The heart collector

[Rikochet]

Δεν ξέρω κάτα πόσο έχει νόημα το παρακάτω κείμενο. Υποθέτω ότι αν κάποιος ψάξει, όλο και κάτι θα βρεί. Είναι περισσότερο διάφορες εικόνες που στοιχειώνουν τον ύπνο μου τελευταία, και φαίνεται πως είχα ανάγκη να τις βάλω σε μια υποτυπώδη τάξη.

 

---

 

"Stay."

 

A simple word, spoken from beautiful, soft lips.

 

Stholl would have stayed, if not for the light covering him, the woman next to him, who now was clutching tentatively his hand, and the whole room. Bathing all of them with an unnatural warmth.

 

With a faint smile, he turned away and the woman was left alone. The light had gone with him.

 

*

 

Wherever he was, the light was with him. Was it following him, or his body was its source, he did not know. But it had a way of making him view things from a different angle; one where everything seemed distant and slow, so he had time enough to react the best way possible.

 

Under the light's warmth, he never stressed. He felt he had all the time in the world, and perhaps it was so.

 

The world moves, people move, events flow like streams, and all are drawn away by time.

 

Stholl knew his thoughts to be true; he was reassured every day.

 

Then why do I feel like an island in this chaotic sea of links and joints and cracks?

 

He was sure the light had something to do with that, too.

 

*

 

The neon signs surrounding him seemed too weak, too cheap. These are the lights of show, of effect. Mine is the light of truth.

 

Strangely serene, despite the hubbub of the streets, he would walk. There were many of them, each one leading to a different destination, yet they all were same under Stholl's gaze. There are far too many shadows in this city. I shall walk in and come out from any single one of them. Unharmed.

 

*

 

Only after what must have been a hundred streets and a thousand shadows, Stholl stopped. Something was wrong. The light told him so.

 

He wasn't so surprised that, after the warning, he no longer felt calm or warm or sure of himself. The light had abandoned him for the moment.

 

Then, in a sudden rush of sentiments and thoughts, he leaned onto a wall, and yawned.

 

Whatever it may be, let it come. I am not human, bloodborn and weak. This is not my world. These are not the laws that will confine me. I do not falter. I shall not falter. Let it come.

Edited November 9, 2005 by Nihilio

[Oberon]

Noμίζω πως έχει νόημα. Και μάλιστα είναι μια ωραία περιπλάνηση. Το γεγονός πως αναφέρεις το όνομα του Stholl που ακούγεται τόσο εξωτικό από την αρχή-αρχή λειτουργεί βέβαια κάπως σαν spoiler, ενώ τα υπόλοιπα λόγια και σκέψεις μοιάζουν τόσο ανθρώπινα, παρά το εξωκόσμιο φως και την όλη απόκοσμη αίσθηση. Μ'άρεσε η μοναξιά που δεν είναι ακριβώς μοναξιά που φαίνεται συνέχεια μέσα στο κείμενο. Παράξενη αντίθεση αυτή.

Θα προτιμούσα δηλαδή, ή μάλλον θα μου φαινόταν πιο "δραματικό" αν μαθαίναμε ΚΑΙ το όνομα του χαρακτήρα στην τελευταία φράση.

Edited November 6, 2005 by Dain

[Sonya]

Σου έχω πει πολλάκις τη γνώμη μου για τα κείμενά σου...

 

Αυτό εδώ μου "ακούγεται" σαν ένα ανέμελο σφύριγμα την ώρα που έρχεται το τέλος του κόσμου. Όλα χάνονται, καταστρέφονται κι ο πρωταγωνιστής σιγοτραγουδά "don't worry, be happy". Τι να πω, αγόρι μου... ό,τι και να πω, λίγο θα 'ναι.

[Nienna]

Φυσικά και έχει νόημα, έχει μάλιστα πολλά εναλλακτικά, διαλέγει κανείς και παίρνει. Μπορεί να το εκλάβει κανείς ως μια καθ' όλα ονειρική εμπειρία, μπορεί να το δει σαν συμβολισμό, σαν αλληγορία... Το βλέπεις στον ύπνο σου είπες; Ε, αυτό εξηγεί πολλά. Έχω νοιώσει παρόμοια ξύπνια, για ενάμισι μήνα. Διαολεμένα παρόμοια. Ακριβώς αυτό που λέει ο Dain, μοναξιά που δεν είναι μοναξιά. Εκείνο το συναίσθημα που μοιάζει πάρα πολύ με μοναξιά, αλλά διαφέρει στο φως που ανέφερες...

