logo
Previous Thread
Next Thread
Print Thread
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
Newbie
OP Offline
Newbie
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
Topic Science Fiction is the first SF waving magazin in the world wich is posted in the forums of the digital ocean. Come here and publish your work!
Topic Science Fiction/BELLAONLINE EDITION is the first english version. Topic Science Fiction is a project of Romanian SF writers.
Welcome!

Sponsored Post Advertisement
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
Newbie
OP Offline
Newbie
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
Because
short story by
Ovidiu Bufnila

While on Terraria planet the Time Gates were opening,
Atlanticus Ocean was throwing, on its hot beaches, glassy
corpses, rusty airplanes, broken gramophones, flattened
refrigerators, yellowed diaries, swollen books of too much
humidity, broken statues, hollow pots, washing machines made
like balls, shabby sport shoes, condoms teared to rags,
shrivelled box gloves, off-colour electoral posters, cracked
casks and many other things that made the Terrarians run
after, from morning till evening, very curious and
frightened. Sometimes, the magnetic fields being devastated,
from that whole mixture of crushed and twisted forms were
born varied creatures which were giving much trouble to
everybody.

Some of them were stupid, other were extremely intelligent.
They seemed to be undestroyable, so the world started to
tolerate them, to avoid them or just to ignore them. Nobody
was wondering when, in the morning, through the mauve haze,
a silver bike with lilac wings and a crocodile head which
was yelling to some hurried passer-by, was whizzing in the
air:

�Hey, man, what time is it?!�

Many Terrarians had made a mad passion for the music
instruments discovered through the sand dunes. They were
fighting hardly and, sometimes, just for being the only
owners of a violoncello or of a harmonica.

The shop-windows from Monte Carlito, one of the most
confused little towns from Terraria, were full of fairy
lightened aquariums where multicoloured glassy corpses were
floating. They were well packed and they were wearing
phosphorescent labels where you one could see exorbitant
prices. There was an exciting rumour that, if you transfered
your energetic foundation in one of those corpses, you could
find out interesting things about the little planet Terra
which was placed on the other side of the Time Gates.

Moreover, they said one could became immortal.

This crazy thought hovered for some time a policeman from
Monte Carlito, a big and fat guy, named Mallory. His shiny
badge had the 1000 order number. There were so many
policemen who were always patrolling along the little city,
ready to shoot a thief�s skull.

The criminality and the prostitution were in bloom because
Monte Carlito was changing its geographic position due to
the temporal whirlwinds, travelling along the beaches of
Atlanticus Ocean. That made its inhabitants very melancholic
or too violent. One could frequently see some Terrarian
teared to pieces with the axe or ears and eyes hung on the
semaphores from the intersections, on the street.

Since he has been working in Octopus, the most dangerous
neighbourhood, Mallory decided to change the world, to
fulfil the Good. He was making sermons and sermons to the
little whores and to the gays.

Under the threat of his silver revolver, the pickpockets had
to learn by heart verses from a bible which Mallory found
one day on the ocean shore. Even though the bible had many
teared pages and it turned yellow, the policeman had read it
very carefully. The thing that disturbed him very much was
the news which announced the return of God on the little
planet Terra.

�You upset God-the Father!� Mallory shouted at the vagabonds
from Octupus, one cold morning.

He got on a cracked cask and he was shook the bible in the
air, full of anger. His cheeks got red. One of his eyes
winking, his lips were thrilling, he was sprinkling his
saliva right on the toe cap of his new polished shoes. He
shouted:

�And you won�t be saved, you sinners! You made fool of those
wonderful musical intruments. You broke His heart with those
pathetic sounds, with those creaks, and that grumbling of
yours! The haughtiness will lose you, miserables! How can
you think that just filling your lungs, that rattling you
could get to that wonderful harmonious link of sounds that
those people on the little planet Terra are trying for
thousands...�

�Boooo! Bravoooo!�

�How petty you are! I grieve you! I will think of you! I
will pray for you! And now I will arrest you all and put you
in jail!�

Mallory has run after the vagabonds for an hour. They were
hiding behind the garbage bins, they were climbing the
purple trees, making fun of him. They were angry and were
shouting:

�If we become immortal, we will be like God-the Father with
whom you always threaten us! And then we will ask Him,
being His equals, how could we sin in front of Him, if He
didn�t show up at all?!�

Mallory supposed that music was one of those ways. That�s
why he was keeping in big secret a sax that he used to play
when the night was coming, after he spoke to God-the Father:

�Forgive me God! Must I disturb Your silence with my
grunting to get to You?! How helpless I am! But let me try,
let me take a little light, to save those wandering souls
and robb in Monte Carlito!�

Cramming the vagabonds in his silent van, Mallory felt a
pang. How many times has he kicked the vagabonds for they to
become conscious again? Slaming the van�s door, Mallory
shouts all sweated:

�You fools, even if you become immortal, you couldn�t be
equals to God!�

�Why, bloodhound?!� they mocked at him.

