Zaphir - The War of the Magi

The boy, although his weak aspect, was holding the wooden club over his shoulders with apparent readiness. His cap peak turned back and his very focused eye expression were not showing his terrible fear to fail. Not showing too much confidence, he never had been good with the wooden club game, but he was decided to cause a confident impression to that girl who, holding a serene attitude, was watching the game from the other corner. As always, her look was straight and tranquil. However, that look was not enough to bring him enough confidence. Indeed, her look was making him even more nervous and conscious about the contrast between the confidence that she was showing and that shivering taking over his knees.    Suddenly he noticed that her look was toward the pitcher. That moment came and like a prelude brought to him a disgrace. That unexpected downfall made him to pray in silence to all gods he knew, even very sure that gods just don't care about the miserable fate of a simple boy

who plays wooden club games. The pitcher, showing a very angry expression, spited out. His name was Jorjão, a tough and aggressive guy really decided to devastate him. Well, to be the best friend of the only one girl in the group would be a problem. His lack of skills on sports and her popularity made their friendship not understandable to all. The small ball flew fast

Lilith - Into the night

Chapter One – First part

I like the smell of the night. There are subtle nuances, brought by the serene and the light night breeze that I could not feel during the day because my sense of smell is saturated with the odors that men produce in their insane activities. Luckily I have night-time habits. Right now, I breathe in the cold air and realize that there is a different signature among the smells that come to me. Someone approaches and stimulates my other senses. I realize it's a man. He is slightly drunk and walks alone, hesitantly, but not because of the alcohol in his bloodstream. It just seems stunned by some misfortune. Despite the drink ingested by the lonely walker, I like the smell of this man! I almost regret what I'm about to do, but I know it's just remnants of the consciousness of someone who is gone. Soon again I concentrate and allow my fangs protrude. It's time to fulfill my bloodthirsty nature, something I won on a moonless night. Believe me, I was once human. Today, though, I make humans my favorite prey. There is in my acts a kind of poetic justice if you allow me the melodramatic slip. I have my reason to think so. The memories I bring with me, from the time when I was still alive, do not let me look at men in an indulgent way. After my transformation, I saw in each victim the tormentor who destroyed my body and my soul. Today, after so much time, I still feel in it a kind of redemption for that which once was. It is with this feeling that I watch my next prey as the man approaches.

The Invisible Friend

The pot noise falling overlapped the TV sound and woke the man suddenly. Annoyed, he tossed the empty beer can toward the kitchen. The only way to put up with the boredom of the life he led was to get drunk and sleep, but this process was interrupted abruptly. The woman was washing clothes in the small service area outside the house, so the one responsible for the noise was the boy.

  That boy weeping was up to something in the kitchen and would pay for it. For some time he had been looking for a pretext whatever to get that little bastard. The boy seemed to have nothing else to do in his miserable existence, only to disrupt him in his plans with his older sister.

In one leap, the man ran to the kitchen and pulled on the belt that held his frayed trousers.   He found the boy trying to pick up the pieces of the cookie jar. Upon realizing his entrance, The boy falls back. His eyes bulge with dread as he notices the belt in his hands.