Archive for febbraio, 2019



He prayed.

He paid.

He shouted like a man burning at a stake.

He regretted.

He lit a single candle.

She awoke fully blind, useless eyes behind closed blue-veined lids.

No emotion when she heard her destined fate from the white clothed ghosts, just one phrase rendered with the most simple infuriating calm tone.

No, I won’t try further research, but thank you for the suggestion.

His anger smothered and he took care of the paperwork against her words, not seeing her strength forced still behind endurance.

His power, his high castle, his money and his eyes.

All he owned at her service.

She didn’t object, freedom now all but gone apart from thought.

Quietly saying his name, hesitant if needing direction.

Her hand, bones so thin as a broken bird, dwarfed by his while guided out in a world no longer hers to see.

Protection he’ll give for she couldn’t survive without.

Caged inside, behind her lost vision.

Caged outside, into his own kingdom.

The high castle’s door closed behind her back, the lock revolving into place, shutting out bird song.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8 § 9 § 10


He found her baptized in her own blood.

Semi-unconscious, sharp glass sparkling like stars in her dark hair and trails of bloody tears on her cheek.

His calls went unanswered as the explosive panic drew everyone else still alive out of the danger.

Smoke and fire snapping like whips, hands snatching burning the air.

Chaos breathed into silence in a white corridor with whiter clothed people walking softly and quiet.

Ghosts reflected, unseeing.

Unfeeling, detached.

She lay on the uncomfortable bed.

Still and breathing.

Peaceful and destroyed while his money ran all the machinery.

Perpetual was the ticking of the clock in the white corridor.

She will awake, eventually. The ghosts said with pity they didn’t feel.

Oh, she will awake, tin soldier.

The cracked mirror harshly mocked You both shall find out your reflection has changed for the world has turned on itself.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8 § 9

Guardate un po’ chi è resuscitato dopo un due notti di debugging? 😃

Yep il mio bestio preferito + potente del 20% e ancora di + una figata stratosferica in amplificazione audio!😍

Beh….ho deciso che mi concentrerò su UT questo weekend quindi sì è MOLTO facile che la storia venga aggiornata in questo paio di giorni. 😘


After the fear came unadulterated joy – for she looked down! – then bitterness at not being the cause and curiosity.

The last wasn’t sated as he didn’t ask and she didn’t talk much.

A few muttered words where all that left her mouth, while she ate with scarce appetite the feast he ordered.

Words that didn’t meant a fig to him for he was eating her alive.

Now that weakness had revealed itself he was in for the hunt as the spark was still there in the clouds hiding her eyes in the eclipse.

It wasn’t beneath him and he will prey on her for he wanted body, soul, mind, eyes and the very breath passing through those red lips of hers.

He could already taste victory and her blood in his mouth.

Later he would still feel the gentle pressure of fingers on his arm as he walked her to the subway station.

Later still her words of thanks, and a smile, eyes up into his.

I wronged you. She said For you do care.

He watched her go down the stairs, a mixture of shock and sinister pleasure on his face.

Scorned was the mirror, malign and black.

Splinters in his middle, hateful words on the snapping edge.

An Inferno unleashed the righteous fury of the Gods for the weak shall be spared and the pillager punished.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8


The next time he saw her was two months later, summer ready to burst with its heat.

She sat alone at a café table, watching the contents of her mug.

He almost didn’t recognize her at first as she looked more and more odd to his eyes.

Worn and paler. Thin as a rail. Quiet as a mouse.

He approached, sitting in front of her without a ‘by your leave’.

She watched him.

He in one of his best linen suits, fit and healthy, strong jaw and perfectly trimmed beard.

She was shabby, all her clothes in dark colors, with bags under eyes missing all the fight.

And what ails you, fairer lady amongst fair?

She ignored the sarcasm, pale fingers curved on the mug, eyes casted down.

Something cold, dark, gripped him raising his hackles.

The mirror, its reflecting quality gone, stood silent and livid.

Substance dripped slowly onto the floor, pooling in one big puddle full of mercury.

The unnamed feeling in his breast, so new, was fear.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8


Adone didn’t see her for a few weeks and life went on.

Unchanged and defined by his taste and desires.

No anger in his mind, no missing void.

Sometimes he smelled the lingering perfume of her hair, French lavender in a summer twilight.

As time passed her eyes were dark and watchful in the fatigued mirror.

Heavy nightcaps did nothing to banish her out from the surface or from the sheets on his bed while deep in dream.

Every morning, every button fastened and wrinkle pressed away, he was the same.

Commanding his empire of pawns with gentle pushes onward and shoving weaklings down in six feet of mud.

He could be cruel just like her and take pleasure in it.

One day the flaming sword would fall on her dark head and he’ll have the she-daemon unclawed at last.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7


He was amused, sourly bored by his old life, searching her out.

She didn’t like his attitude one bit, more bitter towards all he was than ever.

The months leading to spring were passed sparring like blood lusting fiends.

Both too conceited to withdraw from the carnage and too prideful to admit kinship.

Above their heads the sun ascended burning cold, reflecting in her eyes, melting matter.