�Because He is eternal!� chilled Mallory






Ovidiu Bufnila was born on August 15, 1957, in Tg.Ocna, Bacau, and studied at Mechanics Faculty, Galati, Romania.
His novel JAZZONIA was awarded the best Romanian SF novel in 1992

He received the award for the best Romanian SF story, MANDHALA, 2001, the Sigma award, 2002, for excellence in Romanian SF and the Sigma award for the best Romanian SF novel, Moreaugarin�s crusade. As a recognition of his talent, in 2003 he received the annual Clouds Magazine award.

<img src="/images/graemlins/cool.gif" alt="" />

Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
Newbie
OP Offline
Newbie
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
We thank to the administrators of this wonderful digital island for the support they give to worldwide Science Fiction!

Sincerely,
Ovidiu Bufnila
Romanian SF writer
editor
Topic Science Fiction
<img src="/images/graemlins/cool.gif" alt="" />

Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 1
Newbie
Offline
Newbie
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 1
The World of Ben Ami

But Gods!

�Pour Violet Feelings to color my Skin,
Throw Redishest Sparkles to fire my Light
And gather Blue Fingers to hide our Sin
While turning my Soul into Goddess of Night!�
Ela1

The moment I woke up, I began to understand - without any sense or any logic. I simply knew. It could happen to anyone. It happened to me.
It was amazing...I kept wondering why me? I was as normal as anyone else before, that�s for sure. Several hours had already passed by and I was still wondering and learning more and more new things. The world had become full of colors, it seemed to be a different world altogether. I myself had become a different person. I felt like someone had done it on purpose, simply to bewilder me, to take advantage of the secrets of my soul. And, as if this wasn�t strange enough, all kind of weird thoughts were haunting me. My entire childhood had been thrown far away, into a deep garbage bin. But had I ever had a childhood? Hadn�t I always been a grown-up? I was afraid...
It wasn�t such a great thing to be an adult, after all. I learnt it from Them. From the Gods.
I was hiding in that huge Real, haunted by those deceptive visions, listening to their voices. I was interpreting their illusions. In my own way� I wasn�t necessarily supposed to believe that I was dreaming, but I would have wished to be dreaming. Too many noises were writhing around, and They � as chance would have it- were saying only stupid things. At least that�s what I thought back then!
There were two grown-up Gods. Diana � who reminded me of someone, but I wasn�t very sure of whom, as these memories were not mine, and George.
Diana was simply beautiful� I would have liked to share some illusions with Her.. to come near Her and smell Her violet scent that had driven me mad from the very beginning. To make Love to Her.
Their world attracted me with such ease. I slipped onto the shining surface of a Real garnished with magical symbols. The Gods were so different and Their thoughts so complex! It was as if I had always imagined myself being able to deal with such intricacy. Wherever I would have gone, whatever I would have done, I could hear Their voices. I felt everything and, sometimes, it hurt. The Color, that was.
When I was called to share into the Organic, I had the feeling that the illusion was broken. But it was just a thought. I kept on recording all Their dialogues effortlessly...and even Their illusions.
It was only then, I guess, that everything turned blue around me. The moment I realized that, instead of just being part of a nightmare as I secretly hoped, Reality was turning into a disillusion. A white sticky mist had invaded me, making it impossible to find my way out of it. Words were penetrating it though; they kept on scratching my privacy with their small, icy claws... They scared me, indeed.
Having been organically shared, I left the group again. They had noticed my apathy, my lack of zeal.
I didn�t contradict them when they called me a Residual. They were right, perhaps even more than they were able to imagine. However, I sometimes couldn�t stand them any longer; I couldn�t stand the rotten colors of their sensations. .. They were spending their entire life imagining visions, only to disintegrate them into worthless breathings afterwards. Games perverted by hypnogogic images. Utter nonsense that was feeding their illusions. Small souls�
I believed that � after everything I had done for the Group the day before � I deserved a bit of intimacy. But...what had I done that day?
My memories were crawling through the cracks of my soul, which was invaded by a blue breathing. They were pulling me out of the tree of my ignorant family, out of the common trunk of the group. They made my state more difficult � supposing that there was a state in the first place. It was the state that soothed my fears on the edge of the abyss...where I had lost my balance.
I felt alone and rejected, though I didn�t know why, by whom or in what sense. I wanted to order the sensations that kept coming into my mind. I desperately needed Love. I wanted to be helped out, to be understood, to be treated with respect. Even with fear. All this was quite new for me.
*

