Tao Bunny

The die is cast

Vaso — Sat, 14 Jun 2025 06:51:21 GMT

I was nervous. That was weird, I’ve met Kelara countless times. We’ve spat, fought, made love, cried, I’ve even told her a couple of times who I really was. If there is one person in all of existence, one constant in my never-ending torment, it was her, a brief brightness in the void. Yet I was nervous. This meeting wasn’t going to be like the others. From the shadows, I’ve been cultivating her from early age. This time she needed to grow compassionate and caring, a feat for someone that if history would ever remember, she’d be the ultimate monster. I was nervous, doubt was creeping its ugly head. I hadn’t felt that way for literally ages. It was weird and I was nervous.

The moment was drawing near. I had planned what to say, what to do. It rang hollow in my head. I despised deceit. That never stopped me. It wasn’t going to stop me now. I am a person stitched by endeavors and notions I dislike at best. That thought was calming. I’ve been a monster for a long time, one, or a thousand more sins couldn’t possibly damn me more than I already am.

I clutched the cane, all part of the role I was to play – the frail old wiseman. Age didn’t suite me at all, vain as I was. The woolen clothes were itchy, the hat hardly fit me, alas discomfort was part of the game. At least these inconveniences were occupying my mind.

Kelara was near and the time to act was at hand. I climbed down the tree on which I had been sitting on. As soon as I stepped on the soft forest floor I saw her. Kelara was in her twenties, had just found the ruins of her home city, and was on the war path of vengeance. This vengeance would seal the fate of the universe. For a fleeting moment I thought to join her again. I yearned to explain what I am, to explain who is she, to revel in the carnage to come. It was so tempting, damn all the plans, live out this life with my kindred soul, like I’ve done countless times.

“Never again.” That’s what I’ve been saying lately. There was the added weight to the “never”, it being a real never, one that couldn’t be cheated out, not even by me.

“Hey you!” I heard Kelara’s menacing tone, “Who -- What are you doing here, old man?”

My eyes widened, I turned around and tried to run away, all part of the game. She quickly overtook me and grabbed me by the beard. I didn’t care for her manhandling me, it was rather painful, but we must suffer for our art, I suppose.

“Do not hurt me, kind…” I paused to look at her from top to bottom. Her clothes were tattered from her travel, her face had accumulated a few bruises and cuts, “…sir.” I knew that would confuse her a little bit, make her a bit self conscious about the way she looked. It always did, she was as vain as me. Kelara said nothing about that, but I could feel her animosity bubbling in her. Instead she jumped on to business.

“I am looking for an old man, a dremodai, usually goes by the name of Sar.” It was adorable, she was looking for her mentor, and unbeknownst to her – her grandfather, who she believed was the cause for her home city to experience, let’s say, rapid temperature deficit. Like that fool could conjure something like that, yet he was the perfect scapegoat. She would find him and kill him, of course, that satisfaction I couldn’t possibly take away from her. Well… I will take It later and twist it into guilt.

“No, young sir, I’ve seen no dremodai for ages…” I was fully committed to the “sir” bit. I should add I was disguised as a human. Kelara groaned.

“May be the forest guardians would know?” may be I was jumping to quickly to lead her to them, but at this poignant point in her journey she’d need all the cuteness I can throw at her, fast.

“The forest guardians?” Kelara repeated slowly. Something was wrong. She should’ve known who the forest guardians were. Not all the seeds I’d planted have grown.

“The guardians of the forests” I started to explain, composing myself, “…they are creatures of great wisdom…” I shamelessly lied, they were little more than animals, “…they know all that happens throughout their forests.”

I so hoped that I sounded somewhat convincing. Of course, Kelara didn’t have any reason to trust a complete stranger selling her quite the high promises. She was distressed and I gambled on that state making her malleable, at least to a certain degree.

“Ather, the great manipulator.”, that’s what they used to call me in another life. That was a long time ago, and I so despised manipulation, at least the direct kind, I am on the more subtle side. I wondered what had happened to Jenna, the old custodian that was supposed to feed Kelara my stories about the forest guardians. Nothing pleasant, I supposed. What else had gone stray, I wondered, Back to the present, Kelara was staring through me, probably thinking about what I said, thinking hard, the poor girl. C’mon, Kelara, the time to be impulsive and trusting is at hand.

This moment stretched, for what seemed like an eternity, and believe me, with eternity I am intimately familiar.

“Where can I find these…” the beginning of that question signified success, at least for the day. I had to swallow a sigh of relief, waited for her to finish her answer. Then I dived into the ridiculous explanation how to find the forest guardians, in fact a ritual, a dance, a way to show these beasts respect. They will worship her for that. Kelara went on her way. It would be some time before our paths meet again.

A scattered thought of... evil

Vaso — Mon, 09 Jun 2025 21:36:01 GMT

The huge body was hanging by its tail, expertly tied to half a dozen trees. Below, the hunters were gathering the dragon blood, a thick, blue substance that had a huge number of supposed applications. Most were bullshit, dragon blood helped with neither sickness nor with anything not magical. These people knew that very well, but the market for selling it to foolish human folk was vast. No Harvonger, a few drops of dragon blood won’t help you with your loose manhood, nor it will silence the voices, Gretchen, think. Such fools. Unfortunately, I’d need a lot of dragon blood, all of it in fact. That’s unfortunate for them hunters. They are a dime a dozen, still, I detest killing. Alas I doubt they’d willingly give me what I need, and I haven’t got the time to ask. Time, that’s funny. Anyhow, I counted 5 hunters. Brave boys and girls to have been able to successfully take down an adult dragon. I so hate killing the brave. With that thought I stepped from the shadows in full view. The hunters were not phased the slightest by my sudden appearance. I am in no way menacing, at least on first glance, an elder dremodai, thinning hair, cushy build and a weak smile. That look I’ve cultivated, I cannot do anything about my eyes though. They betray my intent, they are the abyss, they are every abyss, they are the unrelenting infinitum of the Universe. I love epochs when I can wear shades, but not in ancient Mesopotamia, especially pre-shock.

I didn’t greet the hunters, I just walked slowly. The first hunter was mere meters away. His chiseled look was stunning, a true dragon slayer, as taken from a storybook. Death. That’s what I was bringing to the poor fellow. As soon as I touched his forearm he fell down wit a thud. I hate myself, yet I keep on going. Nothing can stop me. Nothing. Upon assimilating what had happened, the second hunter threw himself at me, spear at the front. It simply broke on contact with my body, a neat trick I can do. I can take a spear to the gut, but it hurts like hell. I grabbed the remaining wood shaft and cast it away. Then I proceeded to grab the hunter’s face. I squeezed his head into a bloody mess. The sound of cracking scull and bursting blood vessels made me sick.

The remaining three mobilized themselves. They quickly surrounded me. A sound tactic, three against one, I should’ve been finished then and there. I wasn’t. I didn’t want to toy with them too much. A riposte from the gal behind me caught me by surprise. Her spear entered my body with ease. It was rather painful which made me angry. I turned around and knocked her down, as she was still clutching the spear that was in my chest. I pulled myself closer to her. The fear in her eyes was palpable and totally justified. What I did was unspeakable, but I will try. I grabbed her by the ear and pulled her up. I could feel her spirit twisting in my arm like a worm. Souls rarely get grabbed so physically. I yanked it out of her body and squeezed hard. A soul is a fragile thing, my grasp fractured it into a million pieces that scattered. In my anger, I did the same thing to the other two, they didn’t even realize what was going on. How I detested doing that, yet I never stopped myself. The spear was still sticking out from my chest. The pain was almost unbearable. I grabbed and tried to pull, but the nasty weapon had some sort of a hook. It had to go the long way. I pushed and pushed until the metal head came the other side. It was a very crude weapon, crude and efficient, none else would’ve survived but me. Such were the tools of dragon hunters. When the metal spike came free from my body, I broke the wooden shaft and pulled the two pieces out of me. Below my feet the ground was soaked with my blood. I needed that back. With a gentle hand movement the red liquid jumped from the ground right back into my veins which promptly closed after everything was back, so did the entry and exit wounds. I was healed, only the pain remained. That tended to linger for longer, my primitive brain as the rest of my body were still made out of meat, which couldn’t comprehend my abilities. Can I be killed? Yes. Will I truly die? Not really. What then? I will linger in limbo for all eternity, until the universe dies and is reborn again, and me along with it, again flesh, deranged even further from the endless solitude, because I will experience every moment of unbeening. That had happened too many times until I learned to protect myself. Yet slip ups still can happen. I usually live out the course of the universe, at least to the point where life is possible, then it’s rest for those who lived and limbo for me. And the planning for the next iteration. I am no god. I am one man, my knowledge might have grown, but so with it my contempt and misanthropy and self loathing. I hate myself, I hate what I am, yet I still go on, not that I have a choice. Not that anything matters, not really. The cycle will turn and we’ll be right back here, might as well have fun going the rounds. And the real use for dragon blood? It burns pretty good, smokeless fire, fuel for my mini Industrial Revolution.

With my adversaries so thoroughly defeated, I went to inspect the dragon’s corpse. Those hunters had been really efficient, almost all of the blood was drained and stored in a few skins that were lying on the ground. I whistled. The sound filled the forest and soon their horses came back, I wasn’t about to drag such a heavy load all by myself, not that I couldn’t, but why, I have more important matters to attend. I loaded a total of 20 skins on the 5 horses. Poor creatures were almost at capacity. I’d release them after they bring the dragon blood, I don’t want horses, not to mention how awful horse meat tastes.

The road to my humble abode was a long one. It took us more than 7 hours to reach my sanctuary. I unloaded the precious fuel and set the horses free. They preferred to graze at my doorstep for awhile. I didn’t mind too much. My house was hidden beneath the ground, the entrance was a winding staircase inside a huge tree stump, it wasn’t camouflaged perfectly, but if anyone but me tries to get inside – they’d experience a rather violent death.

Beneath I had one large room that resembled a warehouse. Stuff was scattered all around, and at the center was my current project – a power generator. I need electricity and in this primitive epoch burning dragon blood is the best and the most inconspicuous source of energy, at least until the change, then it’s back to scraping by. Anyway, I need power to prepare for the change. This time I am not leaving anything to chance…

Ode to the missing

Vaso — Thu, 15 May 2025 17:37:28 GMT

My light dims ever slightly,
My desires are electric,
Don’t you take my words lightly,
See me now going all poetic.

There’s one device I adore,
Not something high tech,
Almost simple as a door,
Without I’m just a wreck.

It moves me fast and swift,
Across the city I call home,
Now without all I see is the abyss,
I scatter and pointlessly roam,
Therein lies remiss,
A faded memory of bliss.

