Boxer

Barbara Ann loved to dance. She was born dancing, she lived dancing and she died dancing. The end.

I will regret writing this.

Earthquakes

For my beloved Enry, to make her forgive me and resew the split in her kilt-shaped heart

Once upon a time there was a silly girl who every morning felt an earthquake. Her friends made fun of her, but they didn't know that those earthquakes were real. The problem was that she was the only one who could feel them, because they were the result of a spell.

Actually, a long time before a sunflower fell in love with her, but as it could not speak and declare its love, he was desperate. The Sun, moved by the sad situation of his son, prayed a witch to cast a spell on the girl and make her understand she was loved. Unluckily, that witch was a little clumsy and wasn't able to do pwoper (tribute to Mattew Bellamy) magic, so she cast a spell that would make the girl feel an earthquake every morning.

One day, the girl was walking along a field full of sunflowers when she suddenly felt a very strong earthquake. Strangely, she was not afraid. She began looking for the epicentre and she noticed that it seemed to come from the only sunflower which was looking at her and not at the sun. Charmed by that bizarre fact, she took the sunflower and planted it on her window.

The sunflower and the girl lived happily ever after, protecting each other even if she never knew about its love.

Silly story for a silly girl :)

Chris

A long long time ago, when giraffes had short necks and zebras were à pois, there was a gentle cowboy who just loved three things: being alone, playing his violin and riding his horse.

He played his violin every evening, inspired by the countless stars and the fire. His horse listened, waving his heavy head slowly and murmuring horses' ancient songs until he fell asleep. 

There were times in which the cowboy remembered  when he was young and brave and her name was always in his mind. But those times were gone, she was gone, and all that he could do now was riding and playing sad songs. He didn't even have any friends and couldn't do all the cool things every cowboy liked to do, like getting drunk at the saloon or duel with his magical guns. Actually he hadn't any guns. He was too gentle to kill somebody. 

His name was Chris.

One dry day he was exploring a new territory when he suddenly saw a canyon on his right. It was dark and unnerving, but he was a cowboy, after all, and didn't feel fear, so he decided to go through it. His horse tried to warn him of the dangers hidden in the dark, but Chris didn't understand the horses' language and went on.

After some minutes he was surronded by a cold mist and he felt a presence on his side. It was a pale, skinny, old man who wore a dirty poncho, so ragged that its coulors had vanished, substituted by that of the dust.

"Cowboy" said the man "There were three of us, three".

Chris was puzzled and speechless. He stared at the man, motionless.

"There were three of us. We only had one bullet. Three men and only one bullet. What would you do if you were three, with one bullet, and you were surronded by ghosts?"

Chris stayed perfectly still.

"Three. And one bullet." The old man stayed silent for some minutes, as if he was trying to recall some distant and faded memories. 

"You can't kill what's dead. Dead men tell no tales. Oh no! They told tales. They told us tales that would have made babies blind and blood stop in women's veins. Terrible legends. We were three. And we had one bullet. Just one. The first was Hugh. He begged to be killed with a stone. Oh, the cries he made when we thrusted a rock into his belly! Then it was Bob's turn. He went mad. "I hear their stories, I hear them. My heart is freezing!" he kept saying while he cut his ears. I strangled him. And then I was the only one left. Me and the ghosts."

Chris began to be filled with terror.

"There were only three of us. And just one bullet".

Then the man walked slowly away from our beloved cowboy and disappeared into the fog.

Chris continued his journey along the misterious canyon. He was disturbed no more, but at a certain moment he was sure he had seen three skeletons on his left side. One wore an old poncho. "Only one bullet" heard Chris.

When he emerged from the fog, a zebra à pois crossed his way.

http://it.youtube.com/watch?v=yVT4zDs8iTU