Not all of Their ideas were intelligible. Some of them lacked the slightest trace of clarity. They did not succeed in communicating me anything that could help me going mad. I kept on absorbing the sensation, preparing myself for the moment when I could integrate them into a certain structure. However, the desire was just not there. I didn�t know why nobody had invited it yet.
*
There is nowhere in the Real a correlation between the weight of the body (whatever that means) and the IQ. I am flabbergasted. Does it means that the radio is a device for measuring a feigned reality?
Look is the name of Their Religion. I understood that they sometimes spent too much time worshiping Their idols, and that was why some embarrassing states occurred. This was a very powerful sect. Their numberless proselytes followed the principle according to which you were supposed to succeed by any means. Their motto was: �But GODS!� George is one of the supporters of this genuine philosophy. I didn�t understand why, as he never smiled. This has been Their distinctive sign for a long time now � At least that�s I heard on the radio.
For Them, just like for us, Religion remains the basis upon which one may build up a general view of the society. The only difference is that, while our idols have always returned into Primordial, Theirs have become Political Leaders. I was puzzled, my mind marked with perplexity! They are guided by anything else but reason. Indeed, by anything!

*
It�s very strange that they still call GODS. It is just like a disease attacking a mind flooded with illusions.
I remember the sensations of my beloved Father: �- Little Spiky�, he would say, getting real excited when talking about that, �our world is perfectly conceived.� I didn�t agree with him. �There will finally come the Day when we will master the destiny of the Great Real, the day when� and here he was almost whispering, �the Gods will crumble under the ruins of their own religion�. But I couldn�t understand what he was talking about. �They will be crashed just like those Groups that are unable to keep a whit of madness are crushed!� So he was breathing to me, for he was a wise! Numberless were those who were asking for his breathe of madness. They got all excited in the midst of their illusions. I don�t recall anyone being turned down. He couldn�t feel Blue, he was a Survivor. �You�re fully responsible for the destiny of your Group�, everybody breathed. �A great wise man!� the leaders of the groups in the neighboring Whirlwinds had also proclaimed, until he returned into the Primordial.

*

Today, while I was conceiving a state of Love with a beautiful entity from the young Whirlwind Group, my illusions were running to the Goddess Diana.
In the beginning, I got amused by the images that were overlapping my state of Love. Then I was seized with shame and that dark pain spread throughout my whit of madness.
While caressing my lover, I imagined her goddess like curls falling onto her naked, curved shoulders and her purple fragrance covering my passion with a thin layer of red ice.
Nevertheless, I have to refrain myself. I don�t want others to notice my feelings for Her. They could think I was a Residual, unable to become the leader of the Group, or of the ritual of sharing into the organic knowledge. They could avoid me or even banish me into the unknown whirlwind of the Great Real�
Destiny in itself � and this word does not have any meaning unless one connects it to the future � is considered to be bizarre (bizarre being yet another notion unconsciously taken from Gods). You can structure the mysteries for the hallucinating Games of the Group all by yourself. Nobody can help you master that tiny bit of Primordial breathing, of Madness.
The mysteries of the survival breathing are sacred! As I will get closer to the edge of the real existence, I will allow the illusions to breathe freely. Beyond the limits of all Whirlwinds. Although this won�t make any difference any more!
However, one cannot twist the Real like that. No one is going to stir up your illusions just to understand your breathing. No matter how deeply are you imbued with the essence of the Gods� survival.
The truth of illusions and sensations, of all the hypnagogic images should be enforced under the threat of a premature return into the Primordial. If need be, into the Gods� one, that is, in the middle of nowhere! How could I reach the surface of my own Reality crammed with fake mysteries and stupid illusions as it is? Oh, sweet blasphemy!
I ask myself questions, only to answer them myself. Nothing satisfies me, nothing makes me do mad.
*