 

Κάθε φορά καταφέρνεις να μιλάς για τα πράγματα που οι άνθρωποι σπανίως μιλούν μεταξύ τους - και μάλιστα επιλέγεις γωνίες κατάλληλες, γωνίες που κάνουν το κείμενό σου να τρυπώνει από ρωγμές στους τόιχους μέσα στους ανθρώπους, χωρίς να χρειαστεί να του ανοίξουν την πόρτα. Μπράβο.

 

Τεχνικούρες:

 

Stholl would have stayed, if not for the light covering him, the woman next to him, who now was clutching tentatively his hand, and the whole room. Bathing all of them with an unnatural warmth.

 

Νομίζω πως θέλει ένα for πριν το "the woman". Αν κάνω λάθος πες μου.

 

Under the light's warmth, he never stressed.

 

Μπορεί να κάνω και λάθος αλλά δεν θέλει ένα was πριν το "never";

[Rikochet]

Light

 

"You will cease your targeting me with this gun. Now." A cold voice, it made the poorly-dressed thug shiver. His gun-hand trembled. The seconds it took him to look around, the man he had been targeting came next to him with one fluent move.

 

The thug caught a glimpse of the man's head, his angular chin, his trimmed beard. Then the stranger's arms grasped his armed one. The crack of splintered bone followed, then the thug fell on his knees and passed out, and the bald man stood unopposed.

 

"Stholl. It seems that everytime you exit a place like this, something bad will happen" called a voice behind him. He turned, and saw a woman dressed in a long, black dress. Beautiful, like many of her kind, Stholl thought.

 

"Lucretia. It seems that wherever I go you will come out from nowhere and address me like you know who or what I am" he said, with a voice devoid of colour.

 

"Well well, and where's that... light of yours? Or have you, finally, achieved your goal?" She was smiling seductively now.

 

"I cannot see why you are so concerned-"

 

"Why, because I love you."

 

A few moments passed before these words registered in his mind. He then walked past her, and into the pub.

 

Though Lucretia was alone and cold, she didn't stop smiling.

 

*

 

The air of the pub was thick with smoke, sweat and alcohol. Stholl sat on one of the long-legged stools in front of the bar, and ordered whiskey. It didn't have any effect on him, but the taste was amusing.

 

It was true that the light had gone away, three weeks now. And his life was almost like any ordinary man's. Stholl didn't like that.

 

He lit up a cigarette, and for a few seconds he was lost inside the intricate patterns the smoke formed. They would dissolve almost immediately. He didn't like that also. Strangely enough, he found more comfort with his mind in there than interacting with most people. Especially people like Lucretia.

 

"I love you", says she. As if she knows anything. To hell with her.

 

People like the thug whose arm he broke were simpler. They didn't make him feel regret. They didn't make him feel anything. It was trash to him, this stock of the useless.

 

But, for the moment, neither Lucretia nor any filthy scum was his concern.

 

Tonight I'm after a heart.

 

*

 

A few hours passed. Millions of smoke-patterns transformed into nothing in front of his half-closed lids. His patience has expired.

 

Quickly as he came in, he walked out of the pub. Lucretia was still outside, sitting on the dirty concrete, her knees close to her chest.

 

"I knew you would come" she said. "You always do".

 

"I didn't come for you" he replied, and stared at her chest.

 

"I'm here to take your heart."

Edited November 6, 2005 by Rikochet

[Sonya]

Ενδιαφέρουσα συνέχεια, ενδιαφέρων τύπος. Πριν εγκωμιάσω (γιατί θα εγκωμιάσω ), θέλω κι ένα τρίτο μέρος.

 

Βαριέμαι να σου ξαναπώ πόσο λατρέυω τη γραφή σου...

[Raistlin Majere]

Απιστευτα ενδιαφερον χαρακτηρας αυτος που δημιουργησες. Δεν ξερω αν θα σου αρεσει αυτο που θα διαβασεις αλλα μου θυμιζεις κατι απο Margaret Weis και Moorcock. Το στυλ γραψιματο σου φαινεται απο μιλια μακρυα. Γραφεις πολυ καλα και οπως σου ειπα πρεπει να το συνεχισεις αυτο. Keep it up.