Of the humble tram I speak,
Of course,
A yellow beast to yearn,
A place where wild dreams will meet,
Such nasty feeling - burn.

When you come back I’ll appreciate you more,
I won’t be mad, I won’t curse or blame,
There’s only love to my deepest core,
And there will be no shame,
When you are back for me, for all,
This will bring me joy untold,
To hear your rusty and metallic call,
For you my precious tram I’ll always hold...

Захаросаната дупка

Vaso — Thu, 24 Apr 2025 20:32:41 GMT

По дяволите, тук е място за шантави истории, приказки, но не, тъпотии се случват непрекъснато и не ме свърта. Нищо не ми гарантира, че ще съм на правилната страна. Поглеждам плахо към предния път, когато си наруших правилото да не коментирам пряко неща от реалния свят тук, кхъм-кхъм — ревю на епизод 8 на Междузвездни войни и... мнението ми за този филм, което ме асоциира с неприятни за мен хора, единствената причина да не то махна e, че човек трябва да помни добрите и лошите си моменти.

Стига толкова отлагане, към основното ястие, пускам си remastered саундтрака на Doom - IDKFA.

Религията приятели, читатели, хора случайно попаднали тук, религията, вярата, не мога с ръка на сърцето да кажа, че това са напълно лоши неща. Организираната религия обаче ми стои грешно на душата, някак си цялата еуфория от споделеност на нещо до голяма степен фантастично, но от групи хора, които взимат материята за истина ми е струва грешно. Нима ако вземе група хора, които са фанатични почитатели на Хрониките на Нарния и решат да се кланят на някой произволен лъв в Турски зоопарк няма да ви се сторят малко поне странни? Та, аз с такова антропологично любопитство наблюдавам, отдалеч, религиозните празници. Не ме разбирайте грешно, всякакви поводи да се събираме със семейство и приятели са повече позитивни отколкото негативни. Но пак тук стои, поне за мен, свободата на избор. Така неусетно прехвърлям към нещото, което ме изчовърка твърде дълбоко — задължително изучаване на “РЕЛИГИЯ” в училище. Това ме върна към далечната вече 1997 година, когато бях едно будно дете в първи клас, което меше записано на СИП Религия, защото били казали на родителите ми, че ще включва изучаване на всякакви религии и култури. Познайте дали беше. Ни най-малко, каквито смътни спомени ми изплуват от тия часове е основно четене на някаква адаптирана версия на Библията, прекръстена като учебник по Религия. Възможно е да е включвало наизустяване на молитви, но понеже научаването наизуст на каквото и да била противоречи на вътрешните ми разбирания и е в разрез със способностите на моя мозък да запомня 1:1 информация, аз съм по концептуалната памет (и известна доза злопаметност). Мисълта ми беше, преди 27-8 години ни лъжеха за тия неща, та това е оставило доста неприятен вкус в устата ми по отношение религия като предмет изучават в училище, а както казах имам злопаметна природа понякога. Съответно идеята сега изучването на такъв предмет да стане задължително ми се струва абсурдна. От една страна изедниквяването на концепциите за вяра е опасна посока. О, да, поставянето на общества под строй може да има краткотраен положителен ефект, но това неминуема вади да стагнация, изоставане и разруха, погледнете дисциплинирането общества на изток, ако не ми вярвате. Та проблемът, пони за мен, с религията, организираната религия е в организаторите, защото като всяка голяма организация се раздува, губи фокус и става лесна плячка за опортюнисти да си обслужват амбициите. А властта разкрива същността на хората, малцина са тия без нещо мрачно вътре. За сега дори не захващам и самите религии, с техните вековни вътрешни спорове и текстове, които си противоречат почти колкото текущия текст, който в момента създавам, с разликата, че аз не претендирам, че думите ми са вдъхновени от свръхсетивни сили, които управляват съществуването ни. За мен вярата е много лично нищо, много лично изживяване. Обичам да давам за пример, че е ката ходенето да тоалетна, нещо което не споделяш с други хора, защото за мен вярата е необяснима и несподелима, някакво зрънце дълбоко в теб, което ката се опиташ да споделиш прекалено лесно може да бъде засенчено, помрачено и променено. За това и няма да седна да обяснявам в какво вярвам и в какво не вярвам, което осъзнавам, че отслабва тезата ми, но предпочитам слаба теза и лична позиция. Знаете ли коя е най-правилната религия? Точно така, Вашата религия е най-правилната и невероятна! За коя говоря ли? За вашата, няма значение коя е, но това колко е правилна или не зависи от хората. Във Ватикана католическата версия на Християнството е най-правилната религия. В Мека е всеизвестен факт, че Ислямът е истинската истина. В Исландия през 867 година от новата ера Один е върховният Бог, в една далечна галактика преди много години - Силата е научно доказана, че е отговорът на всичко. Вашата религия, където се намирате във времето и пространството е най-правилна, радвайте се, истината е една, просто има ограничен диапазон на действие. Каква общо има всичка тава с вероучението в училищата, ЗАДЪЛЖИТЕЛНОТО вероучение в училищата? Има, защото кой ще избира какво точно да се учи. Само Библията има 400+ варианта на безброй езици. Веднага ще кажете, че ката локацията е важна значи трябва да се налива православието с фуния в главите на подрастващите, нали точно това казах? Казах го с ирония, който разбрал - разбрал. Коя част да бъде наливана. Нарочно не споменавам, бе се опитват да приравнят религията с добродетелствяне, това ще е алтернативата за хората, дето не искат децата им да слушат притчи за пустинни плъхове представени като абсолютно достоверни исторически факти. Ама тия митове са абстрактни, неясни, с множество интерпретации, те не ся история, те ся литература и към тях е редно да се подхожда през призмата на художествена творба. Това пък автоматично изключва деца в малките класове да могат да боравят с тази материя, все пас има причина в първи клас да се четат и учат приказки и стихчета с животинки, а не романи с безброй персонажи. В случая не искам да подценявам децата, те са далеч по-умни отколкото им се отчита. Не искам и да критикувам от сега предполагаемите преподаватели, най-малката защото имам подозрението, че тая работа ще я тръснат на хора от наличния колектив, в малките класове какъв е шансът да не га стоварят на учителя по всичкология? Как точно ще накарат въпросния учител да не си вкарва личните разбирания? Има и далеч по-лош вариант, разни попове да наточат лиги да влизат по училищата. Обаче те в общия случай не са педагози. Изобщо няма да влизам и в темата, която за жалост при картинката дядо поп да има повече достъп до деца, изниква в главите. Та предполагаемият преподавател ще е или тясно обвързан със съответната религия, което ще значи, че е по-вероятно да няма желание да търпи въпроси и детски критики. — Дядо попе, защо няма жени попове? - в най-добрия случай следва дълго и напоителна обяснение, което обаче се свежда до - защото приказката е така. Приказката е така защото е писана преди десетки векове. А цялата работа с попове, епископи, не-знам-си-какви си е един театър, мюзикъл всъщност, че има доста пеене. В тяхната постановка си има строго определени роли. В крайна сместа попът играе ролята на Иисус, нали така. Предвид колко бурно се посреща като сменят половете на ирелевантни персонажи в ирелевантни художествени произведение, не мисля, че клетата християнска вяра няма да имплодира, ако някой посегне към най-ценното - гениталите на спасителя им. От къде идва моралът тогава, от къде идват добродетелите, защо хората са добри. За дълбоко съжаление, ще ви споделя, че моралът, както и да го дефинирате, добродетелите и така нататък идват от колективната нужда за оцеляване. Една група хора оцелява по-успешно като не се избива и изяжда, нали така. Когато се срещнат няколко групи хора обаче всеки си брани неговото. Мисля, че няма нужда да задълбаваме в това колко кръв се е проляла заради различия в религия, а колкото по-дребни са различията, толкова по-яростно се сражават. Не че имам притеснения, че децата учили религия в северозапада ще тръгнат на кръстоносен поход срещу децата уличи религия в югоизтока, това е нелепо. От друга старан преди година да ме бяхте питали какво мисля за задължително учене на религия в училище щях да кажа - нелепо. Но ето ни тук, едно общество разделено за и против това начинание и някакси страната, която се налага насила се счита за добронамерената, а на всичко отгоре поради някаква причина взимат превес. Ако не беше тъжно, щеше да е забавно, че духовно оскотялата ни нация, която насила е била бутана към атеизъм и култове към личности, ще може да бъде поправена с насилственото връщане столетие назад в духовен план. Та две злини със сигурност ще направят добрина накрая, така работи. Много ми се оплетоха мислите, мисля да приключа тук докато още е кратко четиво, може би няма да е интересно за четене, но имах нужда да го напиша.

Моята позиция относно задължштелно изучаване на религия в училище, ако не е станало ясно - тъпа идея, с която губим време и енергия и се настройваме едни срещу други.

Да се връщаме към фантастичните истории, които не претендират да имат Истината в себе си.

Калинката Джем

Vaso — Tue, 22 Apr 2025 19:04:59 GMT

Джем била малка калинка, с червено гръбче и седем черни точици. За Джем любимото занимание било да се излежава по цял ден в локвата до голямото дърво. Локвата била чудо на природата. Там се пресичали пътищата на десетки животинки. Жадно сърбали от нея насекоми, птички и бозайници, а локвата никога не свършвала. Ден след ден Джем прикарвала живота си в блажено и тихо щастие. Най-добрата ѝ приятелка била катеричката Надя. С Надя се виждали всеки ден. Джем разказвал за това какъв прекрасен ден бил изминал, независимо дали било слънчево или облачно, Джем виждала хубавото във всичко.

— О, Надя, днес пече прелестно слънце, в небето се прокрадваха пухкави облачета. - викаше един път.

— Беше толкова дъждовно, напоително за почвата, усещах как тревичките празнуват. - викаше друг път.

— Този вятър пее красива песен.

— Студът ме успива сладко.

— Жегата ме ободрява.

Общо взето малко неща били в състояние да прекършат духа на Джем. Ежедневните разговори с Надя били центъра на вселената ѝ, така минавали седмици и месеци наред, докато един ден Надя спряла да се появява. Понеже Джем била спокойна и доверчива душа, не се притеснила особено, напротив, била уверена, че Надя има нещо важно и за това не се появявала. Барон Фикирстийн започнал да бие тревога още на втория ден. Безгрижният живот около локвата обаче трудно се подтиквал към действие. Минала седмица, а катерицата така и не се появявала. Барон Фикирстийн получил множество извинения, че не го били послушали па-рано. Нямало време да се обвиняват. За броени часове търсенето на Надя започнало да покрива огромни площи. Никой не я бил виждал и чувал. Търсенето не давало резултат, сякаш Надя била потънала вдън земя.

