upon Mars.]

Here's an extract of part 2:

"Two Formorians had been on the look out on a bridge. "Why can't we just go back home? Pack something and go into the wildest parts of Greece and hunt for a year and a half the last of the golden stags, the boars of the Thracian groves, wilder and more ferocious than lions or the rats of Crete large as dogs? Why must we stay here, clad in glamour, hiding, monsters amongst men? When was the day where we could posing not as humans but as what we are formorians giants and pick on a Faerie, until it went mad with fury and burned the woods and the countryside? Where are the talking fishes which granted wishes when you released them? The things of man have made them all disappear, their apples taste like grass, their corn makes my stomach ache and spear in bronze and sword in iron wards off our kind and kills the things of the river if they don't turn them blue with their tanners and soaking textiles. When will we depart? I herd that some have left for ever, some deep under ground..." The other look out groaned "Why can't we make preparations for the best and go live amongst humans, forget about it, live as they do, build amongst them and marry their kind? Is it so hard? We have done so for years and years before men came and made use of tools or fire? Now keep your eyes peeled we have a job to do." "**** this life and this job! Man is turning into a creature of day, worse than fire and has dealt with forces beyond it's comprehension, with him has feed the gorgon and the basilisk who turn his foes to bone and stone. He is now empty all in, forgotten the old gods and for what? Market-places? Roads? Boats? When will this stop? When will taste man-flesh in an age of iron and dogs-turned wolves?" "Will you please shut up! There's one of them coming!" said the other Formorian and with that a small contingent of armed men with a well protected chart tried to pass the bridge.3In the name of your Lord and master the King we have orders to let us pass." said a man big as a mountain. The Formorians looked at one an other and then one responded: "Gives us the orders. Do you have a royal seal?" The soldier descended from the cart with a ring of pure silver. "Aye here it is." "Good then" said the tall Formorian. And quick as a flash a raven caught the ring as the soldier revealed it. The company having lost the seal shrieked in anger, arrows being shot at the raven bird but none would catch or hurt. The small company moved and the Formorians dressed as soldier began to disperse. They went where most Formorians go: under a bridge. "

[BenjamminBrown]

That's actually not bad. Keep writing! I'd like to see you go big places!

[Upon Mars.]

I solemnly declare that the Faerie and a peasant story is finished: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/31957650-a-peasant-and-the-faerie

[Upon Mars.]

Some more stories on the site:

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/33724458-the-witch-of-tugly-wood

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/33050150-bartimaeus

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/33776868-lake-of-fire

 

Extract: "The young lad tugged his ear; "How can you mam, content me more? Is not a roof, food and wine on the table and a night in your bed more than enough for anyone?"" -the Witch of Tugly wood part 1.

[Death Knight]

The best short stories are usually the ones that can be "concise" and "unique" all in their own right. I wrote a number of comedy stories and out of them all only one Ive been told when in class was both unique and concise. Its interesting as you wish that all of your stories can be home runs. The funny thing is sometimes people like your stories that you don't favor as much. Thats when you really get surprised.

 

Oh and don't focus as much on grammar as on plot and story. You can put the finishing touches on that stuff later before you are done. I went to a site named Scribd which not only destroyed my morale but made it so I stopped writing for a year

[Upon Mars.]

You might like this story:

 

 

- -

 

A scorpion in a Russian doll :

the hazards of an over-production of consumables.

 

It was Christmas, music was in the air, when the house belonging to the Johns was strucked by tragedy! Whilst they were cleaning the table, the John's four year old girl left the kitchen. When the parents finished clearing the table and entered the living room, they found the small girl lying on the flour; she had opened her present, a russian doll, and was stung by the tiniest of yellow scorpions which had survived the flight from Indonesia, where the doll had been made.

 

@Copyright webs.

 

-

French translation:

 

Un scorpion dans une poupée russe:

les aléas de la production excessive de biens de consommation.

 

C'était Noël, la musique était dans l'air, lorsque la maison appartenants aux Tartempions fut frappé par la tragédie! Alors qu'on débarassait la table, la fille de quatre ans Tartempion se leva de table sans que nul ne regarda. Lorsque les parents eurent finit, ils se dirigèrent vers la pièce du salon, là où la fille fut trouvé étendue sur le sol; elle avait dépaqueté son cadeau, une poupée russe, et avait été piqué par un tout petit scorpion jaune, qui avait survécu au vol depuis l'Indonésie, là où la poupée avait été fabriqué.

[Upon Mars.]

Two more shorts are available and one is coming up:

 

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/34328143-guns

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/34330122-treasure

 

 

Treasure:

 

"Dear Leila, I'm very excited!

Twelve bags of spices, of forty five pounds each, twenty chickens, five cows, thirteen pigs, at least 1000 pounds of both wheat and hay, about 800 hundered pounds of flower, seven cakes, a hunderd pounds of sugar, two man sized bag of sea-salt, ten filled with fresh greens, four with fruit; golden apples, pears, apples, quince and a hat full of bright orange carrots! Medicine was even sent in three bags!