[Nienna]

Ενδιαφέρουσα συνέχεια, αν και το πλέον ξεκάθαρο γεγονός του ότι ο χαρακτήρας δεν υπάρχει περίπτωση να είναι άνθρωπος χαλάει λίγο την πολύτιμη - για μένα - ταύτιση, είχα νοιώσει πολύ κοντά στην αίσθηση που περιέγραφες παρ'όλο που υποψιαζόμουν πως δεν είναι άνθρωπος. Δεν πειράζει όμως, το κάνει αμιγώς fantasy - κι αυτό το παίρνουμε για καλό.

[Nienor]

Είμαι με τη Χριστίνα, θα στα πω στο τέλος μαζεμένα.

[ymeο gamawa]

Γαμημενε Ρικο....

 

 

(ΡΕ! Αν μου το μονταρει κανεις αυτο χωρις την προτροπη του Ρικο θα γινουμε απο δυο χωρια, ξηγηθηκαμε?)

[Rikochet]

Light

Casus Belli

 

---

 

"Aren't you sorry?" she asked, sobbing.

 

"Sorry for what?" Stholl's hands worked deftly above Lucretia.

 

"For pluh-plundering me..." Tears run down her cheeks. They reminded him little transparent caramels. He didn't answer.

 

"You'll fucking regret this!" she cried.

 

"I don't know what regret means."

 

*

 

Right after he removed her heart from her now open chest, he put it in a plastic bag, and called his customer, someone with the name of Jeremiah Longworth. His voice came out in sudden, short bursts. The man's a neurotic.

 

"D'you have it? Th-the heart?"

 

The answer was positive.

 

"Go to the station. I-I'll be there in ten minutes" said Longworth, then the line closed.

 

Stholl took a few steps towards the exit of the alley, then heard a rasping voice.

 

"You... fucker... You cunt..."

 

It was Lucretia. Without even looking at her, Stholl left.

 

*

 

The transaction was brief. Mr. Longworth took the bag, hid it in his own, gave Stholl a pack of dollars, and entered the first train that came after that.

 

*

 

The rained poured on him, trickled down his bald head to his face, then to his chest, dripping his clothes. He liked the feeling. Absent-mindedly, he regarded a few flashes of light, appearing and dissappearing in the sky.

 

Light. Where have you gone?

 

Its absence wasn't so annoying as he had imagined. He felt something that a human would perceive as melancholy.

 

His thoughts wandered back on Lucretia. Lying on her back, with her eyes closed and her chest open, she reminded him of some beautiful blossomed flower. This flower should have withered...

 

...but she still lives. And she's after me. I must kill her. Again.

Edited November 7, 2005 by Rikochet

[Sonya]

You have a fan, boy...

 

Στα τεχνικά, έχεις κάνει μερικά ορθογραφικά-συντακτικά λαθάκια, αλλά προσωπικά δε με απασχολεί. Τ' αφήνω στους άλλους.

 

Δε με νοιάζει τι είδος είναι οι πρωταγωνιστές σου, αν είναι βρυλ ή υπεράνθρωποι, ο Χαϊλάντερ ή το Άλλιεν, γουστάρω το χάος τους, γουστάρω να το νιώθω στο πετσί μου χωρίς να βγάζω νόημα απ' αυτό.

 

Εύγε, Ρίκο, εύγε!

[Nienna]

Όσο πάει θυμίζει περισσότερο comic. Συνεχίζει να μου αρέσει πάρα πολύ. Θα μπορούσε να βάσιστεί ένα υπέροχο comic πάνω του. Το είδος της παράνοιας και του σκοταδιού που αναδύει, είναι από τα αγαπημένα μου. Συνέχισε, θέλω κι άλλο!

[ymeο gamawa]

riko ζητα απο τον Polonoid να σου το εικονογραφησει,, και απο τους static x να γραψουν μουσικη...

 

διορθωσε ενα δυο λαθακια μονο! rained και dripping his... και εισαι κομπλε! παλιοτελεμε!

[Orpheus]

[Θα ήταν καλό να τα περνούσες ένα χτενάκι και τα τρία, έχεις λάθη που μπορείς άνετα να διορθώσεις.]

[Throgos]

Και τα τρία είναι γαμάτα, αλλά μόλις είδα αυτό:

I don't know what regret means

πςςςςςς....με έφτιαξες.