The night fell! Yet another reason for Gods to be Gods. They can create light or darkness and yet they can�t see in the dark. That�s why they imagined the game of the switch, the most stupid Game they have ever imagined. Sometimes I lie to myself that I am superior to them since I cannot make a clear distinction between light and darkness, the way they can.
The leader of the Young Whirlwind group would avoid me if he could feel the way I breathe. He is a fanatic of illusions. The Sensation may feel in His breathing, whenever one fails to keep away from Him, is that of a putrid color....Organic Decay...�If one can send you into the Primordial, even unconsciously, One can also be your God!� that was what that decayed individual breathed. That is plain nonsense. That is not a Philosophy. Even a small Spiky is able to coalesce, and then can breathe into the Real, a much more sophisticated sensation. A much brighter one. I wish I could to reveal him a few details of my meeting with the Goddess and breathe him: �I�ve caressed Diana today! How come I didn�t pass the threshold of the Real while imagining that state of Love?�� Poor, decayed individual, he would fume even before I�d finish this illusion� I learnt about this strange game of going mad from Diana; she was breathing it obsessively as soon as George disappeared into the great Rea. �Maybe you mother should go mad!� she breathed and I thought it was a game. I felt how madness was growing inside me. Had she finally decided to show me the way toward the understanding of these Sacred Mysteries?

*

Even until today, the God has seemed to be an Organic, responsible for his small Group. Even if he doesn�t smile (like His idol does) his thoughts � which long ago stirred up some illusions that were alien to the Real deep inside me �defined faithfully his moral portrait (as They call it). I knew He was jealous and womanizer � which were also the qualities of a leader in my world � but I didn�t think he was capable to destroy the Organic of the beautiful Diana. He said to Her �Look, why don�t you take care of this hand!� and he slapped her.
Many hours have passed since then, but the eyes of the Goddess are still full of tears.
Could this be just a game or the collapse my dear father was telling me about?
I tried hard to breathe her violet illusion in order to soothe that dark state that had seized her. I failed! For the first time in my life, I could understand what powerless truly mean the helplessness- a blue sensation drowning my mind into a Primordial ocean. I will not be able to imagine a state of Love with the beautiful entity from the Young Whirlwind for a long time.

*

I�ve been trying for three days now to communicate with Her. It is telepathy, I�ve just learnt. Many words that begin with tele- (and this is such a strange notion). I learn them from the Radio.
I didn�t know They barely survive. That everywhere � inside the Great Real � there are wars, hunger, and diseases. That millions of Them were dying � A gloomy disappointment seized me when I understood how many they were. I was wrong every day of my life. The teachings of the mad wise men were incomplete. The breathing coming from the other Groups contained so much information. Since the moment I figured that out, not a day has passed by in which I did not enrich my illusions about the Great Real.

*

My Madness is greater than any of my people could ever imagine. The history of Gods has lasted far less than ours. That suggests that They have come from the Real of a different Primordial (or of a different Planet, as they say). What other explanation could there be since They repress their moving illusions in films or record them in books.
These may be Games too, but the Whirlwinds are different and there are other Gods to rule them.
*

Today I have strengthened the Trunk of Group by becoming a leader, however it wasn�t at all as I imagined. They just overlooked one of the sacred mysteries - the beautiful entity from the young Whirlwind hadn�t yet joined the Group. They thought she was avoiding me but I didn�t breathe them that it was the other way round!
After a while, taking advantage of the new position and with an infinite care for details, I began to transfer everything I knew about the Gods into their imagination. The silence that fell after I finished sharing with them into the Organic Knowledge was the beginning of a glorious era for my people. The maddest Wiseman in the history of the entire Primordial had just opened their way to the Stars. The Whirlwinds of all the Primordials were waiting for the mastery of these new Gods. I was nevertheless dissatisfied!
I left my Group and no one noticed my departure. Diana, my beautiful lover, mastered my red sensations and all my purple desires. I wanted to communicate Her words. To exhibit my madness. To explain Her that the radio was deceiving her, to breathe Her that the Nuclear entities, the maddest of all political leaders GODS are� in danger.
Blasphemy, you sacred mystery of the Primordial!

