Microstories

Dive into my microworlds, 1 minute at a time.

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History is Important

In a not so distant future

A machine is invented

It can fulfill every sexual desire you ever had

Think about, any single fantasy, any single weird dream, any single fetish

You ever had

Will be completely fulfilled.

It’s a weird mechanism, but it works

In a way that I could not explain you at this level of thought

It will get you everything you need

In extreme details

It will manage the encounters, 3D print the toys, everything

It will even find or create clones of your persons of choice, if needed.

The only thing this machines will need

Is your Google search history

For the pornographic material you consumed

Up until now.

 

Really hope you haven’t deleted it 😉

The Sour Cherry Soup

There was, one day, a Sour Cherry Soup that was so delicious, that everybody who ate it did instantly reach the Nirvana, and all their sins were instantly purified.

People were going crazy about it.

It was a pink soup, made of sour cherries, but actually it was so much more. Famous cosplayers were buying gallons, to fill their bathtub and bathe in it. Some people were using it as an aphrodisiac, both orally and topically. It was everybody’s favourite dessert, and everybody’s favourite soup.

What was really great about it? Well, you clearly haven’t tried it yet, otherwise you wouldn’t ask such a silly question 🙂

The Hidden Poison

There was a time where people were majestic beings, flying, powerful, serene, glorious, and free. They were born laughing, instead of crying, and they didn’t need to consume foods, nor to have jobs, nor to restore their bodies through sleep. Their life lasted centuries.

In those times, everything was flowing so smoothly. Everybody knew everything about the world, everybody was perfectly aligned with the true nature of the cosmos. The arts were flourishing, consciousness was clear, abundantly creating.

How did we reach this state of misery? Now, the children are born crying, and life is but a constellation of suffering, and lack. What did happen to our glorious ancestors?

There is a hidden poison, a vicious substance, which pervades us all in every moment, this one included. It clogs our veins and hinders our nervous connectivity. This poison made us what we are, forcing us to feed each other and consequently to force each other to work for each other until exhaustion. It made us disconnected and enslaved, to food that we stopped appreciating, to traditions that we no longer comprehend.

There is an antidote, and it is hidden in a palace. This palace has 9 doors, but 2 of them are always blocked. To gain access to this palace, we must build 2 bridges, gather the 7 keys. From the palace, we can access the antidote, make it flow in our own body, and only then proceed to administer it to others.

If this task will not be accomplished, the human lifespan will shrink, and the bodies will further degrade, needing progressively more food, progressively more medicines, descending for eternity into the abyss of misery and pain…

Nobody knows the existence of this poison, for this poison is ignorance itself.

Princess Moonwhite

In a verdant and sunny kingdom near the hills and near the sea, in a charming town of white houses with red roofs, in the castle located at the top of the highest point of the plateau, inside the highest tower, lived a beautiful princess called Moonwhite.

Moonwhite woke up every morning together with the rays of the sun and the melodies of the nightingales, smiling. She changed clothes, assisted by her numerous handmaids, and washed her face with the purest source water, collected directly from the point closest to the source of the highest mountain on the continent, especially for her, from the citizens of the kingdom.

For breakfast, nectars of the finest fruits were selected every day of the week, chosen for her by the best farmers in the region, sometimes picked from trees as old as rocks, and sometimes from tiny bonsai of berries, young and bright as the Spring.

During the day, she only drank drops of dew, purified and filtered, and her delicious salads were seasoned exclusively with tears of white squirrel (tears of joy, of course) and some primitive black algae oil, hand-picked from the deepest and most dangerous regions of the ocean, and squeezed at the moment in a mill.

In the evening, before going to bed in her sumptuous alcove, soft as the clouds and overflowing with drapes and cushions of every color, shape, and size, she immersed herself in a bath of wild golden almond milk from the south-eastern desert region, garnished with soaps and lotions of every kind, from the highly prized dwarf coconut extracts of the blue islands, to the sacred healing and aromatic herbs of the monks of the mountains, such as the very rare Alpine Polar Star…

(continues…)

Cover image by neko_insonnia

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