A SMALL SUVEY FOR YOU

This is just a small survey, to take away some curiosities. I don't know the web very well, because I'm not on social media and I don't know many apps. I asked myself a few questions about reading texts. If you want to answer I will be grateful because I will understand some important things for my writing and maybe it will also be useful for your writing. It will only take you 5 minutes of your time to reply.

1-Do many of you read stories online? 
2-Or do you only read bought or recommended books? 
3-On which sites do you read stories online?
4-Have you ever read stories only in blogs? 
5-Or do you prefer to read on fiction sites too? 
6-What genres do you prefer to read?
7-Which online story sites are you familiar with?

I thank everyone for the answers you will give me and for your help. Thank you very much and have a nice day.

MY WATTPAD COVERS

I spent a long time choosing some cute images to change my book covers on Wattpad. I tried to elaborate the writings in a way that makes them clear. Sometimes I can't do it because I have to keep some margins in order to make sure that the writing is fully visible. Now I'd like to have an opinion from you. Especially to know if you can see the book covers even if you are not subscribed to Wattpad. I did it all by myself and without anyone's help. I write everything myself, both the descriptions of the stories and the rest. I do everything myself and I'm not very good at making perfect covers for every story. Please give me your opinion so I can improve.

Tell me if you can see the link and also the page with my writings otherwise it means that I did something wrong. 

https://www.wattpad.com/user/LEVANIUS

THE STORY OF THE OLD TOY

And so, as usual, the old toy, now useless, past, believed unable to surprise again, to entertain, is replaced again.
Not thrown away or left free to be the source of joy for anyone who wants.
No.
Left the corner.
A little out of affection, because after all they have been through a lot together, a little to have entertainment, however sincere in the event that the new toy breaks.
As already happened.
He watches and who knows what he's waiting for.
It was just laid there, the old man.
Think of the past years and the updates made, which in the end is not so obsolete, and strengthens itself.
He thinks that his only desire was to be the main source of joy.
Do you think that he would have been able, that he would have found the strength to become everything he needed.
Remember when it was like this.
He remembers when it was enough for him to look at him to make him smile.
He remembers when he was the one who had the place of honor in the bed, to bring affection and comfort in the dark of nights.
And he remembers the new little promises that were made to him, like the upcoming campground where it would take him.
Before the arrival of the new.
But not now.
Now it's in the corner.
Alone.
Forced to watch the scene.
Property.
In silence.

STORY OF AN ORPHAN

I am not a person who shows his emotions. Rather I stay in a corner and try to hide as much as possible. And I don't want questions, or reproachful looks. I don't want anyone to see me and think that maybe I need more affection, a shoulder to cry on, an outlet. My depression has nothing to do with any of this. Anyway, hello doctor. I read your name among the papers of my adoption: unfortunately a bit complex name and I can't remember it. At 18, I asked my adoptive parents for all the papers, you know? I already had curiosity when I was thirteen but in those days I was doing too much trouble and my mother thought that overnight I would run away from home or find me hanged somewhere. He said that Satan was in me. She also wanted to take me to an exorcist, and most of the time I would send her to fuck or scream a curse, then I invented the excuse that the devil had possessed me. I had a great time.
When I had the adoption papers in my hand, I photocopied them all and searched the internet. Doctor, let's say that somehow you disappeared too because bho I couldn't find you. Then there was that fucking newspaper article, written in a language unknown to me, I remember reading my presumed name, maybe the name you decided to give me, you have a lot of creativity, you know. There was my name and yours, I just didn't understand everything else and there was an image of a little girl who looked just like me when I was about 9 years old. I wanted to track you down to thank you, for taking me off the street and taking me with you. Maybe it's also thanks to you that I got this thing of having to save and help people. When I tell about this part of my life, people are always sorry. And it may seem really sad, but every time I talk about it I always think of you doctor. You gave me a fresh start, I love being here, but I miss my mum and my dad too. I regret only this of my life. I would like to know if you know anything, if you have actually ever known them, if at least you can describe their eyes, their scent, their voice. Did you have this luck, doctor? You know which of the two I look the most like. I want to know if my mom remembers me, I want to know if she still loves me, because I have never stopped loving her and thinking about her, even if I don't remember her, even if I have suffered all my life for the emptiness she has left inside me. Tell me if she came looking for me somewhere. If she ran to your hospital to find out where I was. Tell me she got angry, that she really never wanted me to grow up on my own. I still feel I belong to that world and I hope to return soon, in that same street maybe where you found me, doctor. To be aware that it all started from there and to be able to live it peacefully, without tears. The thing I want most would be to see them from afar, perhaps holding hands and kissing in the streets of the market. I wish it were so. I couldn't tell her about my life, it was an obstacle course. Doctor, tell my parents I'm fine. Tell him that even if I haven't reached any milestones in my life for now, I will get to have more money, to do something I enjoy. Tell them I miss them so much.