*
I was in love with her. I had kissed the violets of Her breasts the night before. I had breathed poem-like words, purple and red. I had allowed those blue illusions to penetrate my treacherous soul. Just for a moment I broke the chains of the Primordial and deceived myself with the freedom of Her Organic. I smelled Her, I wrapped my passionate breathing around her things.
Now I was in a hurry to meet Her. To fight against the entity that was torturing my beautiful lover.
I chose the moment very carefully. They were eating silently, each of Them sitting at one end of the table, with Their illusions well hidden between the splinters of Their souls.
Then He looked at me. He would have ignored me, just as he had done it before had I not imagined him an illusion freshly brought out of the Primordial. Poor George� He had no clues. When He put Her on guard that I was there, Diana started crying.
As I rose up from the table, I leaped in front of Diana, and, inverting the illusion, I turned the Real on its other side!
Having been truly satisfied for the first time, I turned to Diana and embraced Her.
How red She was!
I wanted to kiss her, but I hesitated for a second. I had so many things to tell her and yet�.the spark in her eyes reminded me, at first, of the beautiful entity I had abandoned in the Young Whirlwind.


Guarda...e passa - Dante - El Inferno
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
Newbie
OP Offline
Newbie
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
ROMANIAN Science Fiction History (fragment)

Romanian sf is over a century old. 1873 marked the appearances of the novelette "Finis Rumaniae", "The End of Romania", by the obscure writer Al. N. Dariu; two years letter came a future UTOPIA, �Spiritele anului 3000�, �Spirits of the Year 3000�, (1875) by Demetriu G. Ionnescu (the form of his name used by the statesman Take Ionescu [1858 - 1922]). The earliest sf writer proper in Romania was Victor Anestin (1858 - 1918), whose first novel was �In anul 4000 sau o calatorie la Venus�, �In the Year 4000, or A Voyage to Venus�,; 1914 marked the almost simultaneous appearance of two �classic� novels of Romanian sf; �O tragedie cereasca�, �A Sky Tragedy�, (1914), again by Anestin, and �Un roman in luna�, �A Romanian on the Moon�, (1914) by Henri Sthal (1877 - 1942). All these belong to the tradition of the �astronomical� novel, as it was known before WWI.

Between the Wars the range of themes widened, the most notable novels being no longer �astronomical�: examples are �Baletul Mecanic�, �The Clockwork Ballet�, (1931) by Cezar Petrescu (1892 - 1961) and �Orasele inecate�, �The Drowned Cities�, (1936) by Felix Aderca (1891 - 1962). There were also some valuable short stories, including �Groaza�, �Horror�, (1936) �Manechinul lui Igor�, �Igor's Mannequin�, (1938) and �Ochiul cu doua pupile�, �The Two-Pupilled Eye�, (1939), all by Victor Papilian (1888 - 1956); a scientific fairy-tale, �Agerul Pamantului�, �The Deft Giant of the Earth� (1939) by I.C. Vissarion (1879 - 1951); an above all 2 sf novelettes set in India (see below) by Mircea Eliade (1907 - 1986), better known in the West for his studies in comparative religion; he was professor of the History of Religion at the University of Chicago 1956 - 1986, and author of fundamental works in this field, written in French and translated all over the world.