Primal was the moment he found a way to cage her moonlit beside him for one evening.

No care spared, nor love or true hate found them while beautiful human voices danced in the dark, beneath them.

Her pale profile stark in the dim light, silken hair braided softly in an updo heavy on the nape of her neck.

One lone tear shimmering down her cheek as the last tragic aria ended and her eyes closed.

Later, at her door, he earned a sharp slap that turned his head sideways and would smart for a few days.

A true hellion of a woman, not half his size, and amusing him immensely.

That night a mirror wept in agony, warped and unclear.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6

UT’s fate…

Ciao a tutti, questo post per aggiornarvi sullo stato apparentemente immobile di UT…

Purtroppo non riesco più a scrivere spesso come alcuni anni fa a causa della vita lavorativa che prende il soppravento nelle ore e nei giorni più impensabili della settimana…mettici poi l’avere degli hobby, la famiglia e mantenere un minimo di relazioni extra-personali e magari trovare il tempo di farsi una passeggiata ogni tanto xD

Quindi ora vi spiego peché il tanto sospirato nuovo aggiornamento non è stato pubblicato nonostante lo avessi promesso.

In realtà ero arrivata ad un buon punto nella scrittura degli ultimi capitoli un paio di settimane fa.

Il mio desktop è stramazzato al suolo con BSOD (blue screen of death…AAAAHHHH!!!) a ripetizione e vari errori nel suo registro di sistema da dieci giorni circa.

Considerando che la configurazione è stata montata da me quando avevo 15 anni ed il SO ha un registro di 10 anni di vita non mi stupisce ma intanto sono in panne per quanto riguarda la parte grafica lavorativa, audio/video, gaming e scrittura…LoL

In questo momento il computer è totalmente smontato, ho trovato un processore più potente (da un dual core finisco con una CPU sempre dual ma moltiplicata a 12x) ed ho intenzione di montarlo appena riesco.

Problema: il tempo mi manca e sono incollata al portatile il 90% del giorno.

Prevedo che la riesumazione sarà lunga, dolorosa e piena di parolacce.

Che gli dei informatici siano con me…xD


A will to behold hers.

Unforgiving and cruel, unbending to pleasantries.

He knew it, he tried but nothing lured her.

Her cupid’s bow so tight in irritation at his not so casual presence.

Eyes flashing, a tongue fully able to drew blood with tones so cold winter frost was nothing.

You just want something you’ll never have.

He wasn’t relenting, smiling kindly, always kindly.

He who had everything hard-cash money could buy, could stand the novelty of her whims, the simple plebeian life she led.

Admiring the blinding heat of her spirit, the too sharp wit, the savage gleam buried in those eyes.

They weren’t alike, he had to admit in the shadows of his parlor nursing the last drink, they were two sides of one coin.

Never supposed to meet. whispered a mirror weakly in the room beside, strangely straining in the middle. Remember little soldier that tin will melt too near the sun.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5


A recurrent thought into the snowstorms through the years.

A pale face carved in the finest bone china with just a hint of colour.

Jutting stubborn chin, square jaw and lips dark red.

She was crowned with a thick head of dark silk and eyes-

The first time she laid eyes on him all his beauty, politeness and apparent perfection fled.

She smiled, no words still, a dark look in those thrice-damned eyes.

Then her voice hard and rough carved a path no self-inducing could dim in his ears.

A voice with no pity or kindness, omniscient and ringing true in its spite.

Few bitter words made to lower him to just a man, less than one, sickly poison in his ear.

No-one ever shamed his riches and fortune before.

She did and watched silent while the mirror revolved precariously, turning negative and black, all he thought himself to be cracked more easily than ice.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4


Moonlit reflection casted upon a sleeping form.

Every plane, every ridge and muscle defined by silver.

Silent underwater room, richly furnished.

The moon climbs through the glass, scintillating on the black lacquered bed stand, shining brightly on the cold brass woman, whispering sweet nothings on the linen sheets.

The bed is empty for Adone, always was.

The cracked mirror watches while the tin soldier breathes a world he no longer owns.

And the moon cracks too, like a mere egg’s shell.

Graceful and sweet is the coo of her voice trough the crack.

Find the shore you lost, little tin man as for all your brute strength, polite smiles and cold heart, She will never return.

Not to you or anyone else as she found her freedom in blindness.

1 § 2 § 3


Adone in a suit.

Starched to perfection from head to toe.

Made to belong on the best streets of the best cities of this world made of dirt.

A gentleman first by his looks and than by his mannerisms.

He turned eyes daily, it was so long he found himself almost not caring by now.

Successful, working hard, kind when it fitted him.

Striving to bestow what he got to unfortunate souls if he could.

He cut a figure so clever and handsomely took the rewards into his high castle.

One day his world made of truths clear as day cracked in the middle like a mirror too heavy for its frame.

That world tilted, changing its reflected view.

He tried to straighten it but he couldn’t remember what it looked like before.

The halved surface tricked him, blinding burning destroying.

Cease your ascent for it is as vain and futile as your looks.

The mirror said through the crack.

You shall never again compare to the little tin soldier you were.

1 § 2


[originally from tumblr]

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