Love, the little girl you picked up from the street.

STORY OF A GOOD MORNING

Awake in the dark, still with my eyes half closed. I reach out towards you, I feel your smooth skin under my fingers, it seems to me that you are stretching your leg towards me or maybe you are dreaming, hard to say.

I go up with my hand, I look for you, I kiss you. Here is the navel and then higher. I kiss you again.

You're awake now, I'm sure, you're looking for me too in the dark. We kiss gently and then more and more passionate.

Our bodies are looking for each other, I undress you. You undress me.

I feel your skin against mine, your warmth. It's cool outside but it's hot right here in this bed.

"What a nice awakening" you tell me.

"Good morning" I reply.

You guide me inside you and hold me.

It's just us, you and me. You keep me inside you.

"Don't run away" you tell me.

"I'm not going anywhere" I tell you.

Let's stay like that, a little longer.

Who knows what time it is. Ultimately, however, it doesn't really matter to know.

"You interrupted the dream I was having," you tell me.

"Is that what you dreamed of?" I ask you.

"I do not remember"

"Excuse me"

"No, don't apologize, that's okay. It doesn't matter what I was dreaming about anymore. But it's the second day in a row that I have a dream interrupted. Yesterday Tigress did it when I woke up."

STORY OF A GRANDMOTHER

"Grandma, I can't stand a person."

"Bless her, my child. Because she is showing you parts of yourself that you cannot accept. You see them reflected in her. They hurt you, like blades entering your depth, because it is the only way to attract your attention. Thanks to you can see that person and integrate them into you. "

"Should I bless those who can't stand?"

"That's right! Everything that happens outside of you is a mirror of your inner self. It is showing you the way to enrich yourself more and more. Change your way of thinking about life. Fly high with your mind: look for the symbol, the meaning that your emotion has come to carry you, begin to see every person you meet in your path as a reflection of parts of you. Don't waste time on stupid complaints, superficial chatter and the usual prejudices. You have a treasure to find. Every time. your energies in this great task! "

"What an effort, grandmother ..."

"It is more tiring to stop complaining. And carry it like a burden, day after day. It immobilizes you, takes away precious energy, hinders you. Become a hunter of meaning. Go beyond people, facts, news."

"I do not know how to do it..."

"There is only one teacher who can guide you in this. You will never find it outside of you. It is your feeling. Your annoyance, your well-being, your anger ... are messengers of your Truth."

"And how do I integrate the parts of me that I don't welcome?"