As a writer of fiction, Eliade belonged entirely to Romanian literature: he became one of the nation's major writers before WWII, while still living in Romania, and, when abroad afterwards, continued writing fiction exclusively in Romanian. He wrote both realistic and fantastic , fiction, the latter including some genuine masterpieces: the novels �Domnisoara Cristina�, �Miss Cristina�, (1936) and �Sarpele�, �The Snake� (1937), the novelettes �La Tiganci� (1959; trans as �With the Gypsy Girls� 1973 Denver Review) and �Pe strada Mantuleasa�, �On Mantuleasa Street�, (1968 France), and many others, including �Foret Interdite� (1955 France; in original Romanian as �Noaptea de Sanzaiene� 1971 France; trans Mac Linecott Rickette and Mary Park Stevenson as �The Forbidden Forest� 1978 US), a huge novel in which the search for IMMORTALITY is paralleled to a myth-saturated history of Romania. 5 of his writings are (somewath borderline) sf. From his rich knowledge of Indian culture (he studied at the University of Calcutta 1928 - 31), Eliade extrapolated hypotheses drawn from, for example, Yoga and Tantra in a science fictional manner, as in the title story of �Secretul doctorului Honigberger� (coll 1940; trans William Ames Coates as �Two Tales of the Occult� 1970 US; vt �Two Strange Tales� 1986); the title story (here trans as �Doctor Honigberger's Secret�) is about time distortion and INVISIBILITY; the volume also contains �Nopti la Serampore� (1939) (here trans as �Midnight in Serampore�), in which time reversibility reduces individual lifespans to infinitesimal proportions compared to the great time-intervals of supra-individuality. The short story �Un om mare� (�A big Man�) (written 1945; 1948) is about a giant and is partly reminiscent of H.G.Wells's �The Food of the Gods� (1904); it is included in �Fantastic Tales� (coll trans E.Tappe 1969 UK). The last 2 of his works of interest are novelettes written in Paris much letter, both on the theme of MUTANTS: the hero of �Tinerete fara de tinerete�� (written 1976; 1978 Germany), which appears in English as the long title story of �Youth without Youth� (coll trans 1989 UK), is a mutant who becomes young and immortal after a thunderbolt; and in �Les trios Graces� (�The three Graces�) (1976) Eliade transforms an idea he found in the Apocrypha in a cruel story about a rejuvenation treatment given to three old women suffering from cancer - they become unhappy mutants. A further English - language collection of Eliade's stories is �Tales of the Sacred and Supernatural� (coll trans 1981 US).

Cornel Robu - "The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction"

INVITATION:
I invite you to navigate in:
http://www.sciencefiction.mateidonea.ro/
<img src="/images/graemlins/cool.gif" alt="" />

Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 1
Newbie
Offline
Newbie
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 1
Comics became more a �phase� between literature and cinema.
Especially in Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror�
This is true also for the Romanian Comics!
Please visit
[url=BellaOnline ALERT: For anti-spam reasons, we restrict the number of URLs allowed in a given post. You have exceeded our maximum number of URLs.


My time is precious and I am generous
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
Newbie
OP Offline
Newbie
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
The Salesman
By
Marius Damian


He was the salesman. He could sell anything to anybody. No employer could afford to pay him...
***
Everything started several years ago. He got a job as a sales agent with a company where they sold computers and coffee machines in the door-to-door system. For two months he walked through his small native town and sold a lot of products. The sales figures increased substantially so that he was promoted sales assistant and now he had not to walk from door to door any more. After another three months of activity during which he managed to increase twice times the total volume of sales of the company the central management themselves started to become interested in him. His life began to change, he bought himself a car, he moved to a new flat in the middle of the town, everything went better and better. After another two months the main management called him to the head office and he became manager general for the distribution line of the products he had sold at the very beginning. He did better and better, the distributors with whom he personally spoke bought more and more and he also often went out-doors to help with the increase of sales in all towns and cities where they had distributors. Meanwhile his salary had increased monthly so he could afford a new car and a big house at the skirts of the city. By and by he was accepted in the high society of the capital and he took part at many parties and public events. At the end of the year he was awarded the title of the �seller of the year� and his photo came on the front pages of newspapers and magazines. Women offered to marry him and after each party he came home with a gorgeous girl who could not wait to get into his bed� His life was gorgeous, it changed dramatically�When he thought back to the time he had first knocked at a door of a possible buyer he hardly could believe, what he had managed to become�Manager general, seller of the year� His work seemed easy for him, his discussions with a client always lead to the conclusion of a contract to everybody�s content. The sale of the company grew and grew � It became obvious for everybody that all these were due to him � The partners of the company rubbed their hands for joy when they saw the results and they promoted him again. He became the general manager of the whole company, his salary doubled and he also got substantial share of the profit. He continued to work in his usual rhythm and his results remained good, but after several months something began to go wrong� He didn�t feel the same pleasure any more; he started to feel bored� And then he began to think about other numerous offers he got from concurrent companies. But now he applied with a multinational company that had offices in the capital. After another two weeks he moved there and became general manager country-wide. The products of this company were quite different but this was no problem with him� He went on with his work here and after six months the income of the company grew with almost ten percents.
Such extraordinary results attracted the attention of everybody. Some concurrent companies tried to persuade him to join them but he refused all offers� He remained where he was and did his work well. At the end of the year the managing board proposed him to be manager of the whole sales department at the head-office. He accepted and week after he moved to the most powerful city of the planet and started his work � It was a new challenge and he felt content�
But it was not the only multinational company in the world� The others became envious at the success of the firm he was employed with� Each company tried to get him but all their attempts failed, then one of the managers got an idea� He invited all the other managers of companies for a secret meeting, where they discussed the matter and finally they reached an agreement what to do� They would make a clone of him�
Several months later a representative of the other companies came and handed him an invitation for a private encounter with the other representatives of the multinational companies. At the beginning he tried to refuse, but finally he gave in. The representative was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen � She was exactly the woman of his dreams, of the dreams during his lonely nights, the woman he had been looking for� But he also managed to make her promise that they would meet again�
He went to the meeting that took place somewhere in the Pacific on a small island that seemed to be a part of Paradise�
He listened to the requests of the others and he accepted everything� The price was perfect; his most hidden dream had finally come true� He got on his feet, greeted everybody and left. Before going out of the building he stopped at a desk where a pretty assistant took a drop of blood from his forefinger and spread it on a glass blade�
He went out and saw Her: the very girl who had come to his office; she smiled at him � He put his hand round her waist and they left together to the shore of the ocean, on the beach with white, fine sand�.
***
�How could they be sure I would accept?� he asked her his hand wandering over her perfect thigh.
�They were sure�They created me specially for you� she smiled�
He smiled too, accepting the idea� In fact he had everything he wanted, the contract was firm and could not be cancelled by nobody and nothing � And his clones � They would take the situation as it was at the beginning, before he appeared� If all of them were exactly as good as he was � Why not?