— Барон Фикирстийн, сър, не я намираме и под земята! - заявили в хор малка рота мравки. - Претърсихме всички тунели, изкопахме нови, няма и следа от Надя, сякаш е паднала в небето и се е загубила.

— Барон Фикирстийн, адмирал, не я намираме във въздуха! - от своя страна изчуруликали в един тон рояк врабчета. - Проверихме всеки облак, носихме се по всевъзможни течения, сякаш никога не е съществувала. Врабчетата имат окултистки наклоностти, за това и вадят такива заключения. В същото време Джем се притеснявала дълбоко за своята приятелка. Липсвала ѝ, не само защото ѝ била опора в трудни времена, а просто така.

— Наде, върни се... - повтаряла през сълзи Джем, докато безцелно прелитала пак и пак над всичките любими места на приятелката си. Още три дена минали докато търсачите научил нещо. Далеч, много далеч от локвата високата планина била чула нещо. Това поне споделила осата Ян, а тя рядко говорела. Като говорела всички я слушали. На мига, в който Джем научила това се изстреляла натам с пълна скорост. Вятърът бил на нейна страна и Джем за нула време пристигнала.

— О, планина, стара и мъдра. Помогни ми да намеря моята най-добра приятелка Надя...- тънкото, пискливо гласче на Джем обаче далеч не било способно да пробуди дремещата планина.

— Трябва да намеря ухото на планината! - си казала Джем замислена. - Но къде ли е. Докато Джем разсъждавала над тия важни мисли, нещо се промъквало из тревата. Калинката била кацнал на един стрък висока трева, за да вижда по-добре. Въпреки загрижеността си Джем бързо усетила, че нещо мърда из тревата надолу. Сърцето на плахото насекомо слезнало в петите ѝ, на шест много уплашени части. Въобще забравила ума и дума, или пък това, че може просто да отлети. Нещото тършуващо из тревата приближавало. Джем била шокирана. Вече нещото било съвсем близо, калинката усещала как стръгчето трева, на което седи предава вибрациите. Още момент, два, и изпод треволяка изскочила страховита фигура. Поне била страховита за незапознатите, защото това бил барон Фикирстийн, масивен стар плъх, облечен в червена униформа, с голям цилиндър на главата и малко бастунче, на което да си подпира.

— Барон Фикирстийн, изпрашихте ме до смърт! Какво правите тук? - едва Джем си поела достатъчно дъх, за да го каже.

— Ама Джем, така бързо избяга, потроших си краката да те преследвам, моето момиче, идваш насам, а тук вече сме загубили една от нашите, не мога да допусна още един важен гражданин на нашата локва да изчезне. - баронът бил вечно притеснен и загрижен за гражданите си, но чак да тръгне поход било необичайно.

— Джем, моето момиче, планината спи дълбок сън, от който трудно ще я събудиш. - заявил баронът делово. - Ей там, виждаш ли... - Фикирстийн посочил с пръст към планината. - ...някъде там се намира ухото на планината, но пътят е труден.

Дори с не много доброто си зрение Джем бързо фиксирала отвора на голяма пещера, било толкова логично. Без дори да се замисли, калинката отлетяла натам.

— Хей, Джем, върни се...! Джем направила завой обратно и кацнала пак на стръка трева.

— Барон Фикирстийн, не мислите ли, че ще е толкова по-бързо, ако прелетя до там сама, говоря с планината и се върна да кажа какво съм научила? - Джем нервно изля желанието си. Плъхът въздъхна тежко, но като всеки добър лидер познаваше възможностите си, в случая само щеше да е в тежест.

— Давай, моето момиче, ще те чакам тук. - с тези думи, Джем отново отлетяла към ухото на планината. Отворът на пещерата бил огромен, а вътрешността излъчвала неприятна жълта светлина. Джем кацнала отпред, изказала си приказката на планината, но явно все още не било достатъчно силно. Нямало начин, калинката трябвало да влезе навътре в пещерата. Джем прелитала по няколко метра, кацала и повтаряла молбата си, но планината дори не потрепвала. След дузина прелитания Джем вече почти не виждала изхода на пещерата, но оставала все така нечута. Трябвало да влезе още по-навътре, а с всяко прелитане страховете на Джем се увеличавали. Притеснявала се за Надя, притеснявала се за барон Фикирстийн, притеснявала се за себе си, а болнавата жълта светлина из пещерата била много потискаща. Сякаш нещо във въздуха носело духа на отчаяние. Джем кацнала на един сталагмит, който се извисявал почти до средата на пещерата. С вече значително намалели сили калинката изкрещяла:

— Надяяяяяяяяяяяяяя............! - ехото кънтяло дълго време, но отговор така и не се получил, само тишина и отчаяние властвали в пещерата. Джем се умълчала, застояла. Така стояла дълго време, докато сетивата ѝ се изострили. Калинката виждала ясно стените на пещерата, били обли, гладки и органични. В аромата на застояла влага се усещали нотки на цветя, някакъв сладък вкус се прокрадвал. Температурата била неусетна и успокояваща. Най-интригуващ обаче бил звукът, който Джем започнала да долавя. Тихото похъркване на планината.

— Събуди се! - изкрещяла Джем с пълно гърло. Последвала дълга пауза. Калинката чакала със затаен дъх. Най-сетне планината започнала да се събужда. Едва доловимото дишане, се усилило и станало далеч по-доловимо. Разнесъл се тътен из пещерата - сладката прозявка на разбудената планина.

— Кой, какво, каква става...? - разнесъл се мощен, на неуверен глас.

— Аз съм Джем, търся моята приятелка... - пещерата се разлюляла в нещо като още прозявки. След това последвала тишина, докато дишането на планината се изравнило, последвал нов тътен:

— Аз съм сивата планина. Висока съм. Стара съм. Виждам много. Чувам много. Кого търсиш малък глас в главата ми? Джем поела дълбоко дъх и изкрещяла в ухото на планината:

— Не съм в главата, а в ухото! Моята приятелка, тя е катеричка, казва се Надя и има голяма рунтава опашкаи сив кожих! Планината пак се разтресла, но този пък звучала сякаш се смее. Джем не виждала какво смешно имало в казаното.

— Скъпо гласче... - започнала планината. - Из мен в момента бродят неизброимо количество катерици, а всеки ден идват и си заминават няколко неизброими количества. - планината въздъхнала, с което Джем едвам не паднала от сталагмита си. - Конкретика. Кон-кре-ти-ка. Това ми трябва. Калинката се замислила какво конкретно може да каже за Надя. За нея визуално тя не се различавала особено от всички други катерички - гигантско тяло, пухкава козина, големи очи, множество накъсани движения, не. По външност няма никакъв шанс да я опише. Тогава Джем се замислила каква приятелка била всъщност.

— Добра е. - най-сетне казала Джем.

— Като всяка катерица. - парира го планината.

— Обича природата, обича цветята, обича слънцето, обича земята, обича да подскача...

— Гласче в моето уше, описваш ми всяка катерица. Ако това търсиш, из мен ще намериш десетки, ако не и стотици, със сигурност има и няколко дето се казват Надя... - това предложение подразнило Джем. Как така ще заменяла Надя с друга Надя, нейната Надя била единствена и уникална. Това нямало как да го разбере някаква си планина.

— Но осата Ян каза, че знаеш нещо за моята единствена и неповторима Надя. - почти проплакала Джем. Нещо се променило, в тона на планината:

— Осата Ян, чувала си я скоро? Как е? Добре ли е? - планината се опитваше да прикрие вълнение и притеснение.

— Беше добре, все така, умислена...

— Ах, моята Ян... Да, тя ме пита преди време за някаква катерица, която сега помня беше една от безбройните, които идват. Да, сещам се. Тя е недалеч от ухото ми, излез и лети нагоре докато не стигнеш едно езеро, водата му е бистра, но солена, там събирам сълзите си като Ян е далеч от мен.

Джем благодарила на планината десетки пъти преди да отлети към езерото. Нямало сила, която да я забави дори миг повече. Наистина, пред езерото стояла със скръстени ръце и крака Надя. Джем се засилила към катерицата и кацнала върху носът ѝ.

— Наде, беше най-хубавото търсене, което някога е съществувало. Надя отвори очи, усмихна се, блаженството тепърва започвало.

