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.

STORY OF PINCO AND PALLA

Once upon a time there were PINCO, an avid gamer, and Palla, his girlfriend, also very fond of the world of video games.
PINCO had made many videos on youtube but now he had switched to Twitch where he had even more following.
PINCO and PALLA woke up every morning with the sweet sound of the voice of some streamer commenting on some game. Throughout the house resounded the voices of these boys and girls who played for hours and hours without stopping.
But PALLA did not like the voice of a player, who was called Toreador, because his voice was lavishly ringing. He said it to Pinco but PINCO preferred him, because he played an interesting game. Palla only knew his voice and had never seen who he was.
One day PALLA started looking for other channels to look for companions to play with. So by chance he found a channel where there was a boy playing a very old game. She saw it and was impressed that the player did not speak during the game. Yet he had many followers. PALLA wrote to him and he answered her. They started talking to each other often. PALLA went to his channel and played that absurd game but only to be with that guy named Starry.
He told PINCO that there was a videogamer playing an old game, but PINCO was too busy watching Toreador and didn't give him any weight.
PINCO continued to write to Starry and then one day Starry gave her his cell phone and invited her on a video call. PALLA was so into him and she was thrilled. When she heard him speak she recognized Toreador's voice in him and was amazed. But now she was so in love that her voice, which she had never tolerated, became the most beautiful for her. Starry invited her to attend a fair with him. PALLA told him that his boyfriend would be pissed off. But Starry persisted. Palla thought that in fact she should have gone because her boyfriend was now playing and watching players play and neglecting her.
So he gave the welcome to PINCO. And one day PINCO saw his ex-girlfriend appear on Toreador's screen saying: “Hi PINCO, now you will always have to see me and listen only to my voice. ”And Toreador nodded.
PINCO put his hands to his hair and threw the joystick against the screen. He had lost his girlfriend and also the taste for playing.

STORY OF A GOODBYE

“You loved her, didn’t you?” He sighed. “How can I answer you? She was crazy, ”he smiled, lost in some memory. She ran a hand through her hair: “God, she was all crazy. Every day I woke up next to a different woman, once enterprising, the other awkward. Once exuberant, the other shy. It was a thousand women, her. But the scent was always the same, unmistakable. That was my only certainty. It was the scent of the journeys he still had to make, he told me. I asked her what she meant but she never explained it to me. He smiled at me and knew he was fooling me with that smile. Because I swear to you that when he smiled I didn’t understand anything anymore, man. I didn’t understand anything anymore. I could no longer speak or think. Nothing, zero. Suddenly there was just her. She was crazy “she laughed” all crazy. Sometimes he got lost looking at a globe or a painting, it took hours for him to come to his senses. And that mania of hers for always wearing pants … I’ve never seen her with a skirt, you know? Sometimes she cried at night. They say that in that case the women just want a hug. Not her. She got nervous being near me in those moments. She got dressed and stayed in the garden all night, and woe betide her. She was ordering me to leave her alone. I heard her cry, even today I am convinced that she was talking to someone, in those terrible nights. There was something about her, my friend. I don’t know what, but she wasn’t a normal girl. There was something about her, or there were other girls about her, I still can’t tell you today. But I remember she was at my wedding. We were on the church square, she was hidden. She had her red suit, a suitcase in her hand, an elegant hat. What are you doing here? I asked her. And you, guess what she did? He smiled at me. I wanted to congratulate you, he told me. But I never invited you to my wedding, how did you know? I know everything, he replied. Yes, I know. Are you leaving? It was. Where do you go? Street. Street where? I don’t know, I’m going to dream about something. Can’t you dream here? I’m looking for dreams somewhere else. She was crazy, my friend. She was all crazy and had a smile to take your breath away. And what do I know if I loved her? How many women have I loved in her? I bet he still has that scent and that smile, and I bet he only wears pants even now that it’s been years. I also bet she is looking for dreams somewhere in the world and that I might find her in front of my house someday. It was terrifying, man. And I loved her so much.

STORY OF A FROG

The wide-mouthed frog goes hither and thither, hopping around the pond.
- Graaaa graaa, Hello, I'm the wide-mouthed frog, who are you? - asks the buffalo who is in the shade of a tree.
- I'm the long-horned buuufalo, go somewhere else, stop bothering me.
- Ah! hello buuufalo with long horns, I eat flies and what do you eat?
- I eat grass, and now you've really bothered me!
The buffalo blows air from its big nostrils and goes away annoyed.

