Tag Archives: story

Not your usual summer post

I can start with the usual “Oh, summer is almost over!” but I don’t give rat’s ass about that, excuse my language. It’s just a season, why so much drama! In almost 305 days it will be back. Relax. Moving on to “Oh, vacation is over (cause mine ended already) ” and again that’s ok. I will take some more time off in a month for my next destination (not going to tell you just yet).

As the title suggests this is not about vacations. However, important piece of information, I was in Spain this year, Costa Brava, Lloret de Mar to be precise. And since we are here, Lloret de Mar is approximately 75 km distant from Barcelona.

The only day, the only single god damn day, I went to Barcelona, which was for the first time in my life and guess what happens?? A terrorist attack! And damn, was I close!!! And damn, did I nearly shit my pants!

What I want to talk about today is something that might look completely off the topic compared to what I wrote above. It’s about nationality.  And no it’s got nothing to do with terrorism or something of the sort.

Back to us, it all started, on August the 10th when we take the bus from Tirana to go to Thessaloniki, Greece, for our scheduled flight to Girona, Costa Brava, Spain. After almost 12 hours of bus drive, the driver tells us to get off the bus, as we are “close” to Thessaloniki (the bus was headed for Halkidiki, a tourist hot spot in Greece). “Close” my a**, we were in the middle of nowhere with no direction, no information, no freaking mobile connection! Nothing! So, under the scorching sun we start walking on the high way. We have walked for almost 50 minutes, between risking to get lost walking in the opposite direction and being forced to cross some dried creek, dead plants and a not so challenging fence. We make it to some hypermarket or something and all sweaty, barely breathing, we manage a “taxi” whisper.

One of the cashiers was kind enough to call a taxi for us and we finally make it to the center of Thessaloniki.

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What’s your superpower

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Last night my mom, remembered an episode of my childhood. Out of the blue I asked her  if I would ever be able to read minds… telepathy looked more alluring than wasting time playing with dolls.

My mother, as a very pragmatic woman answered with a plain, short, “No.”

Because she already knew what kind of curious brat I was. And right away a chirping “why” followed.

“It’s simply impossible. What do you need that for anyway?” 

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Evening thoughts

A photo by Israel Sundseth. unsplash.com/photos/BYu8ITUWMfc
Unsplash thanks @Israel Sundseth

“Sir… Sir, please just 100 lek* please, I am starving!” his voice breaking.

“You can forget about it. I am willing to buy you something to eat, whatever you want, but I ain’t giving you any money. Understood?”

“But they will beat me, they will think I spent it on food… please I am begging you, pleaseeee…” there was panic in his voice but nevertheless he was trying to keep a steady eye contact with pleading teary eyes. Yeah, yeah, I know they train you quite well, but you are not fooling me!

“Then NO!”

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Weird Dream

weird-dream
Unsplash thanks @MariaStihler

I was tired, actually exhausted and irritated. Another fight with mom about tattoos… What’s the “bound to earth for eternity” supposed to mean and what’s that got to do with getting ink done anyway??

When is this damn bus getting on the way? Can’t wait to get back home. Don’t look at me mom, I am not coming over there. Sitting in the back, suits me just fine, right?


Oh I had fallen asleep, for how long? Mmmm, nice landscape, but still too far from the city.

“Slept well?”- I hear a humming soothing voice next to me.

I turn my head, and I see a familiar face, but I am quite sure, I don’t know her.

“Ugh yeah!”- she is mesmerizing, a hypnotic light on her so dark eyes. I just can’t focus on anything else. I sense her talking and smiling, but can’t make any sense, and I see myself from the outside replying back, there is a background noise during our brief conversation.

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Italian ChaT Part III

Dear reader, I really hope you are enjoying the short novel I am writing. So this is Part III, as usual, I will keep updating the story every Friday. I am still shaping the plot, but I’ve got the general line all set, for now… hehehe who knows… what might happen later.

However, below you will learn something more about the characters. Some might think that I am taking my time, but I need to give a complete view and background, as that will also affect the protagonist’s life afterwards. So be patient and enjoy.

Again, I suggest you to read the first two parts, before going on. As the story develops from this point on, you would miss details and information needed to understand better the course of events. Part I “Italian ChaT” , “Italian ChaT Part II”.

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“They grew apart?”

“Alessio was the oldest. He wanted to be a support to our family, eager to change the world. He wanted to see a new Italy, empowered and industrialized but as idealistic as it looked, he was also impatient and wanted things to happen or to change real fast. With this fascist breeze, he saw the chance, that opportunity he was looking for…”

“He joined the Fascist Party???”

“Yes, he joined the Party at first… he was determined in his cause. He thought that changes, good ones were about to happen. Finally Italy would be able to reign the world, just like it had long ago deserved to. Yes, that’s what he thought. At some point, I think he lost vision of what was supposed to be his mission in life. He began to feed himself with anger and rage… The more he got involved with the party, the more we could see him transform… He was slowly drifting away, being so absorbed with the ideas of his beloved brothers who supported him… His real family began to resemble more and more with the enemy… The more we tried to talk some reason into him… Useless… His worst enemy was Mario, the younger brother.”

“He was against it, wasn’t he?”

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Italian ChaT

I went downstairs, storming, as I wanted to be out and about as soon as possible.

There she was:

Oh Buongiorno! Dormito bene?” (Oh good morning! Slept well?)

I stopped. “There she is, the old lady, again.”

Buongiorno!“I replied reluctantly. “Why do I feel uncomfortable? Is it her mesmerizing blue eyes? She looks wise and dangerously smart. That smart that makes you feel like your soul is open and ready for her to read.”

Svegliata presto, giovane signorina! E anche di fretta. Gradisce un caffé?

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