 

Πράγματι, έχει κόμικ αισθητική, πολύ ωραία σύλληψη, πολύ ζωντανή - παλλόμενη - απόδοση.

 

Βελλ Ντάν!

[Isis]

Διάβασα τις τρεις συνέχειες...πραγματικά έντονη η αίσθηση ενός ασπρόμαυρου (αυστηρά) κόμικ, σε ένα background από Sin City με την ένταση ενός μοναχικού πληρωμένου vigilante τύπου Constantine...

 

Δεν περίμενα να μη μου αρέσει! Θα περιμένω μόνο τη συνέχεια!

[Rikochet]

Lucretia tried to hold her innards in the place they were supposed to be. Failing that, she just held her coat tightly around her mutilated torso, and walked up and down the alley.

 

She had been crying for the past two hours.

 

The bastard. The bloody bastard... she thought bitterly.

 

She was shaking uncontrollably. This model of reactions was something new to her; the imitation, amusing. She had first encountered it in some girls, face painted white, nails painted black. Around them pulsed something resembling sadness, yet neither true, nor found in what humans called "soul". Lucretia made it real for them.

 

They must be dead by now.

 

Lucretia's sigh was melancholic. Blood and bile filled her mouth.

 

*

 

Finally.

 

The two of them met in a central highway. Ignoring the traffic, they fully revealed themselves to one another. They flickered in and out of all known (and some unknown) dimensions. They fought; without purpose, directionless. Both of them played with possibilities: The battle would last two minutes, or two years, or two nanoseconds; it made no difference. They toyed with binary, with the source of the world, altering flows and stretching them to their advantage.

 

Like we're in some fucking movie, Stholl thought, and deleted the previous results, bored of them.

 

They ended up in a simple fistfight. Stholl killed her with a punch to the neck, that smashed her jugular.

 

He then shot her twice in the head, point-blank. That should prevent her from following him again. For a few days, at least.

 

*

 

What is I?

 

I was never troubled. Now I am. Why? Am I becoming human?

 

Who was she? She, with the name of a Borgia, the looks of skies. She is like me, I can see that now.

 

But what am I? Reflection of a reflection of a reflection. A good answer. If I was the hero of some fifteen-dollar novel.

 

I promised I shall never falter. But that was a promise under the warmth of my light. Where is my light?

 

I will now travel the streets, end up in some place were I will hear jazz, and contemplate on my tragic nature.

 

Lucretia knew something. That's what made her special. That's what made me kill her.

 

That's what made me extract my thoughts as fucking bold statements.

Edited November 8, 2005 by Rikochet

[Isis]

She had cried for the past two hours.

She had been crying for the past two hours

 

Μια κινηματογραφική προσέγγιση, ένα δυσνόητο κείμενο...Ατμοσφαιρικό πολύ όμως συνεχίζω να έχω απορίες! Ποιοί είναι; γιατί παλεύουν;

 

Έχει συνέχεια σίγουρα...δε μπορώ να το φανταστώ να λήγει εκεί!

[Nienna]

Δεν μου φάνηκε δυσνόητο, μια χαρά ήταν. Μάλιστα είναι πολύ καλύτερο από τα δυο τελευταία, ισάξιο με το πρώτο. Ίσως επειδή τα πράγματα που σαν να είχαν ξεκαθαρίσει αρκετά πριν, αρχίζουν πάλι να περιπλέκονται... Συνέχισε, θέλω κι άλλο!

[ymeο gamawa]

κατι μου θυμιζει απο κλαιβ μπαρκερ το κλιμα... δε μπορω να θυμηθω τον τιτλο αλλα εχει να κανει με το Nilotic, ενα αριχτεκτονα του σπιτιου του κοσμου και δυο πανισχυρα αθανατα πλασματα ενας αντρας και μια γυναικα που μισουν ο ενας τον αλλο και αγαπιουνται ταυτοχρονα!

 

ο ρικο διδασκει. κανει σεμιναρια ατμοσφαιρας και υφους.

[Sonya]

Θα συμφωνήσω με τον Έρικ και θα προσκυνήσω ένα γνήσιο ταλέντο... Συνέχισε, Ρίκο, ο λαός σου απαιτεί κι άλλο!