Bistrita
June 24, 2003

Marius Damian
Editor sef AVANGARDA [url=BellaOnline ALERT: For anti-spam reasons, we restrict the number of URLs allowed in a given post. You have exceeded our maximum number of URLs.

Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
Newbie
OP Offline
Newbie
Joined: Aug 2004
Posts: 6
The Darkness On The Other Side
by Marius DAMIAN

Dark. Cold.

Food � once a day, some pieces of bread in a cold soup.

Water � none at all. Only what i get in the soup.

Cold. Very cold.

The walls are cold and slimy at the touch. I'm trying to explore the room through the pitch darkness, my eyes closed. At least this way I can have the illusion of creating the gloom myself. I'll go crazy if I open them. I'd better keep them closed. Maybe tomorrow... Or maybe today? I don't even know how many days have passed since i got here. Or weeks? I'm counting the moments in my mind, dividing them into minutes, the minutes into hours, hours into days, but i lose track. I don't know anymore...

The door opens suddenly. I knew it was there, I've felt it when I was touching the walls. It's just as cold as the rest. Frozen metal. When I first touched it, I scratched myself with something and I could feel the blood coming out. Whatever, it doesn't matter. The light outside is scratching my retina, making me blink a lot. I'm covering my eyes. I can't bear the light anymore. Could it have possibly been that long?

I can feel my arms being grabbed, myself dragged down a long corridor and some endless stairs. My legs hit the steps. They hurt. But getting hurt is better than darkness. The guards have put me down. I'm in a large room with strong white lights. I'm trying to get my eyes open. They're shedding lots of tears. I manage to open them for a few seconds. All I see is white. All over the place. I hear the door shutting. I stay down, lying on the floor.

The silence is killing me. I can't hear a thing and I feel the silence pressing down on my brain. I'm trying to sing. Anything I can remember. I'm singing aloud, shouting. They might hear me. So what? I don't care. I can keep my eyes open now. I'm happy. I'm looking around the room. It's empty. All except one place on a wall, one black spot. I'm getting closer to it. I start touching the wall. There's a hole in the wall. No!

I don't want to remember anything about the blackness, the dark and the cold back there. I'm sitting down, my back against the wall. It's nice and warm in here. I'm really thankful towards my guards. I got rid of the cold. And there's light. But it's all so white...

I close my eyes and try to sleep. I can feel a soft breeze coming through the wall next to me. Cold. I move away to the other side of the room. Close to the door. So I'll be ready.
The door opens suddenly. I knew it was there. I could see it. A guard comes in, leaving me the same plate of soup. I eat it, then leave it by the door. I'm thinking. Counting again. But what's it worth, after all? Whatever, it doesn't matter. The wound on my hand is almost completely healed. A thin crust has covered it. I'm happy now. I start singing again. And shouting. And howling. I'm tired. I let myself fall to the floor and cry. A lot. Don't know why. But i know it's the only way. I settle down after a while. I fall asleep.