 

I am relieved that the guards did very well their work; none were shot from above and all of it was recuperated and distributed evenly amongst the new arrivals. The sugar and cakes were however kept and sent to the capital, in exchange for twice it's weight in gold. Wheat and hay will feed the cows, and soon pig roasts and bread shall be served to all, but I have made assurances that the guards will dine in silver dishes. It is a surprise for them.

 

Thank the spirits they did not send a horse, as it is hard enough already to kill the pigs when they come down here; the reason why cows and bulls survive down here is because of their stomachs, they can digest finer material than horses and donkeys, and don't destroy everything like goats and sheep and pigs.

 

I hope you are not too sick to travel. If you are I promise that when the sun goes down in three days, I will give you again the most tender love your lips deserve,

your husband and lover, Adam.

 

 

-Adam Smith, quartermaster and economist of fort Descent."

 

-Short stories, copyright webs.

[Upon Mars.]

Abe, monster killer: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/34330636-abraham

 

Missing "golden ball" at fort Konundrum: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/35274132-missing

 

Slugs, the bane of Konundrum: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/35396108-tyger-tyger-

 

Nox More a Duke in Hades: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/35400367-nox-more

[Upon Mars.]

New stories:

 

The rarest gem in all of Konundrum: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/35443707-books

Time enough at last: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/35471452-evernoon

The Yuwi spirits: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/35502121-quinkins

Roads: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/35835404-roads

Komunism in Konundrum: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/35861399-majnun

A green house in Konundrum: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/35998626-crystal-house

Plot holes: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/35849422-plot-holes

 

Extract:

 

"Captain Thomas Salamander of the royal guard and lord Benedict of Fort Flame are to be seized, stripped of all titles, and trailed for high treason. Trent of Arcadia is to be trailed for heresy. Duke Derna is to replace Benedict of fort Flame in his absence. Cordelia of Fort Saphic is to be stripped of all titles and trailed for treason and conspiracy. Adam Smith of Fort Descent and Clement of fort Sanctum Sanctorum is summoned to court. Chen, Mayor of Metron is to be trailed for conspiracy. Sage Lewin of Castle Konundrum, Yohsua preacher of Cain and Bennet are to be trailed for heresy and seduction of the innocent. Nox More duke of Phlegethon is summoned to court. Mayor Yusuf of lake Crystal is to replace duke Phlegethon in his functions, should he refuse he will be issued a royal warrant. Moroght of Teife is to be trailed for high treason, heresy and conspiracy, and captain Sammuel is to replace him in his stead. Jeff Keith is to be kept indoors and constrained to his chambers at all times. Caius Brutus is to be trailed for conspiracy and arson. Minister Jaffrey is to be trailed for high treason. For now general Hamet is to take office as captain of the royal guard and Captain Edward Pebble to take maters of state in hand. Konundrum is in a state of martial law."

 

-Chewyn, crown of Konundrum at Castle Konundrum, royal decree. Bright twenty of the year six hundred and forty five.

[Upon Mars.]

New fragments:

 

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/36675464-frair-rat

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/36900842-boats

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/36009310-where-arte-thou-

 

"Where are the heroes of old? The slayers of monsters, the keepers of the peace, the discoverers of treasures and of people unknown?

Where have they fled? They have left the countryside, the prairies, the forests and the cities. Their hounds have grow old and weary and die before their masters' return. They had once been pups big enough to scrute their parents hunting wild deer and pigs, when their masters went to battle in war, to adventures and encor. They have taken their hawks, their horses and echanted helms with them, their gold, their bow, arrow, wheat, the trees and the light of the sun. Their heavy armour has rusted away. The knight' shield, the javelin and kopis blade aside have now been laid. Where the hoofs once sparked with fury and might there is only the ring of a thunder without light. It a place blown away by the winds, a feasting halls emptied and forgotten on a whim. Even the spirits have left the temples to counsel and aid elsewhere, the ancient practices of election are held in check in a world smaller turned. The tower of the king skywards grows, the wizards practice their arts in open sight and dragons have bred, growing fat, slow and strong whislt digging themselves deeper underground, oh where arte thou? You once so bold, have now slipped into night as if you have never been."

 

-Damian Deane, writer in Konundrum.

 

In the memory of death kight.

[Upon Mars.]

New fragment is released: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/38019522-cities

[Upon Mars.]

Konundrum's biologists are not so different from ours: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40108533-brain-and-cell-specialization-

Historical facts around Lord Clement: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40137168-lord-clement

A brigand tries to rob the king: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40145591-heaven-stone

State recompense to a prostitute: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/36810562-katy-carren

[Upon Mars.]

New entries:

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40165295-descent

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40225145-monsters

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40226848-death-penalty

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40251735-enhanced-interrogation-techniques

 

 

Katy Carren was given more background: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/36810562-katy-carren

[Upon Mars.]

Two Konundrite letters and a story have been received:

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40506142-georges-the-epach

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40507819-magicians

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40513084-danel-the-hunter

[Upon Mars.]

Konundrum myths and stories:

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40663354-konundrite-myths

 

Frair rat story has been edited: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/36675464-frair-possum

[Upon Mars.]

