Svyatoslav Albireo's Blog: From Firokami, page 101

Open the door!

#Hi_from_reality
Art&concept by Ol Albireo
Feel free to write your stories
and name arts.
You also can do not only write, but draw, sing, create music and sculptures, translate into other languages you learn for practicing (and never simplify text when you translate it!). Show us that you did.


He involuntarily exhaled a groan from the sharp hit to his eyes. The thin silver chain struck again and again, but now he was ready. The June downpour slashed with sharp jets everyone whom it could reach with its whip. The man furrowed his eyebrows in displeasure. Why he even went today. But what was left for him? The telegram arrived today. He touched his palm to the pocket where the paper lay. There was no ring finger on the hand.
Where is this house? He remembered the address by heart, and the way to the house too, but in the darkness of the street, lit only by the shining jets of rain, bringing light to the earth from the moon, which peered through the gaps in the clouds, shrank from the damp darkness and hid back, the black, as if charred, house was hard to see.
Stephan Dolesi stopped, peering into the darkness. The silhouette of a house appeared through the wall of rain, and the man nodded. He hoped he would finally be able to reach the end and get what he promised. He just needs to come up and knock. A chill ran down Stefan's back, recalling a waking nightmare from childhood when he couldn't find the right door. Why now? Now, on the contrary, he found the right door.
Stefan stroked his pocket with the telegram once more and knocked.
XXXX
The girl leaned on the table with her palms, silent in mid-sentence.
-Rain, huh?- she asked uncertainly, although the rain hissed outside the window more than intelligibly.
The man, one of those sitting at the table, sighed. The question did not require an answer. The knock did not repeat. But it seemed to those present at the table that the guest continued to hammer on the door.
-Maybe this time we shouldn't open? - suggested a young beautiful woman.
The girl snorted or sighed loudly.
-We tried, remember?
For a while, everyone was silent, remembering. They had plenty of time. A whole eternity. But for the guest time went straight ahead. At least for now.

Open the door, AlbireoMKG

Жертва

#Hi_from_reality
art by Ol Albireo
Не стесняйтесь писать свои истории
и давать артам свои названия. Так же, можете не только писать истории, но и рисовать свои арты, сочинять музыку, делать игрушки, пилить лобзиком и царапать гвоздиком, переводить на другие языки, для практики (и никогда не упрощайте текст при переводе!). И нам покажите, что получилось)

Я смотрел на узоры на море, солнечные ядовитые лучи рисовали на нем, как мелом на доске.
За спиной раздался сдавленный мучительный крик. Я вздрогнул. Хотел сдержаться, но все равно вздрогнул. Там пытал свою жертву Море. Не хочу поворачиваться. Это я принес мальчишку. Координаты, которые он мне дал в очередной раз. Там сидел обессиленный парень. От голода, вероятно, обессилел. Это я тогда подумал. Светловолосый, чистенький какой-то. Теперь-то я знаю, что он нечисть. Я позвал его с собой тогда, и он радостно пошел, конечно, мы для него - еда. У берега он остановился, но Море сам подошел к нам.
"Это мое?" - спросил он тогда.
"Да, нашел по твоим координатам"
"Прекрасно, кидай"
Парень сопротивлялся, конечно. Но я связал его жгутом, который подарил мне Море. Как он кричал… я видел, как плавится плоть там, где жгут касался его. Он умолял, обещал что-то. Но я нечисть не слушаю никогда. Они все время говорят, влезают к тебе в голову и говорят или самое желанное или самое страшное. Когда нечисть скрылся под черной пеленой, Море коснулся моего плеча.
Я никогда не забуду это прикосновение. Благодарное. Дружеское.
"Спасибо,"- ослепительно улыбнулся он.
И исчез.

Кошка в окне. АльбиреоМКГ

Alien slippers

142.Spend two hours as if you were suddenly blind. Don't sit! Do something. Do not kill yourself only, without fanaticism.


This game is endless. As long as I'm online, it will go. By hashtag #I_am_here_eternity, you can find this game online and join, complete the task and put a hashtag so that other players can find you. Or do a task just for yourselves. The essence of the game is that you always have somewhere to go, can look into yourself and reveal yourself, and the essence of the hashtag is you can find each other. You can leave the game at any time and return to it at any time. If you want me to see your assignment, send me a link to it. You can put it in any of my posts, on any platform, just put the hashtag of the game in the comments to me know that you need me to follow the link - I don’t follow the links in the comments without any reason))
By the way, you can post your tasks under this hashtag, creating your own circles of players.
So, everyone who is lonely - unite))

#I_am_here_eternity

That's the tale

#Hi_from_reality
Art&concept by Ol Albireo
Feel free to write your stories
and name arts.
You also can do not only write, but draw, sing, create music and sculptures.


