Synopsis
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Voir le profilO tempo leva tudo. O que você quer e o que não. O tempo leva tudo. O tempo arrasa tudo. E, no final, só resta a escurid&...
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And there you have it, beautiful gallery. Everything is good? Here's another short story (yes, I write A LOT of short stories) "An Email from My Daughter's Killer". I know you must be very curious to know what the hell is in the email, but first I have some warnings to give: ➪ It is completely forbidden to copy partial or full of this story. ➪ The story features explicit violence at times, so read at your own risk ;) ➪ Tale II from the collection "Apotheosis".
Statistiques de l'histoire
Fiche technique & mises à jour
Première publication
5 de dezembro de 2016
Dernière mise à jour
5 de dezembro de 2016
Statut éditorial
Terminée
Langue
Português (Brasil)
Collections de lecteurs présentant cette histoire :
Mr. Lecter
+16•8 021 mots•Hannibal•Action•Drame•Mystère•Romance•Suspense•Horreur
Glass Girl
+16•2 220 mots•Histórias originais•Drame•Mystère•Suspense•Tragédie•Horreur
Emily22 is typing...
+14•906 mots•Histórias originais•Mystère•Suspense•Horreur•Amitié
Annabelle
+16•1 102 mots•Histórias originais•Fantaisie•Mystère•Suspense•Terreur•Horreur
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She danced, with smooth, choreographed twirls. Michael watched her. She danced with her arms outstretched, moving slowly, attracting attention. Michael watched her. She danced, and her body seemed to take on a life of its own apart. Michael watched her. Now she glows, eerily glorious. Michael cries. And the audience, once enthralled by the film, now kills itself. She dances...
emily22 joined the conversation. you joined the conversation. emily22 is typing… emily22: I still don't know exactly what happened… emily22: All I know is there was someone out there in my garden. emily22: And his hands were shaking, smeared with wet earth; emily22: And blood was dripping from his long fingers... emily22 is typing... emily22: Now, he's breaking down the back door. emily22: I'm afraid of what he's going to do... emily22 left the conversation.
Nicolas has always been a difficult child to keep up with. At five years old, he has energy to spare, an appetite that seems endless, and a collection of questions that his mother doesn't always know how to answer. Lately, however, some things have begun to worry Jaqueline. Her son complains of pains that no one can explain, spends restless nights, and displays behaviors that are increasingly difficult to understand. Between appointments, tests, and medical recommendations, she tries to find an explanation. When an incident in a class leaves another child seriously injured, Jaqueline begins to fear that she is missing something important. She just doesn't imagine how right she is.
Clara dá aulas de português para estrangeiros e faz magia desde pequena. Joana só sabe da primeira parte. Até aparecer para um café dizendo que visitou a escola onde a amiga trabalha, numa cidade que não aparece no mapa. A primeira pista está num material didático: alguém está ensinando pessoas comuns a encontrar lugares mágicos sem explicar o que vão descobrir. Os percursos levam a uma biblioteca fechada, documentos alterados e moradores que não querem ver suas casas transformadas em cenário de exercício. Com a confiança da amiga abalada, Clara precisa descobrir quem está distribuindo aquelas instruções e por quê. E explicar há quanto tempo vinha deixando Joana do lado de fora.
A photography student opens a metal box forgotten at the back of his grandfather's closet. Inside: old negatives, notebooks his grandfather never let anyone read, a sheet music dedicated to someone no one in the family knows, and a little red beanie that, after thirteen years stored away, is still warm. The grandfather can no longer travel. The answers stayed in the North, in a village that may not even exist anymore. So the grandson goes in his place, in the middle of the Círio de Nazaré, with a camera, a best friend who refuses to stay home, and the feeling that some photos hold more than they show. Twelve photos. Eleven empty places. And what was left out of the frame.
For years, Lídia Sampaio considered the dogs of Jacarandás Street an assault on civilized coexistence. So when a morning dawns without a single bark, her first reaction is gratitude. The gratitude, however, does not last long. In Vila Olaria, animals begin to disappear, inexplicable marks appear on the walls, and certain houses begin to harbor spaces that should never exist. While the residents seek explanations reasonable enough to continue their routines, Lídia discovers that there are far worse inconveniences than a noisy neighborhood. Between supernatural horror, everyday absurdity, and the melancholy of small absences, the tale investigates what we have learned to ignore, especially when its warnings blend with the usual noises of life.