Край

A happy ending

Vaso — Sat, 12 Apr 2025 06:06:26 GMT

The palace of great dwarven King Dalmoz was having a grand ball, in honor of the noble king’s eightieth year on the throne. It was going to be a feast of grand magnificence, with guests from all over the kingdom and many foreign dignitaries from around the world. The meads were brewed months in advance. Entire flocks of chickens were pampered for weeks. The pork had been marinating in wines imported from Vidalidene, herbs specially selected by the finest herbalists, and the cheese... the cheese was almost as old as the king. Fresh fruits and vegetables were sourced from the valleys of Loraine, and were accompanied by their most talented musicians to provide entertainment worthy of that celebration.
All and all the capital city of Gruzg was seeing an influx of goods, people and joy. Even crime was at an all time low, there was honest work for everybody and the jubilations were contagious.
A prime example Alkin, the court wizard, a dwarf of great respect, who in the last war, the war turned the rebellious brother of the king in a mouse and thus ended the war. That earned him fame and fortune. What most people didn’t know was that he captured and fed the mouse to a hungry cat. The king didn’t question him. Alkin promptly converted his fortune into feasting, drinking, whoring. Soon after his belly grew threefold larger, and his beard reeked of a tavern.
Alkin already had a plan, what to eat, how to drink, where to fuck, a master plan of a lecherous drunk with terrifying magical powers. Let’s be clear on one thing, Alkin is a terrible dwarf, there can be no argument there, and I will show you.
On the eve before the festivities would begin Alkin was at home, in his dimly lit kitchen putting finishing touches on his plan. He was tuning his pet ferret to smell his level of inebriation, it should be quite above tipsy and just below being incapacitated. The animal’s spirit was bound to Alkin and would whisper directly in the dwarf’s mind when to correct his drinking pattern. The poor beast was to experience an endless torment while performing this task. With this minor tweak, Alkin turned to the map of Gruzg that hanged on his wall. There were differently colored pins all over the place, red pins were places where he’d be getting drinks, yellow were the best feasting locations, black pins signified hidden places where Alkin could vomit without being heard or seen. There were seven white pins, those pointed to the homes of three extravagant noble ladies, while three of the others were the locations of the best brothels and the last one was for the Sarcastic Weenier, the cheapest brothel. Alkin smiled, and then took a giant sip of beer out of his ridiculously large mug (1.3 liter monstrosity). A loud burp shout out of the dwarf’s mouth and he scratched his belly. He was happy with the planned debauchery. With one additional gulp he dried his mug. It was time to sleep. Alkin waddled toward his bedroom and collapsed on his magically reinforced bed, within a minute he was snoring soundly.
The wizard didn’t sleep well. He trashed around, woke up many times, went to the bathroom at least four times, and the burning sensation while urinating wasn’t going away, despite Alkin’s meticulously crafted spell to banish the infection in the primordial realm.
When the artificial sun brushed Alkin’s dirty face the next morning he was tired and miserable. He got up and filled his mug with Boldigar mead, a sweet low alcoholic beverage for the professional drinker. For breakfast he had three boiled eggs and a serving of bacon which danced in the pan at the wizards whim, then flew right into his greasy mouth, overall it was a light breakfast for Alkin, he had to pace himself, the Lard Palace was his first stop, only 2 hours away. It was an excellent time to review everything. Alkin got in front of his map again. All the pins had fallen during the night, “Stupid quakes...” the dwarves wizard grumbled and started to gather the pins that were littering his countertop. He counted 46 pins which he jiggled in his left hand. One was missing, a white one. Alkin looked around, but the missing pin was not missing, it was still on the map, though nowhere a white pin was supposed to be, in fact it was pinned against the location of his home, where he currently was residing. “Silly pin...” Alkin muttered. The very idea to bring a lady friend home was ridiculous. The dwarf grabbed the pin and tried to pull it out, but it remained unwavering. “Silly pin...” he muttered again and grabbed the pin with both hands and yanked with all of his strength. The pin remained unbothered and unmoved. “Silly pin...” Alkin raised his voice, he rose his arms and muttered some incantation. Ethereal powers gathered around his fingertips, the dwarf focused those at the stubborn pin, the spell grabbed at the pin. With a swift move of his will the map flew in flaming pieces from the wall, yet the pin remained firmly attached to the wall along with the piece of map that represented his house. With the map gone Alkin could see the wall behind it. A set of concentric circles emanated from the remaining pin. The circles were... orange. “What an odd color for occult shit” Alkin thought. He reached toward his mug and took a nice wet gulp. It was sweeter than usual. He sniffed the mug, it reeked of...
“Apple juice?!” The dwarf cried. “What happened to my precious morning brew?!”
The wizard sighted deeply, threw the pins on his counter and got a bottle of afternoon brew from his extra dimensional closet no 2, the extra dimension was on a world covered in a perpetual mild winter. Alkin didn’t pour into the mug, instead he grabbed the cork with his teeth, pulled it out and spat it, then proceeded to take a ginormous gulp. Disappointment flowed down his throat. His perfect spirit had been replaced by sparkling water. There was a mild bite from the bubbles, but nowhere near what he really needed. Alkin opened his winter closet once again and pulled a different bottle, which turned to not be alcoholic as well, replaced by orange juice. The dwarf tried a third, a fourth, until in a panicked frenzy he went inside the closet. There, waiting on the ground were similar concentric circles.
“I smell some nasty magic!” the dwarf murmured under his breath. “A very nasty piece of magic, yet somewhat...” he paused and inhaled deeply, “...familiar.”
Alkin kneeled next to the reddish circle on the ground, the drew his finger on the paint and sniffed it. It had an almost unmistakable smell, but just to be sure he licked his finger. Just as he suspected, blood, dwarven blood, a magical dwarven blood. It seemed that the Warlock Association of the Stone had finally decided to stop his drunken ways.
That was a mistake, on their part, that is. Alkin returned home and went straight into his magical closet. That one was in a fiery dimension, some would call it Hell, but there the dwarf had stored his most fearsome arms and armors. He didn’t think, in an instant he found his trusted auto sword, complete with fire and ice modes. His armor was another story. His girth had grown considerably since last he adorned it.
“Or, for fuck sake!” Alkin cursed, and waved his hands like a madman in a frenzied dance. Pain shot through his body, but the fat he had accumulated drained out of his body into a puddle next to him.
“I like being huge and wobbly!” the dwarf barked at the puddle of his own fat. To his surprise a face emerged from the puddle and spoke in a slow and lethargic manner.
“Don’t leave me here...”
Alkin kneeled directly in front of the puddle and poked with his now skinny finger, The lump of fat jiggled.
“Ooo, that tickles...”
The dwarf couldn’t just leave his fat laying around. Instead he devised a plan. He waved his hands once more and muttered some ancient words, and presto his fat became something that resembled a bald cat, complete with a tail and fleshy whiskers. To be honest, the creature was hard to look at.
“Ok, you’re mobile now, and I will call you Lard, because that’s what you are.” The creature giggled, now its voice was high pitched. “Ok, Lard, we have some unpleasant folks to visit and remind them who is Alkin.”
Out of the four people that could pull such a stunt, namely replace all of his booze with nonalcoholic drinks, only two were suspects, the other two were lady Azmund, but she’d been in the trance for a decade now, transcended beyond petty mortal affairs. The last was himself, of course, it would’ve been easy for him to pull off such a... not prank - atrocity, that was the word. That left the twin Gudi brothers Handi and Jondi, a talented duo, but way too self righteous for their own good. They looked down on Alkin, the time was past due to remind them of the pecking order.
With that in mind, Alkin dressed in his armor, gave his Lard buddy a gentle pet and rushed back to his house and straight for the Gudi mansion. The dwarf was so determined in his walk of vengeance that he ignored the crowd right in front of his house, and the people seeing him armed and grumpy didn’t question him, just stepped out of his way, especially after seeing Lard. Alkin was dragging his sword, leaving a scorched trail behind him.
In the next twenty minutes the dwarf thought how to punish the brothers. He would of course demand the surrender of their booze, that would be fair, but Alkin wasn’t fair toward his adversaries, he was a cruel dwarf. It would require a lot of power and finesse on his part. The brothers are powerful wizards, not some royal brats or common solders.
“Thank the Gods you’re here, master Alkin!” Handi greeted after Alkin knocked on the front door. “Something terrible has happened...” the younger dwarf couldn’t finish as Alkin punched him in the gut.
Handi curled on the floor in agony. Alkin’s punch included an incantation for extra pain. The old wardrobe just stepped over and entered the mansion.
“Jondi, you miserable coward, where are you hiding?!” Alkin shouted loud enough to overcome Handi’s pathetic screams.
Nobody answered. The other brother was the smarter one, he knew that playing dumb wouldn’t work.
Unfortunately for Alkin, the mansion of a wizard is like a living maze, ever shifting, if the owner didn’t want to be found, it would do everything in its power to prevent it. Living was the key word. A wizard mansion needed a beating heart somewhere to keep it going, and the heart could not be hidden away. All of the illusions were projected by it, but because of that it was ever present in each and every room. Alkin just had to find a suitable chamber and...
“Ah, yes!” Alkin exclaimed when he entered a small broom closet. He closed the door behind him and lit on fire his left middle finger. The ceiling was low, and a bunch of brooms was stacked next to the opposing wall, in front of them was what looked like a well.
“House, I am giving you warning, cease your troublesome attempts to prevent me from finding your master and I will spare you. Refuse me and burn.”
A sudden stillness filled the air. That was a living house contemplating. Alkin knew that he will be refused, still, it were good manners to present an opportunity to shed less blood than needed.
The house groaned, yet nothing changed.
“I am so sorry...” Alkin muttered, he almost believed himself, but the opportunity to destroy a living building rarely presented itself so readily.
The dwarf stepped towards the well. The house groaned once more. The walls started to move in on Alkin. He had to hurry. With one hand clenching his sword, he used his other to grab the chain that descended in the bowels of the well. He started frantically pulling whatever was attached on the other side of the chain. His hunch was correct, he gave a sigh of relief. The chain was attached to a bucket in which a throbbing heart diving out rhythmic sounds. Alkin swiftly plunged his sword in the heart and set it ablaze.
The whole house shuddered. The walls screamed in terror and pain, and then all the rooms merged into one right before Alkin’s eyes. Jondi materialized a meter away.
“You psychopath, why did you do that? Do you know how hard it is to enchant a house’s heart? No of course you don’t, living in that pigsty you call h—“
Alkin grabbed Jondi’s face to shut him up.
“What did you do to my booze? And why? And where’s your wine cellar, I have a thirst.”
Jondi blinked in confusion. Then he groaned and Alkin could make out something like “You idiot...”
At that Alkin kicked the other dwarf in the ankle, so he fell to the ground.
“You compete moronic idiot!” Jodi cried in pain. “We didn’t do anything to your booze...” Alkin circled around the fallen dwarf and kicked him in the ribs.
“All of the booze is gone...” the younger dwarf cried. “Yours, ours, every single bottle and barrel stated for the feast is now water or some nectar, everything, to the last drop, you drunken let—“ the next kick was to his face. That shut him up.
Alkin’s horror grew, he hadn’t had a proper drink since last night. Unacceptable.
“N-n-n-no b-b-b-booze anywh-h-h-h-here in the c-c-city?” Alkin stuttered.
“Not a single drop”, Jondi spat out with difficult, “...in the world...”
Alkin fell down on his knees and screamed.
“Oh, grow...” Jondi said painfully, “...up, man...”
Alkin rolled over and picked Jondi’s head, “How do you know it’s all around the world if it isn’t your fault?!”
“Been... working... it... whole... morning...” the younger dwarf was slowly but surely slipping out of consciousness.
“You don’t understand, if I don’t get drunk in the next couple of hours...”
Alkin’s alcohol abuse was keeping the end of the world at bay. What he wasn’t prepared to say was that it was his own fault to be in such a situation.
A very disturbing noise was hanging in the air ever since Alkin killed the house, but now it got louder and finally it got the attention of the elder wizard. Just a few paces away, a disgusting scene was taking place. Lard was nibbling on the Handi’s left leg, which was torn off right from its owner.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Alkin lept to his feet and with a wave of his hand took Lard’s ability to stand up, “Bad Lard!”
Then the the conscious dwarf got to the one missing a leg. Alkin mended his wound with a quick flick of two fingers. There was nothing to do about the leg, Lard had already consumed a good portion of it. Poor Handi was in for a shock if he ever woke up.
It was Azmund, that old goat who had decided to deny alcohol to everybody, such a bitch move on her part. That she’d given up any pleasures of the flesh, didn’t mean she was free to take them from the hard working dwarves all around the world. She’d need to see the light, and if not the light, at least the very real possibility that a sober Alkin will end all of existence. There was no way to reach her physical body, he had or traverse the minefield of the plane of the trance. Alkin awoke Lard once more.
“Guard me, boy, and don’t eat the stupid brothers!” with that said, Alkin sat down, cleared his mind, and let it flow towards the trance.
The sensation of leaving one’s body was one that Alkin hated, precisely why he had his ferret to keep him grounded. Where had that blasted ferret gone? No matter, Alkin was now in the trance. The trance was different to all who entered it. For a person such as Alkin, it was a void, an endless swirl of colors, smells, all manner of other sensations, and a constant white noise, a maddening sensory overload. Alkin had to concentrate, he needed the void to take shape, at least something resembling anything, enough for him to traverse through it.
All he could do was shape the trance to look and feel like a tropical jungle, the most uncomfortable place he’d ever been in the physical world. The void only took the concept of a jungle. The colors were still swirling, each tree was in a unique shade, and the white noise remained though it sounded more like bugs flying around. The smell took the worst hit, it was nothing like a real jungle, the odor that filled Alkin’s mind was of a clogged outhouse, namely - it stank of shit.
The the ground was muddy, the deep foliage felt wet to the touch. Alkin moved slowly. Not that it mattered, the trance wasn’t a physical location to be traversed, it was a mental plain of existence where one would need to clear their mind and focus on whatever they needed.
“This place is not fun when sober...” Alkin lamented.
The metaphysical jungle was getting deeper. He was slowly sinking in the mess of his own mind. The wind whispered truth about his life.
“Weak...”
“Phony...”
“Lazy...”
“Weak....”
“Weak......”
The whispers were exasperating, yet very to the point, it was weakness on Alkin’s part that was at the bottom of this mess.
“Time is running out, little dwarf.” a familiar voice overpowered the other sounds, it was cold and... evil.
“Right on time,” Alkin barked back, “And I had hoped to never hear your putrid voice ever again.”
A skinny, tall, bright-red figure was standing right in front of the dwarf. The other person was all but naked for a brown loincloth. Its whole visage was dream-like, unstable, yet its presence was commanding. The face was featureless, just two bright white eyes staring into Alkin’s soul.
“But you don’t have a soul, shorty, you got me instead.”
“Oh, shut up or I’m gonna...”
The demonic figure laughed out loud, “There is nothing you can do.”
The demon was right. Alkin had been living on borrowed time ever since their paths had crossed.
“It was your choice to pursue the Zeil magic, to use it, to consume it. I am but a humble servant of it as well.”
The demon’s grin was wider than its face. Each word it spat out was harsh truth. What else could’ve Alkin done? The king was losing badly in the war with his brother. Only the Zeil would allow them victory, and such total victory, none even remembers how bad were things, or did using the Zeil shifted time and space, Alkin wasn’t sure. The only thing he knew was that evil triumphed along, not the chaotic, destructive evil, but the mundane one, that left all the people a little worse.
“Yes, yes, loose yourself in the memories,” the demon was self assured, and egged on Alkin, “Give in, let self pity consume you!”
The dwarf was deaf to anything the demon said. The memories and regrets were consuming him. The trance was not helping, as it being a medium of emotion, and most of Alkin’s emotions were of sorrow. In the end what does really matter?