Nastenka was sitting in her crystal room, surrounded by snowflakes and snow maidens, now she had girlfriends. In the palace of Inget and Viskola life was in full swing. On New Year's Eve, the inhabitants of the palace - snowflakes, snowmen, talking magical animals, snow maidens, New Year boys, winds and winters, snows and rivers, mavkas and mermaids, goblins and others - prepared a list of miracles for those who deserved them. Sometimes they came across among people, but rarely, more often among spirits and other fairy people, often among fairy-tale heroes who were slandered by writers who took up their story, but fell into their grievances and fantasies.
It was jolley for Nastenka among the fairy people. She only missed May, time by time she would look in the magic mirror to see what he was doing. And ashamed, and can not look away, looks after him both in the shower and in bed. Nastenka consoled herself that she was considered dead, and the dead have no shame.
Of course, when she was not alone, she did not look into the magic mirror. And, in general, she didn’t tell anyone about May, her mother only knew, well, Inget, of course, her named father.
The West Wind blew into the room.
-Another Snow maiden.
-It's started again! - the girls gasped discordantly and ran to look at the new one.
Nastenka went as well.
Inget stood in front of the weeping frightened Marfa.
-Well, what are you crying, silly girl?
-No one needs me! - Martha howled.
-How old are you? Why you couldn't find someone to your age who would want to do business with you. Or what, you are so much bad?
-What did I do? It's not my fault that no one wanted to hang out with me?
-Well, don’t talk that, - Inget grinned, - have you heard about Grandfather Frost, good children and bad children? Grandfather Frost knows everything. I know how you ruined your sister's things.
-She is not my sister! -Martha yelled nervously.
-Well, she is not a sister, but could become her, eh? Nastenka's temperament is meek. And you couldn't even handle her. Well, right, you will live as a Snow Maiden, and you will learn. Eternity is long. And you have nothing to do among the people, you do not know how to be a human.

That's the tale, AlbireoMKG

Новое задание

#Hi_from_reality
art by Ol Albireo
Не стесняйтесь писать свои истории
и давать артам свои названия. Так же, можете не только писать истории, но и рисовать свои арты, сочинять музыку, делать игрушки, пилить лобзиком и царапать гвоздиком. И нам покажите, что получилось)

Новая планета, а значит, и новая принцесса, и новая жизнь, новая, возможно, семья, друзья. Все сначала. Нар налил себе кофе и глотнул насыщенную бодрящую жидкость. Выбрать можно было кофе любого вида, любого сорта, но Еловский любил ненастоящий кофе - желудевый.
-Ну что ж, друг, пора работать, - сказал он уже губами андроида 8541-М, который шагнул из пространственного пролома на недавно открытую планету.

I would never

141.List 24 things you will never do. Why?

Night of the Spirits

#Hi_from_reality
Art&concept by Ol Albireo
Feel free to write your stories
and name arts.
You also can do not only write, but draw, sing, create music and sculptures.