The frog then continues to jump here and there and meets a black crow.
- Graaaa graaa,Hello, I'm the wide-mouthed frog, who are you?
- I'm the black runner and mind my own business.
- Ah! hello black run, I eat flies and what do you eat?
- I eat worms, and now you've really got me fed up!
The crow takes and flies away.

The frog continues to jump to the other side, on the water it finds a beautiful water lily, those plants that grow in ponds, and jumps on it.
A pike fish approaches it from under the water.
The pike fish takes its head out of the water and the frog immediately asks it:
- Graaaa graaa, ciaaao I'm the wide-mouthed frog, who are you?
- I'm the pikeeee fish, dearest.
- Ah! hello pikeeee fish, I eat flies and what do you eat?
- I eat wide-mouthed frogs! - the pike answers him.

The frog, hearing these words, makes a tight little mouth, as when kissing each other and says:

- Hello, I'm drowing, said the frog with the narrow mouth, sorry but I'm in a hurry.
The frog running away in hops runs far away ... boing boing ...

THE REBEL GENIUS- MY NEW NOVEL

I don't know how many years have passed since EL James made his appearance with the fifty shades of red but since that time many women have felt free to write certain BDSM and fetish stories in which they talk about personal perversions and love stories. little details. So, you know that I write something on Wattpad from time to time, but so far I had written works in Italian but today I have decided to translate all my works into English so that more readers can read my stories. Obviously they are not all adult stories but also fictional stories and I hope to finish translating everything in a few days so that you can take a look and tell me what you think.

This is the link to the novel, which is not finished yet:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/270647138-the-rebel-genius

Description of the novel:
Have you ever met a strange person and do not understand what exactly is happening with this person? Situations that are lived in an absolute way, doubts, secrets. You will never know everything until the end.

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

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks

I CRIED

Today I cried again. Alone. In the shower.
I got good at not getting noticed in those moments. Or at least I try.
I don't always succeed.
The truth is that, by now, I have too much load to be able to "hide". Too many words that were not spoken, too many emotions that we tried to hold back. They are all there: stuck in the throat for several months. I'm on vacation and I should smile at everyone. But as usual he ruins everything.
Emotions press hard, like a ping-pong ball into the stomach.
The Miss who can make it at any cost, this time has succumbed to a crash.
Always at the right time when others need a hand and always at the wrong time when it's your turn. Because Miss doesn't know how to ask for help. They taught her (no, not her parents, but Existence itself) to stand on her legs and arms, because the mental stakes one clings to always disappoint.
And he does not know how to ask for help, nor take it, not even when that help comes spontaneously.
Perhaps because not all of them are inclined to Listening and even less lead to Listening to You.
Few are those who take words out of your mouth and pain out of your heart.
There are even fewer who understand you or those who care to understand.
No victimhood: everyone has their own difficulties in life and pain often tends to close rather than open.
Fears, then, govern the unmanageability of certain situations and you don't know what to do, how to help.
Silence. Thus we take refuge in Silence, when Speaking and being Listened to is the only real solution.
This is why, in the end, most people go to psychologists: because "no man is an island" and everyone wants to talk.
Listening is no longer practiced, not even towards oneself.
We hurt ourselves so much with words that don't come out, with emotions that don't vibrate, with gestures that don't happen.
Then you anesthetize yourself and think that finally that is the solution in which you no longer feel anything, to discover with horror that the pain remains and the joy fades too quickly.
It does not come out.
Today I cried in the shower. Alone.
I cried to cradle a little girl whose father died just over two months ago; I cried because that creature knows that her father was not a good father, but that he was hers and no one can take this memory out of her head.
I cried listening to the Woman with the chaos of feelings in the Soul, the indestructible Goddess who never wants to collapse ... pity that she is in a physical body that, sooner or later, had to yield to so many difficulties.
I cried for the youngest daughter, the one who wants to feel fragile because feeling fragile is a sign of humility towards oneself and towards one's own Existence.
I held the child, the lady, the youngest daughter .. I cried with them.
I burned my chest with sobs and ran out of tears. For today.
They will come back. Until I learn to speak.
He always destroys everything. Him and his anger. And now he sleeps and I am the woman who dreams when he sleeps.

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