The sensation was an odd one when the demon tried to consume Alkin. It made a vain attempt to swallow him whole. Instead it only managed to bite his left index finger. The demon bit hard, blood poured down its mouth. Upon tasting the dwarf’s blood, the demon shuddered. It gave out an infernal, bone chilling cry, letting go of the finger, and shivering up into a pile of ash. It seemed that Alkin still had enough booze in himself to exorcise a demon. A weird calm overtook the dwarf. He only had to find Azmund, the stupid goat, and he knew how, it was so simple. Alkin summoned his power and concentrated it a finger, the same finger that was recently bitten. With that a simple spell started to manifest. The forest started to fade, giving way to an empty space, a completely empty space, neither black nor white... nor any other color, just the absence of anything. The emptiness was vast, endless... infinite. It was also uniform, that Alkin used, one emptiness is exactly the same as any other, infinity can be tiny and who can tell one from the other. Without even a flicker the emptiness compressed around Alkin. It was like a ball deflating. Soon a figure came into focus, or at least the shadow of a figure. Azmund had transcended the need to display her body of flesh, and whatever remained of her soul bound to the trance was far gone.
“Azmund you old stupidly bitch...!” Alkin barked. The figure didn’t respond, the dwarf repeated louder and angrier. Nothing. The remains of Azmund were moribund, barely registering as any substance.
“Damn it!” Alkin cursed. It had been her last deed to deprive him from his precious booze.
Did that matter anymore? The demon was gone, the literal demon. Only the metaphorical demon remained. Alkin didn’t need to drink anymore, but he wanted to...
With this thought Alkin awoke back in the living world. It was dark, and he was simply laying on the floor, his limbs spread. It was quiet, distressfully quiet. The celebrations...
“You should see what we’ve done, little puppet...” a familiar voice called from the back of the dwarf’s mind.
No.
Alkin tried to standup but he couldn’t. He had no control over his body whatsoever. He didn’t feel anything either.
“Ah, yes, poor meat sack, let me help you...”
The dwarf violently jerked up in an awkward standing position. Then his eyes opened. The remains of the twins’ house was burning. The floor was littered with charred body parts.
“Gloriou...” the voice rejoiced, “Let me crank up some other senses.”
The putrid smell hit Alkin in the face like a spiked mace. It was the smell of burning and rotten flesh. Screaming filled the air. Yet with all the burning it wasn’t warm, in fact it was so very cold.
“Let’s go for a walk, see your adoring fans...”, with these words Alkin felt a jolt in his legs and started to move.
Out on the street the situation was dire. There was old Penkins, one of Alkin’s drinking buddies. He appeared to have a minor wound on his ankle. The moment he locked eyes with the wizard panic flashed through the old man’s eyes. He tried to turn away, to run. Alkin was faster. He grabbed Penkins by the shoulder and brought him to his knees. The old man’s eyes filled with tears.
“W-w-w-w-why...?” Penkins stammered.
Alkin wanted to scream, to shout out that it wasn’t him, but he was just an unwilling witness.
“Lard!” the dwarven wizard shouted, while Alkin himself would’ve shuddered if he could. Soon a huge lump of fat rolled right next to the two dwarves. Lard had grown considerably, to the size of a bear. Alkin’s hand pointed towards Penkins. Lard squealed happily and started to engulf poor old man. His screams were soon drowned out when Lard swallowed Penkins whole.
“Delightful, isn’t it, thank you,” the demon’s voice echoed through Alkin’s mind! “This is an extraordinary piece if magic that fat monster, hellbent on consumption, bravo, you were a master of the Zeil.”
Alkin was stunned, literally, yes, and metaphorically too. There was now way out.
Lard purred happily, then just spat the old man’s bones.
“Good boy,”, Alkin heard himself saying, while lovingly patting the monster, “I will feed you the entire world!”

"It's time to rejoice," read one tattered banner. Someone had sloppily written beneth in red letter, "If you are evil"

The Happy Poop

Vaso — Wed, 15 Mar 2023 14:00:00 GMT

The happy poop plopped down on the grass bed. It was such a relief to be free, such a grand relief that the happy poop radiant its happiness all around. A swarm of flies soon came to celebrate. Each would land and take a piece, to print happiness all around. A squirrel cautiously inched every closer to the happy poo. It didn’t join in the party, yet was happy, for a poo being free is always grand. A cloud far above saw all of that and gently curtsied out the way; to let the sun see as well. Warmth covered the poo, which got happier and radiated even more. In the distance a hound caught its happiness and galloped towards the poo. Such was the happiness that the little hound, named Richie, grabbed to happy poo and gently carried it in its mouth. It was glorious, Richie wanted to show the happy poo to his friend - Almond - another hound, but older and wiser. When the two hounds met, they rejoiced, for a poop is always a cause for happiness, and this being a happy poop as well, it was all around happier than ever. Alas, happiness can’t last forever. A human came along, patted both Richie and Almond on their heads, but as soon as the poo came to focus, the human grabbed it with a paper towel, wrapped it good, placed it in a plastic bag, tied a particularly tight knot. The human sniffed the bag and could still sense the happiness radiating, so placed it in another bag, and the another, repeated until the happiness was all but trapped, then threw the packaged poop in a container full of happiness. The poo was no longer happy though. It could not share its happiness around, the layers of plastic would separate it from all sort of other happiness for the rest of time. The poo sighed. At least parts of it would see the world. Deep inside it, a demon laughed, its demonic mission was complete.

A journey beyond

Vaso — Fri, 11 Feb 2022 21:35:00 GMT

Oh, look at the tragedy, look at the senseless human suffering, look at all this carnage. Well, I shouldn't be jesting. It is a tragedy, it is a loss, but that's not my department. I am here to collect, for I am a Grim Reaper. Yes, I appear as a tall skeleton, dressed in black, I even have a collection of scythes. This is all theatrics though. I can reap you soul with a mere thought.
There were around 14 recently deceased waiting to be released from their broken mortal shells. Ok, there were more, but I tend only to humans, the animal cleanup group already did their part. Their job is boring. I wouldn’t trade my place with those weirdos.
When I entered the ruins of the building even I gasped, mind you only a little. I went through my list, it is sorted by age, that’s the age of the essence of the person, not the age at which they recently died. It goes from the youngest to the eldest.
With the whole reincarnation thing I’ve already met most of these souls. We usually have a laugh, ok, I have a laugh. In my defense, you should really have a sense of humor in my business and my laugh is delightful.
Where was I? Ah, yes, I started to release the dead and speed them towards their next life. It was nothing special, most were going to be reincarnated as humans once again, one was destined to be a rhino. That’s cool, every soul should be a rhino at least once.
It was business as usual until I came to my last client. The mortal body was crushed beneath a piece of broken concrete, putting it beyond me recognizing who that person was in life. Not that I cared. I extended my arm toward the smushed remains and got a hold of the soul. It felt soft and slimy, that was unusual but not unheard of. I pulled. There was the familiar glow and warmth of a soul, may be a bit too warm. As I pulled, it stretched like a piece of hot cheese. That happened sometimes, when people got overly attached to their life. Usually it’s mildly annoying. When the deceased is smushed like a bug it can be tedious. I continued to pull unit the soul snapped.
That wasn’t good. I hoped that I’d be able to pull it in one to. Instead it was time to start scrubbing. I could sense the remaining piece stretched across the form it used to inhabit. It felt unfamiliar, with tiny limbs stretching in all directions, grasping the mortal shell it once inhabited. After I finally managed to unclench this stubborn spirit I gasped, again, and that time it was very audible.
It was the most ancient soul I’ve ever seen. I wasn’t even familiar with it. This smushed person had been hanging on to its life for a very long time, longer than I’ve been reaping. I looked at my list. Instead of a description of the next life there was a tiny Red Cross.
“What have you done to deserve that.”, I mumbled, loud enough for the doomed soul to hear. I doubt it was able to understand, it was barely holding any semblance of existence.
I like my job. I’ve sent to their next lives a number of people beyond count. I never cared who they were, I always wished them the best on their next journey. My service had to do more with life than with death, because I knew, that wasn’t really the end. Yet here I stood before a soul of a person that had no other journeys ahead of it. It had traced its path along its destiny and I was here to perform the vilest of deeds. I had the power and obligation to extinguish that spirit forever. I shuddered at the thought. Yet, that creature, in life had done things so against the natural order of things that it had damaged its spirit. For the most part the soul of a saint and the soul of a psychopath aren’t all that different. Most f the time errors in the flesh turn people bad, yet they retain an sark of innocence that can be nourished into a new and better life. Not that spirit in front of me. That had openly invited evil and chaos into its essence. Yet I left sorry for it. It was vaguely aware of anything, so profound was the damage.
I reached towards it. It felt so normal, as any other spirit I’d send off to their future life. In the end it wasn’t at all different. With a gentle tap I guided that tired spirit into oblivion. It I hoped it was relieved.
My job is never finished. My enchanted list had changed with a new set of souls. I looked at it in horror. There were ten new items and all of them and red crosses next to them.
“What the hell is going on…”, I wondered.

