Days have turned into nights that then turned into dawns and days again countless times since I saw L'amore d'Agna. It was the truest form of love, the purest source of happiness, yet there are no evidence that it ever existed; all I know is based on observations and experience, not on the nowadays preferred written way. Thus, one could argue that rightfully so, people had been ignoring our preachings of l'amore, even though we were able to gather reports of sightings and testimonies throughout the lands from men and women unacquainted with one other, whose words are matching in content and in line with my own. They all told the tale as they had been going about their daily chores in the most ordinary fashion, l'amore had taken form in front of them and gave them the truth, which was always there, yet never seen before. And with this knowledge they changed their life, turning it into something better then it had ever been.
For me, it happened while I was preparing to leave my chambers and pick up my duties, when a white owl flew in and landed on the desk, standing on the letters that I had received a day prior, but not yet read. It looked down, then upon my self, hooted, as if it had just found the pray and was signing to its brethren to follow.
I can imagine how my words may sound, alike of a fool or a drunk who believed in their ill-born thoughts, but do not frown upon me, for these letters were bearing news most would never hear nor dare to think of, saying it is the word of the Serpent or the Goat. Alas, those words were of my Lang-forgotten Lady, whom we had all believed was lost at the darkest seas. If it as not for L'amore d'Agna, I would have had burned those letters, rendering my dearest memories no more than the weight of the ashes they would have eventually become.
In that very moment I have sworn to tell the tale and spread the word of the purest form of love and truest form of happiness, whatever the cost may be. And even now, I can smile and tell you, that you have failed, for I am here, telling the tale in front of the masses, while you are forced to practice silence until I end talking. You cannot stop me from finishing my work, because even after I die, men and women and children will recite my words, share this very moment on the stake, thus beginning a new age, nay, a new era, to which the generations shall remember as the day when the folk united against the suppressors of truth, which is that only L'amore d'Agna can give, but you have failed to provide.
it's been a while I've written a real one of these
not that anyone would read it
Even though I have only published a couple of short stories that are, quite frankly, most likely to be no more than "early tries", nowadays I fancy myself as a writer and as such, I look at the world in a different way than before. Of course, as you can see, I have written novellas (or "short stories" if we want to stick with English terminology), but they were...
I was playing with my cat after feeding her, when I felt a small breeze from behind. I did not think much of it, the windows were open on both sides of the room; must have been the wind outside, I thought, but my cat looked there and her eyes were fixated on something. I turned around, expecting nothing out of the ordinary, alas I saw a...
They were sleeping when the lights came through their window. They were not blessed with great wits or the gift of logical thinking. What they were given was great eyes instead: they had a condition called abnormal tetrachromacy, which meant that they had limited infrared-vision. When I learned about it from them I, as I have been always fascinated by colors and color deception, had to ask...
This is chronologically the first short story I publised in English, even if it wasn't the first I began writing.