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[daniel-ink-ferullo-blog]

Silver Eye 2x06 - A Red Apple

His head pulsed so much that not even a temples massage could make it go away. He was sitting at a small desk  and in front of him there was a paper sheet with  many questions and few answers. Alice, leaning against a professor desk, looked at him while peeling a red delicious apple and shook her head slowly.

The hall was empty, there were only him and her in a sunny winter morning. «It's a basic test. Even an high school boy could solve it» she said with a sharp touch. The man scratched his head with the pencil gum and looked at the woman, «I've never been a model student.»

The woman gave a deep bite to the red apple and she looked at the man at the desk with her green eyes with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

«How many have you answered?» «5 of 20.» «Are you going answer to any other?» «I was thinking of filling the voids with smileys.» «You’re gross.» «But, no... I'm pretty good at drawing them.»

The woman bowed her head and took her palm to her face, as he laughed out loud.

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[daniel-ink-ferullo-blog]

Silver Eye 2x07 - 4 days after

He woke up in the room where, the previous day after his usual check up, his doctor, Sebastian Preston, had brought him. Like every awakening, his eyes bothered him, they burned like he had tiny embers stuck in his irises. Day after day he was forced to make a habit out of it.

He stood up and started to quickly dress up but, when he was putting his jeans on, they knocked at the door. He hopped on one foot, wearing first one leg of the trousers and then the other; as soon as he put his left foot in, it got caught in the crotch, making him fall squarely on the door. The door opened under his weight and he fell on the agent Sunners, who was waiting behind it. He tried to grasp her forms to find the balance, with the only result of having her blouse ripped open. Her scream, piercing like nails on a blackboard, roared through the building and it’s still narrated as a joke during after lunch coffees.

«Swine! » she added after the shriek and gave him a slap that resounded like a hammer blow on his teeth. She stood up almost immediately, adjusting her dress, while he was lying on his side, holding his sore cheek. Alice looked at him whining and, after a little, she crouched to take his hand away from his face: the hit part wasn’t red but silver.

«Hm ... Did this happen to you before? » she said seriously. «This, what? You hurt me, Agent Sunners! » he said, rising slowly in a sitting position.

«It’s nothing. You deserved it and you should thank me for holding back, otherwise you would be at the hospital now, thanking for not being three meters below the ground. »

«You are so drastic, Agent. »

«Last time, Silver! This is the last time, then I will send you to the moon »

«As if I’ve done it on purpose, as if there had been other times! » he said, losing his patience. She looked into his eyes and stood up, waiting for him to finish to dress up and then stretching out her hand. He stared at her, then he let her help him to get up.

From the bottom of the corridor came a martial figure with a slow and cadenced stride. Silver turned and smiled, «Agent Matros, to what do I owe the pleasure? » Under the light, the figure of the agent Frederic Matros became visible: a one-meter-eighty man who carried his sixty-five years well, short gray hair and a dark blue military uniform. Underneath the light, his military rank insignia and the light green buttons of his jacket were glittering.

«Good morning, Alice! Good morning, Silver! How are you today? »The girl glared at Matros and seemed very eager to rip his head off, while the smiling boy, on the contrary, shook his hand firmly.

«Let's just say I’ve been better... meeting Agent Sunners has always some" impact" on me. » he said laughing.

«I understand you very well! - he joined the laughter of the boy - one day you're gonna get used to it! Besides, if you’re lucky enough, you will be able to not give in to her charm. » said the man, looking at the girl with cold eyes.

«Agent Matros, I was taking Silver to the polygon for his first day of training. He'll have to learn to defend himself from those who want him dead. » she said, responding angrily to the man’s stare.

«Very well, Alice! The first day at the polygon is always an incredible emotion. I still remember mine: I never hit the target, not even once! Hahaha! » said Matros, vigorously beating the boy's shoulder in a paternal gesture.

«Good luck, boy! Always remember to give your all! » The agent walked away slowly, giving the two a gesture with his hand.

