Alukard-Abysswalker

 The thud that his power pack made was not loud enough. Not as echoey as it should be. “Is that a word? ‘Echoey?’” Mike turned to Jaz expecting an answer or something. “Eh.” Was all he got from his Catachan comrade. “Aight, but you get me, yes?” He insisted. “No one gets you, Mikol.” She reiterated, if not in words then definitely in humor. “C'mon, power packs are meant to be heavy, therefore they make a very loud thud when hitting the floor. Am I right? Yue?” If Jaz was unwilling to converse, Yue was disgusted by the mere concept. At least judging by how they were already settling down for the night. “Please tell me you're not going to sleep already.” Mike practically begged. “Then I won't tell you,” was the Cadian ’s reply. “You will infer something from my snoring though.” “You overestimate his intelligence.” Corroborated Jaz to which they both snickered together, much to Mike’s dismay. “Don't give me that!” He yelled at them as they laughed. “I am right! It is too...

Lucia mira por la ventana, pensando. Hace tiempo que vé todo, no a través de la ventana si no en su cabeza. Piensa en su mamá, cansada, harta de todo. Piensa en su papá, cansado, negado a ver el bien en nada que no sea dinero. Ningune es mala persona, pero no necesitan serlo. La manera en la que se ven entre sí está armada, prefabricada. No es que no haya amor, quizás lo hay, es que tienen una deficiencia para explorar sus emociones. Una deficiencia que hace tiempo se volvió una elección. Por otro lado, ¿Y ella? Ha hecho mucho trabajo, le ha metido mucha garra. Pero aunque le cueste, lo hace. El tema es que con una brújula rota es difícil saber dónde estás. ¿Cuánto exagera al reaccionar con tristeza? ¿Dónde y en qué contexto gritar es poco apropiado? ¿Con quiénes y durante qué conversaciones es adecuado llorar? Lucía piensa, como siempre ha hecho. Taza de café en mano, mejilla pegada al vidrio frío sobre el que gotea la lluvia. Duele, quizás hay algo de masoquismo en ello. Quizás es qu...

Faith Park is a remarkable place, full of wonders for all to see. Why we’ve got everything from crosses, to charms, from dried up husks, to incense and all the works! Yes sir, in here you’ll find everything your soul desires, unless of course you’re in the #enlightenment era  on your way to Nirvana. In that case we have everything and anything you’d need to keep away any material desires. Budda himself would admit to being proud of you once you’re out! But of course we ain’t narrow minded at all. Perhaps you’re more on the African side, your worship is less temple and more practice, in the fields and with the people. We know that well enough so we’ll give you every tool that you need. Or if you’re a first timer of the first nations well, every shop in here has every piece of herb, animal hide and bone that you may need for any and all of your days of worship. Now sir we of course mean no disrespect, if ya got any complaints let our chief inspector know they’ll make sure to write it...

 Marilyn loved the piano, the sweet sounds of ivory hitting strings hitting the air, vibrating at the perfect frequency to make a human feel connected to the universe, connected to God’s divine instrument for designing His universe. She had tried them all, or well plenty of them. Guitar, harp, theremin, zither, sitar. She had traveled far and wide and tried and tried. But it was the piano that spoke to her. Of a loving God and the embrace of melodious miracles that were always there to be heard. It is an instrument of course, a piano is a way to live through the music of the world. Yet something wasn’t entirely there that night. Years of practice had taught her a lot, covering her fingers with callouses, making her wrists ache with the tension of hours upon hours of practice, until her fingers were stiff with the joyful soreness of training. But she had learned above all when the one out of tune was herself. Disconnected with that divine frequency, body and soul elsewhere. Because ...

 Hey everyone! So sorry for banishing like that. As I mentioned in my last update I started writing a book for a contest, unfortunately I couldn’t do as I planned and write short stories for the blog. On the flip side I am happy to announce I FINISHED A WHOLE BOOK!!!! 129 pages full of fantasy stories about a world with no humans and exploring what their cultures would look like. Funny enough, while I am ecstatic with having done it, there’s still a lot in future stories I would love to improve upon. Unfortunately I won’t be able to share it in English soon, both because it's in Spanish but also because I gotta wait until the contest is done. But the good thing is that a  wonderful friend of mine is going to help translate it into English! For the time being I’ll continue to write stories for this blog since I want an outlet. So, look forward to next week, when I’ll have something new up in here! Safe travels and take care, my friend.

The sizzling of barely organic materials, that is synthetic herbs meant to simulate real herbs, along with the warmth of the lighter, made Silena think of those weird ads on fake meditation she kept seeing every time she browsed for some new gear. “Fucking rangers” She was sick and tired of them, pathetic boys born with a real silver spoon in their mouths, calling themselves rangers, like they were some brave adventurers heading into the unknown. When all they were doing was invest in failed capital ventures and sinking their tenth company of the year. But never facing any consequences. The new trend was meditation. That is, pretending to “commute with the universe” using their overprized V.R. headsets while you listen to the most ridiculous, bastardized lines from books the creators never read in a clearly racist accent. Because god forbid they hire the right person for the job, instead of the cheapest. She took a long, deep breath. Drinking in the smoke. Fuck, it was bad for her but ...