"Respect what you feel, celebrate it, lift it up. Every emotion is sacred: if you can glimpse even a minimum of richness, the rest will come by itself. You will have new eyes, able to see beyond any wall. They are the eyes of your soul. ! "

STORY OF A SUNSET

- You're beautiful.
SUNSET - Eh, modesty aside ...
- But you put on some restlessness.
- Because?
- Hide something. I bet you are a metaphor.
- You found me out.
- Why do you behave like this?
- I'm a sunset. Being a metaphor is my job. People look at me, think about the end of something and cry.
- And this thing amuses you?
- Enough. We sunsets are sadists who feed on your tears. A sunset that doesn't make you cry is doing everything wrong.
- What kind of metaphor are you this time?
- I'll tell you right away. What are you looking at?
- You.
- Where I am?
- On the desktop.
- How long have you not watched a real sunset?
- Months. Maybe years.
- I'm a metaphor for that.
- Real sunsets?
- A part of you.
- I'm crying. You are a bastard.
- It's my job. Do not get mad. I am a sunset. I make people cry.

STORY OF A TIRED OWL

Once upon a time there was an owl that lived in a forest, along with many other specimens of its species.It rested preferably on the branch of a plane tree and, having a calm and peaceful character, remained there almost all the time. From that position, he watched the life unfolding around hmim. There were insects and animals that flew, ran around and chased each other incessantly. Witnessing the life of others did not amuse him on the contrary, he often felt tired and, not infrequently, a loud yawn caught him. His aunt, perched on a higher branch, urged him to move from his torpor and his sister, who was standing on a branch of the same tree, invited him to fly with her and her children. But Marino, this is his name, did not like the restless life of his relatives and begged them, with guttural sounds, to leave him alone. At night he hunted mice and green lizards and this was the only activity he carried out with pleasure. Often, in the middle of the night, when everyone else was asleep, he would exclaim: “I’m fed up, I’m fed up, I’m fed up!” He had had a friend, Doriano, who had soon made a family and therefore had abandoned him. He remembered that he had invited him to follow him into the holm oak grove where he lived a few kilometers away and one day he decided to accept his invitation. Opening its wide dove-colored wings, it flew into the unknown. As soon as he arrived, he heard himself called: “Marino, Marino, here you are at last! I was waiting for you”. The owl braked its flight and glided over an holm oak next to its newfound friend: “I left my hometown to live an adventure”. “Bravo, here you can have fun as much as you want”. Life in the holm oak was exciting. Doriano was part of a large group. There were birds of prey everywhere, especially owls and the food was plentiful. A true paradise. In the grove of plane trees he had been a loner. Now he enjoyed company and had become friendly and talkative. One night when he was making a larger flight than usual, he met an owl, a friend of Doriano’s. “What are you doing around here?” she asked him in a friendly hoarse voice. “I come from the woods not far from here. Would you like to visit it? ” Marino thought he had been too bold but the little owl blinked and emitted a pleasant throaty sound. Together, they took off and arrived at Marino’s house. They settled on his favorite plane tree. Owlette flapped her wide wings then remarked: “The world seen with you is beautiful.” “Marino, Marino where have you been?” His aunt and sister came down from the highest branches and alighted next to him. The aunt protested: “Why did you leave us? The children missed their uncle ”. “I left because I was in the mood for adventures. Here I was bored ”. The two women examined Owlette: “You have a nice partner… And now, what are you going to do? Will you leave us again? ” Marino was silent, undecided. Then the owl, offended, went away without saying anything. The fed up owl was very sorry. He found himself alone and bored again: ‘I’m sick, I’m sick, I’m sick!’ He would have liked to join Owlette, play with her and Doriano’s party, but something held him back. More and more often he exclaimed: “I’m fed up! I am fed up! I am fed up!” He would have liked to join Owlette, play with her and Doriano’s party, but something held him back. More and more often he exclaimed: “I’m fed up! I am fed up! I am fed up!” “Why don’t you go see her? Why don’t you go back to the holm oak grove? ” relatives who were worried about his mood encouraged him. “I do not want to”. One day Doriano arrived: “Marino, what’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you come to us anymore? ” “I was busy and then Gufetta abandoned me”. “You must know that Gufetta has returned to the holm oak because her mother was injured and needs treatment. She kept silent because she didn’t want to force you to stay with her, however, she always thinks of you ”. Marino was not in himself with joy. He greeted his relatives inviting them into the holm oak grove and exclaimed: “I’m not tired anymore! I’m not fed up anymore! I’m not tired anymore! ” The little owl was happy to find her mate again. Together, they decided they would never break up again. When they had owls, Marino invented stories to make them fall asleep and all the animals of the holm oak flocked to listen to them.

