ONEHUNDREDPLUS

“That sea, the vast and fathomless expanse of liquid darkness, had deterred even the most valiant of explorers from taking the plunge into its bottomless depths for eons. It was an ageless, forgotten ocean, immortalized in horrific poetry, where infinite stretches of sights disappeared into a foggy flat line. Many a captain had charted their course toward the blind destiny of that small artificial planetoid island, only to lose their lives at the brink of the unexpected sub-particle hurricanes that never followed seasons in any predictable way.

Countless double sunsets and moons merely served as silver glittering reflections for a hope that was forever out of reach, where life and death converged at the desolate attempts to reach that floating Imperial Island. And yet, in the heart of that eternal sea, where no story could ever be retold, a peculiar gathering of sovereign powers was taking place at the formation of a violet twilight. It was the ultimate top-secret assembly, witnessed only by the wind of the east and the seagulls searching for left over flesh.

It was to be the clarion call of change, a proceeding that would instigate dreadful sorrows for the colonial city of Agelessia. 

The flying cubic ship finally alighted on the main platform in pure silence, and Dr. Dereko, clad in his uniform, was greeted by tenants and guards of the highest degree. Long black flags, hooked on tall poles, fluttered on the sides of the landing platform, adding a sense of respect and royal officialism to the dock.”

TRANS GOD

“The child became a woman.

But that initiation ritual was a great failure. From that day on, an imaginary someone appeared from above who observed her and judged her for everything she did or thought. She felt obliged to hide from herself the demerit of that immoral crime. For Menilde, the wild strawberries that grew in the garden’s grass no longer had that same bright red. She felt that from the free butterfly, an impure adult force was born, a dark power capable of doing evil but also hiding a pearl of human wisdom that had yet to be understood or mastered. That new feeling was not a mere emptiness in the stomach like the sense of guilt. It was even more intense: an innocent confusion of curiosity to grow up and be part of a new world that was inevitably imperfect. She didn’t tell her parents the truth; she decided instead to suppress that secret event by pursuing a sequence of long nights of torture infested with her sleepless remorse.

METATRON-1

“Like a cold corpse, the Metatron-1 remained perfectly stationary where it was parked for the whole centennial, completely disregarded by any beings inhabiting the far landscapes or more adjacent areas. Infrequently, a few individuals would come close to investigate the vessel, yet they were illusory phenomena and therefore vanished similarly to how they appeared within a span of one week, persistently following the same weekly time loop cycle.

Now, Emily’s data was entirely merged with that of the spaceship and she thought that her new name was more appropriately Metatron-1 as she could now synch and extend her sensorial settings throughout the whole space-vehicle, and she didn’t need to move much anymore as her ubiquitous data was all gathering within her central computational power, which was now boosted by the spaceship core network.

Metatron-1 was set to wait one hundred years, and she placed a countdown, however the ship’s time was flowing differently if compared with the external environment which was looping every seven days. Diversely, time inside the ship was preserving at least some sort of perceived continuum, with relative precision.”

ALIEN KNOWLEDGE BOMB

“The air trembled with the sound of an otherworldly wail that seemed to disintegrate any trace of reality. It was as if the most horrifying shriek ever unleashed, was itself a living entity, a monstrous thing from beyond hell’s worst torturous pits, and with it came a tempestuous force unlike anything that any survivor had ever experienced. The wind was so strong that it uprooted trees, stones and shattered windows, carrying with it debris and junk that pelted against the tunnel walls with a deafening, death’s roar. Electricity crackled through the air, illuminating the darkness with bright flashes that were as blinding as they were terrifying.

The trucks and cars that had provided some measure of shelter to the people were flung about like toys, tossed aside with reckless abandon by the wrathful winds. Metal crumpled and twisted, tires screeched as the vehicles careened out of control, leaving chaos and destruction in their wake. The survivors clung to each other for their dear life, screaming and crying out in terror as the Nightdrainer cyclone raged on,  unrelenting in its destructive power.”

THE PSYCHOLOADER

“Crossing the threshold into the Greer family’s living room, Michael’s gaze was immediately ensnared by the mesmerizing patterns adorning the carpet beneath his feet. The deep drawings of the carpet were a true indulgence to the senses, as its muted tones of brown and beige added an air of refined elegance to the room, almost hypnotic and soothing for the visitors. Indeed, he had always felt, entering in that room, a mysterious calm spreading over him, especially as he gazed upon the texture, where his mind wandered and shifted far away to reach the devilish carpets he had seen in casinos. Though also intricately designed, the floors in those busy establishments were intended to confuse and disorient the visitors with their bright colours and dizzying patterns, leading them into a state of gambling-induced hypnosis. But he felt very at ease with the Greers, who perhaps were gambling with their own life. As he approached the sofa, he gently surveyed the walls, he stared along the wallpaper adorned with large floral designs in shades of pink and green, they imparted a sense of lush opulence that could transport one away from the monotony of daily life. Adorning the walls were numerous photo frames, each filled with images of the Greer family in various stages of life, their gilded edges contributing to the pervasive sense of heritage and tradition that suffused the room.

Michael’s curious nature was always fully aroused in that house, he was used to examine every small detail of the room. It was as if he had embarked on a mission to unravel the family’s psychological traits.”