More letters about the Hidden:

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40787573-angakut

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/40782465-kivigtok-

[Upon Mars.]

Repharite is a science fiction short story in 28 entries, about a lunar psychologist trying to outsmart two killers while suffering from a heart condition : http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/41016204-day-1

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/41096096-entry-2

 

Blind warriors:

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/41148415-blind-deaf-and-dumb

[Upon Mars.]

Unknown logs in repharite: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/41343631-unknown-entry-

 

 

Entry 3 is in full text in english for the moment being: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/41380079-entry-3

 

Warning "graphic" scene:

Entry 4 is in full text in french for the moment being: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/41381420-entry-4

 

Warning coarse language.

Project Repharite: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/41392932-unknown-log-4

 

Entry 5: http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/41440494-entry-5

 

Full text in english bellow:

 

"We've left two probes in the bunker. Debhora is helping me to carry the bodies and fill the body bags found in the infirmary. We're leaving the bunker. We seize on of the selenite vehicules and gently place Allya, Benjamin, Colsin, Tori and Miles inside. I never saw a body before. Everything about death is so opaque, so clinical, so blurry, so clinical. A nice neat, clean process. But it´s not. It smells... She used to smell violets. She had a bottle of perphume in her trowsers. The shirt smelt like violets. Now there is nothing but the reek of death upon the clothings of a ghost [...] we cleaned evrey inch of them. Lü did an autopsy and confirmed the method by which they were all strucked dead. The head injury. We have placed them, resting and pale [...] Lucie if you hear me... I love you. Tell my parents I'm comming back as soon as possible and that I will walk the dog as I did when I shared with them the same roof. Tell them I love them and [...] over and out." -David

[Upon Mars.]

Sensitive material ahead:

 

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/41883500-united-93-flight

 

[Upon Mars.]

Short entry on disney:

 

"I don't usually talk about how mother got fired from Disney. Or how toons and animators got thrown out from Montreuil's studio Brizzy, having to work as animators somewhere else. My mother did camera work on films like Babar,or the goofy movie to the famous scene where Tarzan tree slides. She worked also on films as spohisticated as the hunchback of nôtre dame, hercules, brother bear and more. She was taught and trained by the polac animator Pépé Guy, who was the artistic director on esisentein's Ivan the terrible and moved on to work with the young michel Gondry, who used to date Télé Hachette's directrice. After father got sick she continued working at the Brizzy studios in Montreuil which was bought and later scrapped by Disney. Roy Disney resigned when the descision was made by mr Isner. Pixar moved into the frame thenafter. The mariage between the compagny founded by Goerge Lucas and the fairy tale multi-national corporation is now a solid one, films and animators working on short and long feature films with umbrellas or flying paper planes. But the toons and people who were put out of a job by Disney are not there anymore. The imprimerie at Montreil is overunn by metal brair and empty of people like Etienne, Mary, the Adams, Bruno, Pierre, Christophe and many others. Mickey mouse is being framed in India or in Korea, a so called cheaper alternative to employing a fully trained équipe of proffesional computer-trained and dedicated artists. Goofy, mickey, Donald and Miney all actors of Disney do not voice out our cries. Juan 'Guardino', the famous cat détective, smokes a cigarette, content that his work has stopped there at Disney and enjoys a beer at Angoulème. The toons of Brackenwood are brand new, boiled and dried out from chemical vats, because Adam Phillips had the oportunity to leave the now closed Sydney Disney Studios.

 

 

 

I sometimes meet old maleficient who brews there in her stormy mountain fortress as she scorns and ponders over the world, not having been invited at the great Disney banquet. I occasionly look at the recent disney and Pixar films with the same look on my face, the pride of my family broken and wondering how my life could have been had the studios not shut down. Toons equally anxious. Sprites have left their two dimension homes for places such as Desura games, playing wizardry with Dominions 3 and 4 or sit gloomy before tumblr and Facebook; Alice of wonderland all grown up has died her hair black, pierced her tits and wearing tattos, works online. Alice sometimes stop working and looks over betty boop, who puffing on weed, remembers better times. Their neighbour, Little Nemo, now all grown up, is all melancholy in his heart while Brair Rabbit struggles with the tar baby of daily living and earning money in a jobless world. The king and the bird have retreated from this world into an other. Brock Samson and the Venture Brothers mock the dreams of old and those of today's. Buzzard from men in black, Roger Rabbit, Tex Avery's glutton cat and Dumbo discuss the future with J.c Denton, Old Mortrax, last of the five dragons of Avernum, Commander Vibus of Nethergate, Melko, Valar of Angband and James from Silent hill. Even the concombre masqué has given up hope. The pencil drawn and stop motion animation era is over. Harryhausen and Disney have died and the people working for them vanished without a say."

 

- http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/42016720-why-so-melancholy-prince-phillip-

[Upon Mars.]

Hi everyone, there has been a substantial rewrite of some of the material on http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/ , Repharite in peculiar. Three new entries were written down "entry 7", "8" and "9":

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/42599611-entry-7

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/42601907-entry-8

http://shortsstories.webs.com/apps/blog/show/42603624-entry-9