 

STORY OF A DEVIL INSIDE THE LAKE

"At the beginning there was a great ocean on which brave winds blew and storm waves rose. Then, as the years went by, gradually the water decreased and new lands stood to limit the ocean, transforming it into a closed sea. Still other years passed and the boundaries narrowed more and more and the pain absorbed more drops of salt water. The water was still, there were no more storms and the breath of the winds was far away and he could not cross the mountains to get to the sea.
More years passed and the pain dried up more drops, turning the closed sea into a salty lake. Few fish remained and the water was now thick and dark, impenetrable. Still other years carried away more water and in place of the lake remained a stinking and evil pool where no fish and no plants had survived.
More years followed and the unbridgeable pain narrowed the pool to a tiny, devious and agonizing puddle.
Eventually, after the last few years of suffering, only a drop remained on the hard and parched ground. It slipped into a crack and no one ever saw the clear eyes of the dead fairy shine on that desert.
After many years a strange spirit came out of that crack, an evil spirit, an inhuman demon who wore the fake smile of the fairy on his lips. He went around and brought death to those who had ruined the soul of his divine companion. He avenged her and no one noticed who that being actually was who at first glance seemed a girl like the others, but like the others she was not and obtained every revenge with her evil power. "
Where had that drop of water disappeared?
One day a tiny green tuft appeared and grew slowly. But after a short time it had already become a great, beautiful tree, a lush oak.
A girl passed by and saw that huge tree in the middle of the deserted field. He walked over and sat down at his feet. He took his guitar off his shoulder and started playing. When the sun went down she went home. After that, however, the girl often came back from her tree and sang a thousand songs for her friend oak, then she went more rarely.
A few leaves fell from the branches of the oak.
During a dark night strange black flowers sprouted on the now bare branches. One after the other they opened their petals. The little girl came and although the black flowers had all blossomed she did not even notice them. The next day the flowers withered and fell to the ground. The petals crumbled under the scorching sun but something remained on the ground: seeds. Each branch of the oak withered away. The oak died.
After a long time the little girl passed. This time she realized that her friend oak was all dry and started to cry because she realized that somehow it was her fault. Some tears fell on a seed. This, made smooth, slipped into a crack in the ground. The little girl started singing a sad song and then went away forever.
During the night a snow storm crossed the mountains and reached the arid ground and gelled it, covering it with thick layers. But under that hard and cold glass surface the dark seed opened and let out many tiny colored filaments, which spread in various directions creating an underground branching. Thus a wonderful new tree grew, underground, bigger than the oak from which it was born but no one ever saw it.
But people say that on certain dark nights, when the moon is not there, a sad melody is heard carried away by the wind. And from the surface of the lake come out of the light beams that rise towards the sky like arms of light

THE FAIRY TALE OF BIANCAROSA

This tale is the second novel I translated in English language. It has a very intricate storyline and I hope you enjoy this new version of a princess who has some weird surprises from her stepmother.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/254988678-the-fairy-tale-of-biancarosa

DESCRIPTION OF THE NOVEL: What perversion can exist in a love story? What incredible implications can a foregone love have? Don’t expect a fairy tale like the ones that exist around. Everything was upset. Each character has a different role than the traditional one. For some perverse scenes I had to restrict it to adults only.

IF YOU WANT TO HAVE A LOOK TO ALL OF MY NOVELS HERE IS THE LIST:

https://www.wattpad.com/user/LEVANIUS

IF YOU’RE ON WATTPAD TOO AND YOU WANT ME TO FOLLOW YOU, PLEASE WRITE HERE YOUR LINK AND I’LL COME TO READ YOUR TALES OR NOVELS.

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