The most beautiful mess I can perceive

Vaso — Wed, 02 Feb 2022 20:00:00 GMT

I like going into crowds, crowds of any size, kind and purpose. Some days I may go into a lush forest to experience the slow determination of trees. At the same time I might focus on a bustling anthill or follow around a family of squirrels. Other days I venture in cities, full of people, each individual a universe of its own. And a crowd of people is the most beautiful mess I can perceive, it’s like a parade for all my senses.

I am not like every other person. I like look a human, yes, I speak like one too, I was born to human parents even, but the world is very different for me. I have all the senses a human might have and one additional that I am not aware of anybody else having. When I look at something, something living that is, I can gain a sense of their innermost nature. If I have to put in simplistic terms I can see the souls of the living. Yes, I know what happens to this essence when a living creature dies. It is equal parts majestic and disconcerting. I cannot say if the soul ceases to exist, it does a sort of dance and then stretches in all directions. I’d like to believe that the soul of the departed touches all others. I know what you’re thinking now.

Please. Do. Not. Ask. About. The. Babies.

I know the answer. I am never going to tell you. I don’t care who you are, believe me, you will hate the answer. I hate the answer.

Now, if I’ve left the impression that I spend my every waking minute observing the living, you’d be wrong. Do you spend all your time observing people. Probably not. Interactions are fun. I used to try to tell people, though nobody would believe me. And what’s to believe? The soul isn’t the end-all of your personality, it’s just the foundation. I cannot tell if person is good or bad just by seeing their soul. That’s why I simply enjoy the view, like looking at a majestic landscape.

I am traveling today. The airport is bustling with people. It is always a treat, a gentle massage to my senses. Let me tell you, there's such a thing as a traveler's soul, they have very distinct energy. I would call it a seeking energy. Their spirit is forever excited and restless, but they find calmness on the road. If I could see my own soul, I'm pretty sure that would be me as well.

Anyway, I found myself waiting in one of the airport's cafés. The flight was overdue 2 hours and counting. I was getting mildly annoyed and the four coffees which I had carelessly consumed weren't really helping me. Such overexcitement drove all my senses into overdrive. At a certain threshold it stops being majestic and becomes irritating and annoying, like the sun on a particularly hot summer's day. And some people's spirits were brighter than the sun, they could almost engulf me. A group of such people entered the coffee house. That was my cue to go to the restroom, particularly one far away.

I hurried out of the café and bade a zig zag through several shops until I reached a seemingly deserted corridor. There I saw something disconcerting. A man was lying on the ground, his limbs contorted into an unnatural pose. Squatting near him was a creature of some sort. It was dressed in a fancy suite but what I sensed from it was a deep emptiness. It gently stroked the fallen man who was slowly dying.

“Hey, what are you doing?!”, I managed to shout. The creature turned towards me. It had a startled look on its empty face, but as soon as it fixed on me its expression turned into a wide smile and it dashed towards me. The creature was rather quick and before I knew what was going on it had grabbed me and lifted me off the ground.

“I knew I wasn’t the last one, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.”, the creature danced around while holding me.

I fall asleep

Vaso — Thu, 14 Feb 2019 08:14:00 GMT

When I fall down asleep,
You are there,
I see you,
And I cannot escape.

You are at the center of my thoughts,
In my dreams, I sleep further,
I dream of dreams inside my dreams,
You are always there,
And I cannot escape.

You chase me down,
I chase you up,
We are close and very much apart,
And I cannot escape.

I try to change you,
The further in my dreams,
The harder so it seems,
I try to stay true,
And I cannot escape.

You need my strength,
But I am all so very weak,
I desire your soul,
Yet you’re far from whole,
I cannot escape.

You and I will muddle through,
Over bottles of mild brew,
The path above is crazy,
The path below is closed,
We cannot stay…
But I don’t want to escape.

Do plants go to heaven

Vaso — Tue, 09 Jan 2018 22:00:00 GMT

An endless arctic landscapes stretches in every direction. The frozen wasteland has an nasty beautiful quality to it. The thick snow has the ground in a tight hold. Other than that the weather is unnervingly calm. There are no clouds in the sky, not a the lightest gust of winds tries to disturb the vast tundra.

Almost nothing ever happens. All the snows had fallen, all the water has frozen, all the life is apparently gone. Ruins of a thousand civilizations lie buried beneath the snow and ice, never to be found. Even with all the secrets of the universe, none survived. I did say almost though. And that is the focus of this story - last, unlikely survivor.

Somewhere in the arctic desert that spanned across every horizon a single tiny flower was barely alive - an artifact of a world long gone, struggling to exist. Plants fortunately are blessed with having existence without all the needless complications of anything more than the most primitive awareness. This little flower had no idea it was the last living thing on this world, nor it needed to know. It had to will to live in the post apocalypse. Unfortunately the time of this tiny spark of life was coming to an end. The gentle petals lay motionless in the snow. The stem was shriveled and almost transparent, a single leaf was still attached to it but with every second the relentless force of gravity was mercilessly pulling it down.

There was a soft snap as the last leaf broke from the little flower, then it made a quiet thumping sound as it crashed down to the ground. The finality of the moment was hardly dramatic. So every life on the planet came to an end. The flower would stay broken in the snow for eons, until, if ever, something happens to move this dead world once more.

The crippling silence

Vaso — Wed, 27 Dec 2017 22:00:00 GMT

I stood in silent horror as everything was shattering into pieces. I don’t mean the glass or wood or metal started to disintegrate, but the whole fabric of the universe was shattering, leaving a depressing emptiness, which was vast and infinite, but at the same time it was tiny and claustrophobic. Everything slowed down and eventually came to a complete stop. The shattering of the world around me paused moments before the empty void consumed me, the progression of time simply vanished. This was supposed to be the end. I was to fade away as well. I was ready.

Alas, the way to oblivion wasn't as peaceful as I'd hoped.I could feel my own mind fighting the inevitable. Illusions started appearing, replacing the emptiness around me. They were so vivid - visions of the past, present and future - all mocking my sacrifice calling it cowardice. "No!" I tried to should but it was in vain, whatever part of me that used to voice my inner thoughts was gone already. Was this to be my faith, not to disappear. My reward was not peaceful eternal oblivion - it was this endless torment.

I saw my father, I saw my mother, I saw my friends, I saw everybody that my life has touched. They were grim specters, but no voices came from them. Their silent gazes were enough of a torture. Even then I was still fading away, their faces slowly started to appear foreign and soon I did not care about them, nor anybody. This change was liberating. I sensed my own mind slipping away - all the unessential memories - my extended identity - until at last only the core of me was left - nameless before the void. But it wasn't the same frightening emptiness. It was a canvas of endless possibilities on which the fragments of the universe to which I used to be bound were painting a picture of time, branching into the infinite, covering the whole of existence. Yet I was beyond that now. I reached out to a single moment. The shard of time resonated and the experience rushed into my understanding. It was unpleasant - it was the life time of a woman that lived far into the future of when I was expelled from the universe. Her story was a tragic one. I reached out again and instinctively tried to shape this single insignificant life. I only made it worse. The rush of new bad experiences rushed and filled me. This changed my perspective. I reached for another moment, a bigger moment. I tried to shape it as well. The moment simply broke under the pressure of my will.

At that moment I felt that other presence. It brushed against the edges of my senses like calm water. Until then I hadn't realized that I was developing a deep anger but this new experience was soothing it. This entity was harmonious but there was also a great pain hidden behind its benevolent touch. As my anger subsided the landscape around me changed. I gathered myself into a singular form and so did the other presence. We stood against each other - both undefined creatures. The other entity made a peaceful gesture. Then we touched and I started to understand.

My sacrifice will not be in vain...!

STAR WARS EPISODE V + (VI / II)

Vaso — Sat, 16 Dec 2017 22:41:00 GMT

Here follows my raw thoughts about STAR WARS: THE LAST JEDI. The text below goes all over the place. What I want to emphasise is that I am still a fan of Star Wars, because I will not let them win and ruin the old.

I hate writing reviews, the very act of me turning critic boils my blood and makes me feel lesser and that's why I haven't done it before and I would probably never do it again.

But today I am a changed man.

I know it is very trendy to hate on huge, successful movies (in terms of box-office success), but trends or no trends that doesn't change how I feel.

And another thing that's trendy - SPOILERS below. Though I am not sure how much spoiled this mess can even get.

SPOILERS

I will be talking about Episode VIII of STAR WARS and I will start from the ending. There I was, sitting way back next to a child that poked me with his elbow throughout the movie and ate half of his pop corn before the movie even started. There I was when the lights came up and I was sitting in silent horror while people around me were preparing to leave. I quickly got up to my feet, put on my headphones, tuned to some music and left the cinema. Mere moments later a profound feeling of sadness overtook me. I wasn't sad for anything that happened to the characters, I was sad about movies in general and it was a nasty feeling - unclean and revolting. "Why so serious?", you might ask and I will try to answer. There were genuine moments where everything was going in a promising direction, but those were quickly snuffed. In those acts of artistic cowardice I could easily seen the greedy, greasy, cancerous fingers of the mouse, crushing any hope for complexity and exciting development. The status quo had to be maintained - good vs evil - anything in light in the adversaries and anything dark in the heroes was just a manipulation by an irrelevant mastermind who was discarded for some cheap shock value and make way for the TRUE VILLAIN.

