Tag Archives: thriller

NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo 2016 16 – Indice


Aeroporto, lo vidi per la prima volta in

Bar, è solito far colazione al

Come, non tanto il perché quanto il

Disse, mi stupì il modo in cui lo

Estero, non avevano giurisdizione una volta all’

Follia, dubito sia stato un attimo di

Gioia, non stava esattamente esultando per la

Hhhhk, sentii un suono strangolato, tipo

Insensata, non mi aveva convinto questa mossa

Lugubre, come locale mi sembrava un po’

Male, come si fa a volergli del

Notte, vorrei iniziare la scena di

Orrori, ne aveva visti di

Perdonare, era la migliore di noi a

Quanto, era rimasto lì chissà da

Resti, ne trovarono solo i

Saluto, trovai solo il tempo per un

Tabarro, chi indossa ormai il

Untore, grida di “Dagli all’

Vizi, ma di sicuro aveva pochi

Zona, rimasero appostati in


(Suggerimento da Napowrimo.net 12, poesia creata inventando un indice per una storia non esattamente esistente.
Assist di Thomas Brendler.)

NaPoWriMo 2015 Day 24 – Nothing


‘The child’s laughter is pure until he first laughs at a clown.’

I never really thought about those words. They were just a little note from the early years, when I was still looking for inspiration. I do remember them though, even now. When I was pure. Before I laughed. Before I smiled. The words make me smile.

you are nothing

I cannot remember the first time. The first sound. The first smile. I was not pure the first time. I knew who I was, but I knew nothing. I was nothing, really. But I was inspired, I was passionate. It filled something. I remember the first time.

you are

So I tried again. Hiding my face. In fear. Anxious, nervous, excited. Facing the truth.
Help rebuild from inside. Bring a smile to their face. Sounds of pure laughter. Again.
And again.

you are the son of man

‘Nothing will come of nothing.’ Another note? Same book I think.
I cannot make myself out of nothing. Be pure.

And so I gather my tools, night after night, and choose my new face.
Night after night, the show must go on. I slide into the crowd, as nothing.
Search for a new one. I am nothing without a face. Nothing. Just a tool.

you are

Before I leave the room, I look in the mirror one more time.

Skin as white as bone, nose as red as blood, lips as blue as a corpse.
High-pitch laughter shrieking in the dark.


NaPoWriMo 2015 Day 3 – The Blue Dress


So, weirdest thing at work today. Father of two, happily married, shows up on my table.
Preliminary report is useful as always, but hey.

‘neighbours unsure about the events, no one appears to have heard anything,’ ‘twin girls (two) found playing on the landing outside the bedroom,’ ‘body on the double bed, inside the room’

Hah. Mostly inside the room, from what I saw.

He was wearing a blue dress that would’ve been too small, had the limbs not been ripped from the torso. As I said, mostly. The man’s face had been made-up by inexpert hands: too big a lipstick smile, too much shadow on the eyes, mascara tracks on cheeks. Very shaky, not a good job, but they knew what went where for the most part.

‘remains of tye-dye around mouth area,’ ‘possible poisoning,’ ‘forced ingestion’

He would’ve resisted being fed something. Even if he did know the person. But we did find something else for the report, in the wounds.

‘fragments of hard plastic and vinyl,’ ‘traces of glass,’ ‘synthetic fibre’

Their other father still hasn’t been found. We do know he’s dead, though. He has to be, with his arms and legs adorning his husband’s body. That blue dress really did not work on either, and the blood red was no improvement. Heh. Sorry. Morgue humour. But yes, limbs taken off one, stuck on the other, like a giant mix-and-match toy. Yeah, as I said, weird.

…what do you mean, what were the girls playing with?