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Ovidiu Bufnila
Newbie
Joined: 23 Aug 2004
Posts: 8
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 Posted: Mon Aug 23, 2004 4:38 am
Post subject: Topic Science Fiction/DOSGAMES EDITION |
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Topic Science Fiction is the first SF waving magazin in the world wich is posted in the forums of the digital ocean.
Hi!
Ovidiu Bufnila
Romanian SF writer
I invit to:
The Darkness On The Other Side
by Marius DAMIAN
Dark. Cold.
Food once a day, some pieces of bread in a cold soup.
Water none at all. Only what i get in the soup.
Cold. Very cold.
The walls are cold and slimy at the touch. I'm trying to explore the room through the pitch darkness, my eyes closed. At least this way I can have the illusion of creating the gloom myself. I'll go crazy if I open them. I'd better keep them closed. Maybe tomorrow... Or maybe today? I don't even know how many days have passed since i got here. Or weeks? I'm counting the moments in my mind, dividing them into minutes, the minutes into hours, hours into days, but i lose track. I don't know anymore...
The door opens suddenly. I knew it was there, I've felt it when I was touching the walls. It's just as cold as the rest. Frozen metal. When I first touched it, I scratched myself with something and I could feel the blood coming out. Whatever, it doesn't matter. The light outside is scratching my retina, making me blink a lot. I'm covering my eyes. I can't bear the light anymore. Could it have possibly been that long?
I can feel my arms being grabbed, myself dragged down a long corridor and some endless stairs. My legs hit the steps. They hurt. But getting hurt is better than darkness. The guards have put me down. I'm in a large room with strong white lights. I'm trying to get my eyes open. They're shedding lots of tears. I manage to open them for a few seconds. All I see is white. All over the place. I hear the door shutting. I stay down, lying on the floor.
The silence is killing me. I can't hear a thing and I feel the silence pressing down on my brain. I'm trying to sing. Anything I can remember. I'm singing aloud, shouting. They might hear me. So what? I don't care. I can keep my eyes open now. I'm happy. I'm looking around the room. It's empty. All except one place on a wall, one black spot. I'm getting closer to it. I start touching the wall. There's a hole in the wall. No!
I don't want to remember anything about the blackness, the dark and the cold back there. I'm sitting down, my back against the wall. It's nice and warm in here. I'm really thankful towards my guards. I got rid of the cold. And there's light. But it's all so white...
I close my eyes and try to sleep. I can feel a soft breeze coming through the wall next to me. Cold. I move away to the other side of the room. Close to the door. So I'll be ready.
The door opens suddenly. I knew it was there. I could see it. A guard comes in, leaving me the same plate of soup. I eat it, then leave it by the door. I'm thinking. Counting again. But what's it worth, after all? Whatever, it doesn't matter. The wound on my hand is almost completely healed. A thin crust has covered it. I'm happy now. I start singing again. And shouting. And howling. I'm tired. I let myself fall to the floor and cry. A lot. Don't know why. But i know it's the only way. I settle down after a while. I fall asleep.
I'm starting to explore the walls today. Slowly, there's no hurry. I'm touching them with my fingers. The walls are warm and soft. I wish I could write. There's nothing to write with. I'll ask the guards.
I've asked them. They gave me nothing. They cut my daily ration as a punishment. I won't ask them for anything from now on. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. I'm hot. I fall asleep, thinking of the darkness on the other side. It was cooler back there...
I'm approaching the black eye once again today. It's the only interesting thing in the whole room. I'm trying to look through it. It's black, blacker than the night. If I hadn't felt the soft breeze, i would have believed it to be a mere black spot. It isn't. It's a whole in the wall. I know it. I checked it out myself. With my fingers. The edges are absolutely moist. I manage to get my hand inside. It's the same. Moist. Just a bit colder than the white walls. I can feel the coolness. I'm sitting next to the black hole, breathing the cool air. It's getting hotter and hotter. Why have they moved me here?
The door opens suddenly. I get my plate. I take it and empty it immediately. I love my guards. I'm happy when they bring me my plate. I know now. A day is the time between two plates. It's good. But it's very hot. Why?
The black eye is drawing me towards it. I'm approaching it again. I carefully get my arm inside. Just the hand, for now. It's good. Nothing happens. I'll go on tomorrow.