This is a short summary of my feelings. Now I would like to go into further details, from the very beginning...

STAR
WARS

EPISODE V + (VI / II)

Titles, titles, opening crawl, classic STAR WARS theme, pan down to planet, starships in orbit, we get nothing unusual for such a movie. Then Poe Dameron comes and he basically starts to fuck up everything, something he will do the very end. By the end of this movie everyone that survives will wish he hadn't been miraculously resurrected on Jakku. His introduction and that of his opponent - general Husk - drags on far too long and creates a very awkward atmosphere were the intimidating general, and note my irony over this particular adjective for this guy is oozing off my fingers, is having to repeat himself multiple times is baffling to me. Dude, you intend to kill everyone, why in the name of fuck would you even consider chatting with this guy, the military discipline in the First Order is somewhat lacking it seems. Strategy is being trumped by the need for some gloating.
Then we jump into Rogue Squadron 4 for the Nintendo Switch as Poe has a number of turrets to defeat before a timer runs out. I did say before that he fucks up, didn't I? Yup, the timer hits and he still hasn't hit the main gun. GAME OVER. Not really, because Poe is playing on Game Journalist difficulty and the base below was already fully evacuated - 0 casualties - achievement unlocked.
Then Leia orders Poe to get the hell out of there, but the crazy pilot is hungry more battle. Hey Poe, I understand you, I don't like these turret blasting missions too. Round two - here comes the bombers. Gone are the Y-Wings of old, replaced by somethings called B/SF-17 heavy bomber. This is a good thing actually, I don't really think the Y-Wings were a good bomber design being far too small and unmenaceing. So the new bombers function work just like WW2 bombers here on earth - you get the above you target, open a bay door and drop some god-damn-bombs - in space - should I say anything more, ahem-gravity-ahem. Well, the bombers keep a tight formation just to be more easily shot down and then the casualties counter starts to rank up with an unnerving speed. Of course in the end a single bomber manages to drop its bombs on one of the huge, bulky ships of the First Order, which follow in the grand tradition of Darth Vader to overcompensate for tiny dicks (or burned off dicks like in Vader's case). This success fulfils the quota for a big explosions in the first act and whatever is left of the Rebels, Resistance hyper jump out of there.

Meanwhile on Ahch-Too we get a repeat of the closing scene of the last movie. Last time this was played for drama and emotion, this time it is the beginning of a comedic montage (when this movie comes to Home Video I am definitely editing it with some silly music). Luke just throws the lightsaber that Rey gave him and walks away. I must admit I like cranky old Luke and it is totally what I had imagined him in his 60s, he was raised by uncle Owen, after all. We're then presented with some wonderful scenes of Luke Skywalker milking a cow, fishing, brooding and generally being an awesomely unwelcoming old man.
By this point Luke is adamant that he would not train Rey and we all know that he will, end of discussion, we can skip a few scenes where they go back and forward about this.
Here follows my biggest pain, when Luke starts to teach Rey about the Force and stuff the movies starts to appear interesting, building on whatever we know about the mystical side of the Force. I can really imagine Luke really thinking over how to better explain the Force than Yoda did, without sacrificing the core concept or rationalising it with science. Also do you think that the rocks and starships in the STAR WARS universe have midi-chlorians? E-mail me at vasofilipov@icloud.com with your answer, the best answer will win a digital photo of a rabbit. I should mention that I am not strongly opposed to the idea of something physical connecting the meta-physical, knowing what a magnet is doesn't invalidate its magical properties, you know.
Basically Luke is one of those weird genius professors that are very knowledgeable in their field but can't teach a thing. Rey gets drawn to the dark side literally seconds into her first lesson with Luke. Also there is a Dark Side asshole on the planet, like every respectable planet has to have. It is the place where evil is being farted out.
Rey starts to have weird conversations with Kylo Ren, where it seems they come over a certain understanding of each other. They are both lost and are mistreated by their teachers. Mistreated why? Because both Snoke and Luke don't trust them and they don't trust their apprentices because they are shitty teachers. And while I can believe the Sith dude can be mistaken in his assumption that anything less then perfect darkness is a weakness, I find it weird that Luke with all his talk about balance is so adamant on his position that even a single drop of darkness will taint a person.
Around these conversations between Kylo and Rey we learn two different versions on how Ben turned to the dark side and destroyed Luke's new Jedi Order. The movie implies heavily that Luke wasn't really going to kill Kylo in his sleep. But he attempted. And here is the moment where the legacy of Luke Skywalker is destroyed. The thought of this guy murdering a child in his sleep is deeply disturbing. That is the same man that believed that his murderous cyborg father was redeemable and refused to strike him down. I guess Mark Hamill's feelings when reading that particular jewel in the script was something similar when reading the fine script in a telecom contract you've just signed that says they get to slap you twice a day for the next two years. I think at the end Mark begged the producers of STAR WARS to kill his character off and forget he exists.
There was also the moment when Rey literally fell in the Dark Side asshole where she found a mirror that worked like pointing a camera at a screen that is displaying what the camera picks up, complete with delays and weird sound effects. You would hear how this was a cool shot and yeah, it is, but it is also pointless, the ironic thing is that is exactly the point.
Next we see Rey and Kylo getting cosy in Rey's room, building, tiny tower. While I think those two tragically falling in love would be an interesting angle I am inclined to think that this isn't going to happen. They hold hands for a second but then papa Luke burst in (literally). There wouldn't be any hand holding on this sacred ground, because religion is funny this way. Of course blowing up Rey's room isn't something that would make her behave. Instead Papa Luke decides to teach her a lesson by whooping her ass, but Rey isn't above cheating and she brings a lightsaber into a wooden sticks (or metal sticks, I am not sure, that scene was kind'a dark) duel. Then she's off to save Kylo, because he is cool, dresses in leather, has a starship and is in a band, oh yeah, Kylo and the Knights of Ren. Get that mental image out of your head, I dare you. With this act Rey manages to repeat the same mistake Luke did back when he faced Vader on Bespin. Force visions are NOT to be trusted, guys. Haven't you read Harry Potter?! Then, for no apparent reason Yoda appears, oh there is a reason, Frank Oz is still alive unlike Alec Guinness and Disney brining in Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan would've been too similar with replacing old Anakin with young Anakin in Return of the Jedi. The two have a nice conversation how they need to change and by change they mean not really change. Also we find out that Luke was never read the stupid Jedi lore that he was living next to. I guess he had been busy milking that cow thing that had tits that suspiciously looked like human boobs.

By this point we have to go back to the Rebels and their fleeing from the first Order. The reason why I didn't come up before - because all can be summarised in six sentences.
The rebels jumped to a predeterminate place to rendezvous with Rey. The first Order followed them. A slow and unexciting chase follows. Finn, Poe and Rose hatch a stupid plan to escape. Leia can fly in space apparently. There is a severe lack of communication and discipline in the ranks of the Rebels.
Oh, you wonder who this Rose is? Well, she is a girl that hates rich people who profiteer from war. She also falls in love with Finn, even though she catches him trying to sneak out to find another woman. Don't get me wrong, Rose is nice and grounding, but ultimately uninteresting and her adventure with Finn - even more so.
We're introduced to Leia second in command. She is introduced like a mastermind tactician and somewhat of a bitch, she also has purple hair. There is one big flaw in that character - her refusal to share the plan with the rest of the Rebels, even when she knows that people like Poe are insubordinate, prone to acts of stupid heroism and plainly dumb.
Ok, let me tell you what their plan is. Amid the slow chase Finn and Rose will sneak out on a shuttle, jump to some star system, get a hacker, use the hacker to infiltrate the Snoke's big Star Destroyer (may be it's mandatory to have a small dick to serve in the Empire, may be Finn's grew too big and that's why he defected). Rose and Finn's star trekking leads them to a luxurious planet and they go straight into a casino. Hijinx ensue, with being captured, a prison break, high speed chase on horse-thigies being chased by speeders and getaway on a stolen vehicle with a shady person who will in not way betray them, ever.
Now if it sounds like I am brushing over this portion of the movie, it is because I am, because I didn't care for it too much. In the end they failed miserably, got captured and helped the First Order by delivering the actual plan for escape, because the shady guy betrayed them, betrayed them hard.

At this point Rey prepares to board Snoke's ship. How? By getting herself captured in an escape pod. Thank the Force the First Order still follows the orders not to fire on escape pods, ever. I wanted to make a joke about Rey not being alive, but damn it, I have a soft spot for her, even this movie. Also this is a good place to share my thoughts about her. She has been called a Mary Sue, which is not really fair. Most of her triumphs were because of skill she had possessed beforehand like knowing her way around starships - repairs and flying or just lucky circumstances like being able to beat Kylo who at that point in the last movie was emotionally distressed, oh and shot by a wookie bow caster, not to mention that most of the time he was toying with her. That reminds me of the fable about the rabbit and the tortoise, Kylo, my man, you gotta take that dueling shit seriously. Anyways, in the last movie Rey was delightful, she had great chemistry with Finn and was an overall nice character. In this movie she had basically taken a step backwards - she hardly had any interesting scenes, the characters with which she interacted used or mistreated her or tried to kill her. Only Chewbaca was somewhat nice to her, but he is a wookie and his dialog is really hard to understand.
So poor Rey gets captured, handcuffed and all and brought to Snoke who is sporting the latest in gold lamé. I haven't mentioned, but his throne room is ridiculous. It contains a few things and has bright red walls and looks like an unfinished set. I'd speculate that the green or blue screens they had ordered came in red and they decided to roll with it.
In the room of hell Snoke reveals two important things:
1. Any interactions between Rey and Kylo were his doing, thus invalidating any character growth between them and relegating Rey to Lawful good and Ren to Chaotic evil, roll the dice
2. He is an idiot.
Snoke's goal is to kill Luke, destroy the Rebels and rule the galaxy. May be he could do just the latter two things and leave Luke to fester on his island. I don't think he would've been much of a threat to anyone milking his cows and fishing with his ridiculous harpoon and not reading the original Jedi texts. But no, he had to stir this pot and stir some more and try to kill Kylo's girlfriend, well as close as that maniac will ever get to having a girlfriend or just a friend for that matter.
Instead he opts to kill his master, cutting him in half, presumably doing a better job than Obi-Wan did with Maul. Snoke looks very dead later, complete with a tongue hanging out and having an even more lifeless look in his eyes. I must say I did not fully expect this to happen. At least we were finally treated to the mystery behind Snoke - why was he so mysterious - simple, because he had been irrelevant, a red herring. Good riddance I say, he was a cheap knock off of Palpatine with the brain of a squirrel.
Wouldn't it be funny if he actually is a tiny creature operating a Snoke droid. That would certainly better explain the need for huge holograms and ships, though probably the small dick hypothesis is more accurate.
Afterwards Rey and Kylo duel with the rest of Snoke's guards who are pathetic and get slaughtered one by one in more and more ridiculous ways.
Here is my second biggest problem to which I alluded - the fixed positions of Rey and Kylo. After their temporary alliance they quickly revert back to their designated roles. Ren, or may be now just Ben, is a colossal asshole and has a mind uniquely suited for fucking shit up. Earlier in the movie he didn't fire on his mother's ship, cause well he had already killed his father so he can have her all to himself. Now he doesn't order a ceasefire. May be he things Leia is dead, but dude, can't you at least try using some of the Force to check on that or something. Nah, by killing Snoke he inherited all of that madman's goals and ambitions. Dude, the rebels are a few hundred people and may be they won't rebel if you reform. I mean if you want the old things to end may be you should consider revisiting slavery and mistreatment and such fun activities to actually bring peace. But that would require some thought and Kylo Ben Solo Ren has none to spare. He'll try to focus on tempting Rey to join him, plus he reveals who her parents are. He must've seen Empire Strikes Back, but stubbornly Rey refuses to have her hand sliced and give up Anakin's lightsaber for which they Force fight once more. It seems this time the Force is tired of those two fighting over this silly thing and lets them break it in two, though Rey gets both parts, because...
Anyways, at that moment Leia's second in command is alone on the big (well, still tiny compared to the USS Snoke-has-a-small-dick) Rebel ship and she engages light speed right through the First Order's fleet, cutting through them like butter.
In this chaos Rose and Finn escape, well not before Finn has a chance to trade some insults and blows with Phasma, who again is under-utilised, but at least she goes down in battle and not in the trash.
Rey escapes too by using Snoke's personal shuttlecraft (which I presume is 10 times bigger than a shuttle needs to be).
At this point you would start wishing the movie to end. All the heroes escape, the enemy is crippled - cue end credits music.