And then a tall thin warrior stood up. His face, like many others', was hidden under a shamakh. He held out his palms and began silently reciting the incantation. A whirlwind of light appeared in the air, there was a loud roar, it smelled of heat, a face gathered from wisps of light and rushed towards the audience with a cry. But the whirlwind pulled the face back in and the whirlwind disappeared.
The next to come out was a graceful warrior, his eyes were also not covered with a cloth. It was clear from her voice that it was a woman.
-Pass the sauce,- a woman from a nearby rug whispered to Saladdin, pointing to a jug on his rug.
Salah started up, carried away by what was happening, thoughtlessly going to fulfill the request. "Don't talk to each other and don't ask each other for anything," interfered warning flashed into his mind. Saladdin slowly turned to the woman and stared at her.
-Sauce,- the woman smiled, pointing to the jug, holding out her hand so deftly that it seemed completely impolite not to serve it.
Light green eyes laughed, and the face was covered with a dark cloth, like almost all children of the sand.
Saladdin remained silent in concentration, looking at the woman, making no attempt to move. He might have looked at her reproachfully, but he was too interested in what would happen next, and he waited.
The woman's face contorted, she quickly and smoothly leaned towards Saladdin, opening her mouth so that it became visible from behind the bandage, but the power of the spell that the reader completed pulled her and several other spirits from the carpets into the sky. Discordant astonished sighs were heard from the guests.
The next caster was quite young. After his spell, the spirits of the desert rose before the eyes of the audience, as if the sand came to life. Luminous in the light of the moon, the silhouettes looked towards the people, their eyes shone in different colors. And although, apart from the spell of the reader, it was quiet in the desert, it seemed that a quiet, sad and solemn melody was playing. The desert spirits looked frightening. It seemed that if this whole army rushed at the people, then the poor people would not be able to cope.
Frey wanted to pull Iska closer to him, but during the spell it was impossible, so he just moved a little closer to him.
The reader finished reading the spell, and the sinister army just silently disappeared.
There were many readers, and it was amazing how many different invisible creatures live here. Several times the spirits tried to deceive people - to give something, to ask for something. Roshach warned the reciters several times between speeches not to talk to each other during the speech and not to fulfill any requests.
Roshach stepped onto the platform, the children of the sand hummed.
-Now they will conjure the genie of dreams,- said Kamal to the children from the palace.
-He is very dangerous,-Fadva said, -he takes on the appearance of a familiar person, feeds on feelings.
Take everythingl, AlbireoMKG

Дожить до

#Hi_from_reality
art by Ol Albireo
Не стесняйтесь писать свои истории
и давать артам свои названия. Так же, можете не только писать истории, но и рисовать свои арты, сочинять музыку, делать игрушки, пилить лобзиком и царапать гвоздиком. И нам покажите, что получилось)

С каждой новой планетой, Катана сверкал все ярче, делясь силами с остальной командой, и с теми армиями, которые ждали его на планете. Он становился все сильнее и счастливее. Оставляя планету, он оставлял и признание в любви своему миру. И жители, на очищенных планетах шли отдыхать или приводить в порядок то, что могли, и те, кто мог. Теперь некому им было мешать строить все так, как хотел Катана, а значит, и они.
Столичная планета, опьяненная радостью, тоже пыталась приводить себя в порядок, упоенно бросала все незаконченным. Жителям нужен был долгий вздох облегчения, праздник отдыха. Они пытались работать, делать свои дела, но наслаждение радостью отвлекало, и они негласно позволяли друг другу вдумчиво впитывать удовольствие. Они все успеют. Попозже. Сейчас бы оглядеться, подумать. Осознать, наконец, что произошло. Некоторые просто касались предметов или земли, непонятно чему радостно смеясь.

Я здесь. АльбиреоМКГ

Difficult decisions

140.Recall the most difficult decision you had to make. What did it lead to?
#I_am_here_eternity

From Andrew's penultimate story "Carbon"

#Hi_from_reality
Art&concept by Ol Albireo
Feel free to write your stories
and name arts.
You also can do not only write, but draw, sing, create music and sculptures.


He answered like he always does, just his own brand of sandpaper growl, to
let me know the channel was open. Rasp didn’t get his name from his voice. A
rasp is a harsh file, and he’d been very good with one.
“I’m hunting,” I told him.
»»»
“No name. No description. Just a pattern.”
»»»
Then I told him what I had.
He was offline for a few minutes. The hum didn’t change, so I left the
connection open.
“The guy you want is Sonar,” he harshed out.
“Sonar?” I said, to make certain I’d gotten the pronunciation right.
“Yesss....” he gave it a couple of beats, then: “Sonar. He hears everything.”
In the Sector, there’s no such thing as privacy, only little nodules of dead air.
Hovering, quiet as a crop duster’s clouds. Sonar wouldn’t be easy to run down—
anyone looking for him wouldn’t ever be the only one.
There’s no privacy in prison, either. A murky aquarium with no shortage of
sharks. Plenty of remora, too, but no danger from any of their kind. In that
ocean, only the moray eels are feared.
I’d studied, and I’d learned. Metaphysics and kinetics, book and body. Then
the test beds: humans. To survive, to keep proving-in, to earn. To stay honed.
So when I found Sonar, I traded for what he wanted most. Not gold, a secret
far more valuable: I told him how I’d found him.
Not the truth, of course. But a good enough story to ensure that he’d contact
Rasp when he found a new spot to listen from.

Carbon, Andrew Wachss, translated by AlbireoMKG