Alukard-Abysswalker

 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 ...

So!   Hello everyone! I wanted to give an update for what I'll be posting these next few weeks.   Since I will be participating in a (spanish only) writing competition that will require a whole book to be written, I'll be dedicating most of my energy into that. Instead here I'll be sharing some short stories I'll write that require less effort and will (hopefully) allow me to have a rest from the main work. Not much else to add. Wish me luck and I hope you keep following me on this journey.   Safe travels and take care, my friend.

  Marlene - TMA Hunt Avatar OC       GERRY: Alright, well, let me explain how this works.     GERALDINE: Don’t worry sweetheart, I know what you’re looking for. Some scary stories from my hometown.     GERRY: Well, one specifically-     GERALDINE: So, when do we start?!     GERRY: Uh well…statement of Geraldine Napier, on the sightings of a possible lycanthrope around her residence. GERALDINE: A what? Oh, nevermind, keep going.     GERRY: Statement given the 22nd of January, 2009. Recorded by Gerard Delano, archival assistant of The Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.     GERALDINE: I was having a cup of tea with my friend Marlene. Oh she's the sweetest woman you've ever seen, a heart of gold with an unfortunate bad taste in men. I've only known her for a few years now, but I can tell you, she simply does not know how to choose them! And we call her out on it! Every time she gets her pure little hear...

Log of Diana Iglesias T3-22. Night: Test. Test. I hope this is working, Brian says I should record my logs but this is more comfortable to me. I'm not too confident in my voice yet so I'd rather have it written. Alright check, check. Yeah, it's working. So! As it says on the tin my name is Diana, I am part of the Waste Removal team working for Utopic Corp. A company specialized in Bioengineering for the future! As their tagline reads. I'm a cadet, your run of the mill garbage girl (heh) helping get rid of everything that gets dumped around the galaxy. That makes it sound way more adventurous than it is. Brian and I, he operates the machinery, are on an abandoned research and development station at the far edge of the ouroboros asteroid belt. Not the fanciest of places but we get by, it's an easy job to do and the pay is…well, it's enough, hopefully.  We move waste around. Wires, scrap of all varieties, lost or abandoned tools. It can be dangerous if you're n...

  The low buzz of static is palpable. The air feels thick with it, as if in a perpetual humid summer. But instead of difficulty breathing, one can feel the vibrations go through their ears, and if you close your eyes, it can be felt  reverberating within your ribcage. I take a deep breath, I don't smell but taste it, like a fizzy drink on my tongue but flavorless. When I open my eyes again I see what I have seen for so long. Darkness above, fading into a blue, then purple hue, with pink undertones beneath. I can't tell if the pristine carpet is pink or if that’s just the way the lights make it seem. This half-a-rainbow is cut off by the source of the ever present static, the old CRT television monitors that plague the walls . Limited controls stick out of the panels beneath them. Some buttons and knobs, and the hungry VCR mouth eager to swallow whatever I put forth. And I have food aplenty for it. Shelves filled to the brim with VHS tapes, all neatly put in place, carefully or...

I've always felt comfortable backstage, it was a place I could call home. The creak of the floorboards is almost musical after a while. It feels like stepping into a different world, stage and backstage separated by a game. A game to see how long someone can maintain audience immersion, while the magic happens behind the curtains.  Hundreds of smells ranging from varnish and dust, to the stage make-up and aged paint. Even the humid air becomes  part of it all, in a poetically, dirty way. I feel really at home backstage, feeling the curtains, touching the cloth, the wood, the cold stone in winter and warm bricks in summer. Those who haven't done theater before have no idea how truly mundane, even oppressive the backstage is, so of course you have to make it your own. Perhaps on Broadway there's more glamour, but all the local theaters I've been to have these small, tight spaces us cast members have to sneak around in during a play. A form of camaraderie grows when we are...