[tec-goblin]

Όντως πολύ καλό ύφος... Κάποια στιγμή όμως πρέπει να καταλάβουμε πάνω κάτω τι παίζει... Γι'αυτό προχώρα το. ΤΣΑΦ!

[Rikochet]

Time is galloping away like a wild horse. Or something like that.

 

His mood alternated between its highs and lows rapidly, leaving him blank.

 

*

 

Days passed. Months came and went in rapid succesion. Hearts were ripped out of chests; young chests, old chests; chests with hair on them, chests shaved clean; they all succumbed under Stholl's hands. Hearts were put into plastic bags. Money were spent for those pulsing, still-hot hearts.

 

Stholl was good in his craft. What he thought about it: Big deal.

 

*

 

During this time, he witnessed many events. Wondrous to some; dull to him. He saw a woman die in the air before her angel could catch her. He saw a junkie murdering half his neighbourhood and sacrificing them to some unknown god.

 

*

 

Once, he was attacked by a local gang; Stholl had stolen the heart of their leader the night before their... quarell. They were strapping young lads, armed with crowbars and chains and rage. One had even managed to hit his ribs, before Stholl killed him, with a succession of punches to his face-no-more. He had killed the others in a similar way. It got rather messy.

 

Lucretia was nowhere to be seen or heard. Stholl suspected she had found her way. Whatever way a thing like her can find thought he.

 

*

 

Thus came one night, and those are the events that took place in those cold, damp nocturnal hours:

 

Stholl was sitting cross-legged on the terrace of a skyscraper, close to the city's center. Cool air made him remember what shivering felt like. Many hours passed, as he was trying to find some pattern in the clouds. Now and then he could distinguish nebular streams forming impossible angles before they dissappeared. Stholl's smile was the first after a long time.

 

The revelation was sudden. It was also bright, as a waterfall of light descended on him.

 

He unbuttoned his shirt, and traced a path with his hand on his chest. He then reached for his scalpel.

 

*

 

Lucretia, trying to find some comfort, had entered a random house which had been occupied by a pair of women and their adopted son. He killed the two; left the boy as a toy to use for her pleasure in the cold nights that were to come. She passed most hours of the day in the kitchen, reading cheap novels and drinking coffee.

 

*

 

When Stholl paid her a visit, the door was open. Entering, he regarded with cold interest the bloody smuts on the walls. In the living-room was a boy of fifteen. He sat on a sofa, naked with his legs spread open, and examined his cock. He didn't even bother to look at him.

 

Lucretia he found in the kitchen. She jerked when she saw him. He simply held his heart in front of him.

 

"My heart burns..." he said.

 

"What the hell d'you want?" demanded Lucretia. Why doesn't she understand? Stholl thought.

 

The revelation was quite clear. He was just surprised that he hadn't remembered it earlier.

 

"It is yours, mother".

 

She is awestruck... She must have remembered, too!

 

"What nonsense is this? You sick bastard, what are you talking about?" She was more angry than confused.

 

"Are... Are you not my mother?" Stholl asked.

 

"Of course no-- Get the hell out of here!" Lucretia was screaming now.

 

Then I remembered wrong.

 

"Still, I owe you" he said, with a reassuring tone, as if this would make things better, somehow. Leaving his heart on the round table, he left.

 

Lucretia burst into tears again.

 

*

 

Stholl was confused. If she isn't my bloody mother, then who is she?

 

The altering on his personality - or what was left of it, anyway - didn't bother him much. The doctors have warned him, and he had accepted it. In search for a maternal template they would say now, and scratch their chins.

 

He also knew that, from the moment he ripped his heart out, he had started aging backwards. At a rate of one year per hour.

 

He went to the city square, sat on a bench and gazed at the pidgeons.

 

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by light. It made his eyes sore.

 

You're back, he thought.

 

I am indeed, it answered, for the first time since they... met.

 

I need answers, Stholl demanded.

 

Those you shall have not.

 

Can you at least take me away?

 

He never heard the reply - if there was one at all.

 

Stholl burst into particles, and noone ever heard of him again, in this life or another.

 

THE END?

Edited November 9, 2005 by Rikochet

[tec-goblin]

Μάλιστα... Τώρα όλα τα καταλάβαμε

Εντελώς χάος. Από την πόλη έρχομαι... Αλλά συναρπαστικό... Δεν το κάνεις βιβλίο; Θα χρησίμευε εξαιρετικά σαν preview!