I find it quite difficult to write a first post. I’m totally puzzled when thinking what people could find interesting about… oh, no, another blog! Do they want to know more about me or, more likely, about my novel? But neither my readers nor my friends are here to tell me what they want to know. Therefore, I’ve decided to start with something I feel pretty confortable with –a story. A fictional short story of mine. I already feel better. Now I’m going to step on to familiar ground. Here it is:
Lost in a wave of dreams, his look floating through the dark, very dark blue expansion of the night, a boy fills himself up with stars and wind.
He cannot hear the cars rushing by in the distance, neither can he see the flickering lights of the windows spotted here and there across the land. But he sees, he hears, attentively listens to the voice of the wind, seriously looks at the winking stars.
The wave grows little by little, it is made of far away planets, of everlasting galaxies, of space-exploring ships, of creatures covered in golden armour. It is a wave made of wonders which the wind blows around the boy. It is a cluster of dreams lit up by the stars in his mind.
Then, slowly, the wave recedes sleepily. The boy’s eyes blink, he yawns and swallows a dash of sky. He walks home, with a distant song in his eyes.