No, we've had the chase scene, we've had the Jedi training scene, we've had the confrontation with the bad guy scene + the parents reveal, we've had the scenes on a somewhat peaceful city being devastated by the main heroes, we've had the betrayal from a new character, we even had Yoda. What are we missing? The Battle of Hoth 2.0, but this time it is at the end, so it's totally different. Oh and the planet is not covered in snow, but in salt, absolutely different.
What follows is an attack from the First Order. They want to use a weapon to destroy the thing that keeps the rebels safe. It is a miniaturised Death Star, because someone finally decided that there should be BALANCE between having enough firepower to destroy planets and not being able to cut a hole through some thick metal door.
Should I comment on the ancient speeders that the rebels use to fight off the attack and how it miserably fails. Poor Finn tried to end it all, but was saved by Rose who trades Finn's life for a few minutes so that she could kiss him and then they can all die together. Yeah, Rey and R2-D2 have better chemistry than those two.

The end is near, the First Order is moving forward to finish off the rebels. Then Luke - God in a hand machine - Skywalker comes to have some awkward reunions and face his nephew and former apprentice.
I did mention earlier that Kylo inherited Snoke's stupid obsessions so he has his army blast Luke with enough blasts to level a city. But this is Luke Skywalker, he is beyond death, also it seems he had dyed his beard for some undisclosed reason. "Fight!", you are yelling at the screen and nephew and uncle oblige. Mark Hamill's stand double does an impressive job of avoiding Kylo's attacks.
In the meantime what's left of the rebels sneak out of their base following an unlikely creature - a fox made out of crystals. At the other end of the cave waits Rey with the Falcon where she demonstrates her favourite Force ability - to lift rocks. There is a nice reunion between her and Finn. Let's just emphasise that whatever is left of the rebels can fit in the Falcon, that is horrifying and sad. Did I mention that the rebels send out a distress call to all their allies and none came. That is truly inspiring, almost as inspiring as the end scene where a kid holds a broom like a lightsaber, for real, this movie ends on that. INSPIRING. I bet that kid dies before the end credits finish.
Oh, did I mention that Luke died? He did. No, he wasn't killed by Kylo, why would Luke be given a dignified death? Actually he was still on Ahah-Too, projecting himself across space. May be he shouldn't have left his X-Wing in the sea for so long. Anyways the sheer strength required to project himself kills him. Luke Skywalker, hero of the rebellion, legend, would-be-child-murderer dies tired on a forgotten planet where the most interesting thing are a couple of penguins creatures... and the cow with human tits, of course. Rey said that he died peacefully, may be, in high hopes we wouldn't have to appear in the next episode and probably Mark Hamill has a greater understanding towards the late Alec Guinness' feelings toward the original STAR WARS - being made to do undignified things for a colossal sum of money.

Rest in Peace Luke

And the best irony, Leia survived all of this - best case scenario to be killed offscreen between now and Episode IX or worst case scenario to be brought back as Tarkin-like zombie using dark CGI magic.

In conclusion I would say, after writing this thing thing and reliving this movie once more I am still disappointed at all the missed opportunities. I got in the cinema with very low hopes. The trailers never touched me, but this movie shattered all my expectations. This past month EA killed my enthusiasm for STAR WARS video games, Disney killed whatever was left out of my enthusiasm for STAR WARS movies. Will I see Episode IX? Probably, but in the same manner how I saw Hobbit Battle of the Five Armies - just to get it over.

LUKE SKYWALKER is dead
STAR WARS is dead

As an epilogue I wish to express my sincere apologies to George Lucas in every saying that the prequel trilogy was too bad. It may have been worse than the original, but what space opera movie isn't. There was genuine love for the craft in those movies - there is none now.

Once upon a troll/elf/druid

Vaso — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 21:00:00 GMT

Once upon a time, an elf and a troll lived in their little corners of the Divine Forest. The elf was short, blond, with giant grey eyes and green clothes, his face was pale and wise. He lived high in a golden tree. From there he observed the whole Forest and knew everything that happened. His knowledge was unmatched by any of the other Forest creatures.

At the other end of that spectrum was the troll. He lived in a hole in the ground. He knew of nothing and cared of nothing but himself. He was enormous and fat, with dark grey skin, small eyes and no clothes at all.

One day a human entered the Forest. The elf saw him at once. The troll would’ve cared not if the poor man hadn’t stumbled upon his cave. That man was a druid and didn’t fear the forests. Not until he faced the troll. The man thought “What a simple creature, unburdened by the troubles of the world.”. His opinion changed when the troll grabbed him by the foot and dragged him into his cave. “Mercy”, begged the druid, but his plead fell on deaf years. The giant threw him in a big hole where there was no chance to climb out and escape. The floor was layered with bones and ripped clothes. A torn hand was hanging from the wall. It was put there clearly as a warning - there is no escape. That alone hinted that the troll had intelligence, potential...

“Hey you, mister Troll, I know you understand me. Answer me!”, the druid shouted with all his voice.

Yes, the troll heard him, he understood him. He always got amused by the pleads of his victims. And, yes, he wasn’t stupid, so he knew something was different now. Something was very different. So he answered.

“Yes, human, tell me what is on your mind.” the troll’s voice was unlike what you’d expect. It was suave and mysterious. He also moved to the edge of the hole and pointed a lamp at the druid, to see him better. That man was dressed in greyish fur.

“Human, I see you are familiar with the concept of taking the lives of lesser beings to make your life easier.”, said the troll pointing at his attire. “You are familiar with the circle of life, are you not.”, he licked his lips.

The druid had nothing more to say so he remained silent and scared to death. It was then when the elf arrived.

“Greetings, fellow Forest dweller!”, he cheerfully said to the troll.

“Nangarash, what are you doing here”, the giant asked.

“To take you dinner away, I am afraid.” the elf grinned.

“Under one condition!” proudly the troll said, “You have to tell me my name!”

Nangarash became pale as a cloud. He scratched his head, looked around shook his head.

“Of course you don’t! We’ve been living in this Forest together for 900 years and you still don’t know my name.”, laughed the troll, “You are really pathetic. Look at me! Nangarash, the stupid elf that knows everything, but what is bloody under his giant hooter!”, he continued to laugh.

The druid’s last hope died. And he knew soon he’ll have to follow.

“I am Halibag! Remember that. Now you can take the human, I don’t like them when they wet their pants nor when they are all covered in wolf flesh, I hate wolf it smells like poo.”, once again laughed the troll.

“Ah, yes, Halibag, would you be so nice to fetch the human for me, I do need him for important tasks.”, so he did and soon the elf was walking with the druid.

“Why did you save me?”, asked the human.

“I need you to do something for me!”, told him Nangarash, “Something that no elf can do.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a little embarrassing...”, the elf muttered.

“Oh, you have my curiosity peeked!”

“Well, haven’t you wondered why elves aren’t the dominant species on Earth?”

“Can’t say that I have...”

“Well, we can’t... count to more than 12...”

The druid burst into laughter.

“Oh, very funny, simple man!”, remarked the elf.

“So, what do you need me to count? All your fingers and toes?”, then he looked at the elves hand. It had three fingers, “You are one messed up species, aren’t you?”

“Don’t get smart with me. Count the trees and you won’t end up as troll supper.”

“You need me to count all the trees?”, asked the druid.

“Yup”, Nangarash answered.

* * *

So the druid counted the trees. It took him two years, but he did. At the end he went to Nangarash and told him the number. The elf seemed impressed.

“Good work”, he said, then smacked the poor human on the head.

The next time the druid awoke he was in a giant cauldron, while Nangarash was cutting carrots in it. A small dragon was tending the fire.

“Have you ever wondered what elves eat?”, Nangarash asked the druid.

“Now I have a pretty good idea.”, the human mumbled when his skin started boiling and separating from his flesh.

The Forest filled with screams while birds continued to sing. Nothing unusual was going on...

“The troll didn’t make me do hard work before he wanted to eat me...”, the druid thought as he slipped away, never to wake up again...

Call me

Vaso — Sun, 31 Oct 2010 22:00:00 GMT

Suddenly the world became blur. He couldn't get his breath. He felt choking on his own spit, unable to concentrate. "What to do?" he asked himself. "My phone..." he thought and immediately tried to get a hold of it. He was almost unconscious. He dialed the first number in the list. It rang.

Across the town a ringtone filled the room. She looked at her phone. "That pig that I gave my number at the bar yesterday..." she thought when she saw the number. Then she apologized to her colleges and they continued their meeting.

By its end she had all but forgotten about it. The next day she saw it in the newspaper.

"Time of Death - round 1430"

His photo haunted her for a long time. But the image on her phone never left her at peace.

"One Missed Call - 1409"