«Have a good day, Agent Matros! » replied the boy.

«Come on, idiot! » said Alice, angrily.

«What have I done, now? » he said, puzzled.

«You are alive and this is actually a problem for me. » she said, looking straight ahead. He was about to argue, but he noticed the fire of anger in her eyes and so he preferred to remain silent.

[daniel-ink-ferullo-blog]

Silver Eye S2x01

The Awakening part 1

Previously on Silver Eye ...

 An English gentleman, an umbrella full of TNT, the police and their beatings, the public death, the Interpol, a serum, the Silver A6, the apparent death, the new world and a woman with blood-colored hair: Alice.

After the presentation with Alice Sunners, he had fallen into a sleep that lasted about 3 weeks. His vital values ​​were normal, but he was close to a vegetative state. Dr. Preston followed carefully every movement or swing with great trepidation; he marked in his notebook every development and every distinctive element.

He was so close to his discovery that he felt like performing his "Eureka Dance", but he could not! Not when there was someone who could look at him and copy his magnificent dance. No, no... couldn’t do! Although... the patient was in a vegetative state... he would not wake up RIGHT in that moment. He checked the values, examined the eyes by opening the eyelids and, satisfied, put his notebook on the electrocardiogram machine.

He bent his knees, raising his arms to the sky and began to walk with his legs wide apart, raising and lowering his arms like springs. Once he arrived on the other side of the bed, he stood up straight on his back and, placing his hands on his hips, he improvised a Celtic dance, badly whistling a tune. Perhaps it was the sound of his messy footsteps or the off-key whistling that caused the awakening of the patient, that opened his eyes wide, screaming. Again.

Preston froze, petrified in an awkward and clumsy pose. He turned to look at him and, in that very moment, the doctor felt his face burn with shame.

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[daniel-ink-ferullo-blog]

Tunnel Of Love

Benvenuto lettore! Benvenuto al luna park dell’Orrore, lascia che mi complimenti con te per l’ottima scelta! Non troverai da nessuna altra parte il misto di paura, Raccapriccio e terrore. Lascia stare quello che i fratelli Hickberg dicono, non vendiamo carta straccia! Quello che abbiamo qui è ben altro, qui… Mostriamo l’orrore che si annida dentro il tuo cuore, gli istinti che albergano dentro di te e di cui hai paura più di ogni altra cosa.

Bando alle ciance, hai obliterato il biglietto? Bene! Benvenuto di nuovo lettore! Buona permanenza nel luna park più nero di tutti, il luna park d’inchiostro.

– Tunnel of love-

Le gallerie, i tunnel, sono dei canali che conducono da un punto ad un altro la cui traversata sarebbe difficile, se non impossibile, in natura. Questo pensava Richard quando tirava quella leva mandando avanti la carrozza successiva. In natura, infatti, questa giostra non sarebbe mai esistita. Come il resto del luna park potremmo dire.

Richard aveva ventisette anni e da dieci lavorava al “Coppia D’amore” la giostra classica di ogni luna park che si rispetti. Gigantesca insegna rosa formante un cuore, parole in bianco, cigni lattei e acqua limpida a cullare le coppiette che entravano innamorate e uscivano annoiate.

I sui compiti erano: tirare la leva che faceva partire il cigno, pulire le vetture, mantenere limpida (per quanto si poteva) l’acqua e a volte il botteghino. Gli era severamente proibito entrare nella sezione dei macchinari per riparare eventuali guasti o malfunzionamenti, un po’ perché non aveva l’attitudine del meccanico, un po’ perché i proprietari non volevano che qualcuno svelasse il mistero dietro il loro tunnel dell’amore.

La notte del 18 settembre 1964, Richard si ritrovò con una giostra bloccata e i proprietari che non si vedevano da diverse ore.