I'm starting to explore the walls today. Slowly, there's no hurry. I'm touching them with my fingers. The walls are warm and soft. I wish I could write. There's nothing to write with. I'll ask the guards.

I've asked them. They gave me nothing. They cut my daily ration as a punishment. I won't ask them for anything from now on. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. I'm hot. I fall asleep, thinking of the darkness on the other side. It was cooler back there...

I'm approaching the black eye once again today. It's the only interesting thing in the whole room. I'm trying to look through it. It's black, blacker than the night. If I hadn't felt the soft breeze, i would have believed it to be a mere black spot. It isn't. It's a whole in the wall. I know it. I checked it out myself. With my fingers. The edges are absolutely moist. I manage to get my hand inside. It's the same. Moist. Just a bit colder than the white walls. I can feel the coolness. I'm sitting next to the black hole, breathing the cool air. It's getting hotter and hotter. Why have they moved me here?

The door opens suddenly. I get my plate. I take it and empty it immediately. I love my guards. I'm happy when they bring me my plate. I know now. A day is the time between two plates. It's good. But it's very hot. Why?

The black eye is drawing me towards it. I'm approaching it again. I carefully get my arm inside. Just the hand, for now. It's good. Nothing happens. I'll go on tomorrow.

I tried to reach the end of the hole today. I couldn't do it. I got my whole arm inside. No use. It's the same. Moist, colder than the room. Where it keeps getting hotter. I feel like I can't breathe. The air is hot. I'm sitting next to the black eye, breathing the soft breeze. I'm thinking of the darkness on the other side. It was so good! I'll tell them to take me back. Tomorrow I'll ask them to move me back!

I've asked them. They gave me nothing. They cut my daily ration as a punishment. I won't ask them for anything from now on. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. I'm hot. I fall asleep, thinking of the darkness on the other side. It was cooler back there. It was good...

I'm looking at the black eye. I feel it looking back at me. I'm trying to focus. If only I could get smaller, maybe I'd manage to get in there. The heat inside the room is flooding my brain. Boiling.

I know. I'm gonna make it. From today on I'll stop eating anything. The heat inside the room will do the rest. I won't approach the black eye anymore. Not until I'm ready. Not until I'll make it. I must make it.

The darkness on the other side is waiting for me.

14.08.2003

translated on 03.09.2003 from Romanian by Bogdan Gheorghiu aka UnSlayne

Marius Damian
Editor sef AVANGARDA [url=BellaOnline ALERT: For anti-spam reasons, we restrict the number of URLs allowed in a given post. You have exceeded our maximum number of URLs.


Link Copied to Clipboard
Brand New Posts
Make It Sew Easier
by Cheryl - Sewing Editor - 03/27/24 04:34 PM
2024 - on this day in the past ...
by Mona - Astronomy - 03/27/24 01:31 PM
Planner Template Kit - Weekly Layout Template
by Digital Art and Animation - 03/26/24 07:39 PM
Planner Template Kit - Yearly Layout Template
by Digital Art and Animation - 03/26/24 07:37 PM
How to Use Digital Planner Template Kit
by Digital Art and Animation - 03/26/24 07:36 PM
Review - 20 Illustrator Color tips Helen Bradley
by Digital Art and Animation - 03/26/24 07:32 PM
March Equinox to June Solstice
by Mona - Astronomy - 03/26/24 12:27 PM
Hobotrader unleashes never seen opportunity with i
by Jamal molla - 03/26/24 11:55 AM
Psalm for the day
by Angie - 03/25/24 09:05 AM
Genealogy, Sort of
by Angie - 03/24/24 05:39 PM
Sponsor
Safety
We take forum safety very seriously here at BellaOnline. Please be sure to read through our Forum Guidelines. Let us know if you have any questions or comments!
Privacy
This forum uses cookies to ensure smooth navigation from page to page of a thread. If you choose to register and provide your email, that email is solely used to get your password to you and updates on any topics you choose to watch. Nothing else. Ask with any questions!


| About BellaOnline | Privacy Policy | Advertising | Become an Editor |
Website copyright © 2022 Minerva WebWorks LLC. All rights reserved.


Powered by UBB.threads™ PHP Forum Software 7.7.5