I tried to reach the end of the hole today. I couldn't do it. I got my whole arm inside. No use. It's the same. Moist, colder than the room. Where it keeps getting hotter. I feel like I can't breathe. The air is hot. I'm sitting next to the black eye, breathing the soft breeze. I'm thinking of the darkness on the other side. It was so good! I'll tell them to take me back. Tomorrow I'll ask them to move me back!
I've asked them. They gave me nothing. They cut my daily ration as a punishment. I won't ask them for anything from now on. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. I'm hot. I fall asleep, thinking of the darkness on the other side. It was cooler back there. It was good...
I'm looking at the black eye. I feel it looking back at me. I'm trying to focus. If only I could get smaller, maybe I'd manage to get in there. The heat inside the room is flooding my brain. Boiling.
I know. I'm gonna make it. From today on I'll stop eating anything. The heat inside the room will do the rest. I won't approach the black eye anymore. Not until I'm ready. Not until I'll make it. I must make it.
The darkness on the other side is waiting for me.
14.08.2003
translated on 03.09.2003 from Romanian by Bogdan Gheorghiu aka UnSlayne
Marius Damian
Editor sef AVANGARDA http://www.avangarda.bn.ro
Membru NUFIC http://www.nufic.go.ro
Editor TOPIC SF http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Topic_Science_Fiction/ |
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Ovidiu Bufnila
Newbie
Joined: 23 Aug 2004
Posts: 8
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| Posted: Mon Aug 23, 2004 4:39 am
Post subject: Kumango |
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KUMANGO
Short story SF
by Ovidiu Bufnila
“My name is Magicien! And who are you, punk? Are you the pathetic wise man from Takla Makan? Is it you who are withstanding the priestess Enciclope? What? Do you not believe in the imminent discovery of the secret of the solar worlds? That is why I left my narrative structure, dummy, to clear you up. It is not the politicians who get things done around here, on Terra Encylopedica. Neither do the demons, nor the motor- bikers from hell. Not even the anarchists. The things are spun by the virtual whirlpools and by magnetic fields. Do you know what is a fifth degree utopia, dummy? Or maybe you’re a determined Euclidean fan? I, Magicien, can unveil for you the mystery of the worlds, not the one of the laws; they do not really exist, as they are nonsense”. That is how Magicien whispered in the ear of Azgozbanian Azgoban, the first physicist of Klemuria. Of course, the wise man rushed right to the Interpol, then to FBI and to United States where he made a complaint against Magicien, this fabulous figure who came out of a free and independent imagination. The American encyclopedists looked for Azgoban and invited him in a live TV show by WorldNet while ECOLON - the main electronic watcher taped everything that the cells of Azgoban whispered. His cells split with laughter during all the show, because it was only them that knew the terrible truth of all the worlds. And the truth is that poor bodies are nothing but huge containers in which the free states of the consciousness are transferred to lower energy levels so that they might be protected of the pressure of magnetic fields. The one who deals with such fascinating things and the way he actually does it, is a matter of galactic security. “I, Kumango, am the conductor of this cosmic ballet. Who am I? What do you mean “who am I?” I am your ringleader, you fool, I rule this bloody stellar barracks that you’re calling galaxy. That is it! Go to work earth people, look, the pressure is going down and the rollers are stopping! What do you mean which rollers? It is those things in which we chop all the meat of the moribund species to make meatballs out of it, for the feasts of the big guys of the Universe”. “Magicien? No, he is a jerk, a conjurer who wants to ease you of your purse. He is not an illusionist. He is the chef who will cook a pie à la New York Encyclopedicus out of your flesh, you morons”.
Translated by Ioana Bostan |
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Ovidiu Bufnila
Newbie
Joined: 23 Aug 2004
Posts: 8
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| Posted: Mon Aug 23, 2004 6:27 am
Post subject: Matei Donea |
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I invite you in the Matei Donea's wonderful SF digital island :
http://www.sciencefiction.mateidonea.ro/
Ovidiu Bufnila
editor in chief
Topic Science Fiction |
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Ovidiu Bufnila
Newbie
Joined: 23 Aug 2004
Posts: 8
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Ovidiu Bufnila
Newbie
Joined: 23 Aug 2004
Posts: 8
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Ovidiu Bufnila
Newbie
Joined: 23 Aug 2004
Posts: 8
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| Back to top |
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Ovidiu Bufnila
Newbie
Joined: 23 Aug 2004
Posts: 8
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| Back to top |
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Ovidiu Bufnila
Newbie
Joined: 23 Aug 2004
Posts: 8
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