Si accorse del fatto quando, dopo aver tirato per l’ennesima volta la leva al secondo minuto, si ritrovò senza carrozze sulla corsia e la gente che aveva appena pagato aspettare interdetta. Richard si scusò con coloro che avevano già pagato il biglietto: Signori perdonate, la giostra sembra aver un problema… No, non si fanno rimborsi, ma! Se passate dal botteghino, metterò un timbro sul vostro biglietto che vi permetterà di… Si, capisco che è un disagio non da poco! Ah… domani non sarete in loco… Magari potreste lasciare il biglietto a qualche amico?

Richard aveva dovuto affrontare molto spesso queste situazioni, la maggior parte delle volte erano i proprietari a sistemare le cose o comunque a lasciarlo con i clienti mentre correvano alle riparazioni d’emergenza. Mai gli era capitato di restare solo in questi contesti critici, almeno fino a quel giorno.

Come era possibile che nessun cigno era tornato dal viaggio? Avrebbero dovuto percorrere il tracciato in 2 minuti e 15 secondi come sempre, al secondo minuto lui doveva tirare la leva e avviare la carrozza successiva mentre quella precedente faceva la foto ricordo nell’ultima sezione del percorso. Era evidente che nell’andirivieni tra la sveglia dei due minuti e le persone al botteghino non aveva fatto caso alla mancanza dei cigni in pista. Tirò la corda per chiudere l’accesso a eventuali nuovi avventori e rimase ad osservare la facciata della giostra.

Le lampadine rosa si alternavano ogni due secondi, come anche le luci esterne, dell’ingresso e  dell’uscita della giostra. Non doveva essere un problema elettrico. Si avvicinò alla fine del tracciato e si affacciò all’interno del tunnel per vedere se magari si fossero incagliate. Niente. quella parte era completamente vuota e ne veniva soltanto la musica di sottofondo della giostra. Il mistero s’infittiva e Richard non sapeva cosa fare.

Più che non saperlo, non poteva, potremmo dire. L’entrata della sala macchine era lì, socchiusa, con una leggera luce dorata che ne illuminava il battente. Il punto su cui però Richard fissava il suo sguardo erano i cartelli metallici, un po’ arrugginiti:

                                          “Non entrare”                               “Solo personale autorizzato”                                      “Pericolo di morte”

Fissava spesso quei cartelli quando terminava il suo turno di lavoro e una volta fu trovato in quella posizione da uno dei proprietari. Gli disse che, con la solita bonarietà, un giorno anche lui avrebbe varcato quella porta, ma solo quando sarebbe stato abbastanza grande. Erano passati 8 anni da quando gli era stata detta quella frase e forse, beh, forse ora era abbastanza grande. Si mosse verso la porta e dopo averla aperta vi entrò richiudendosela dietro.

La luce dorata illuminava l’entrata e parte della galleria che andava a continuare nel buio pesto. Man mano che gli occhi di Richard si abituavano all’oscurità, vedeva delle piccole lampadine che, con una fioca luce, disegnavano un corridoio. Passi su passi, Richard sentiva dentro di sé il senso di colpa e l’euforia di colui che infrange le regole e, man mano che camminava, avvertiva nell’aria un odore acre e penetrante che lo faceva sentire leggero.

Toccò i muri di legno e avvertì sotto le dita dei cavi che pendevano da un supporto all’altro aiutandolo, seppur lentamente, a camminare tra i barlumi di luce delle lampadine. Il buio lo preoccupava e intimoriva al tempo stesso, gli sembrava di camminare ormai da ore e ancora non aveva trovato niente che potesse ricondurre al guasto e, tra le altre cose, ai macchinari che permettevano il funzionamento della giostra. Iniziò ad avvertire la pelle bagnata, l’umidità del corridoio si mischiava con il suo sudore e sentiva sul viso come una nebbia palpabile che gli entrava nelle ossa. Si fermò un attimo per un capogiro e, quando riprese a camminare, si tenne maggiormente ai cavi.

Certo, essendo una giostra con un grosso quantitativo di acqua, forse era normale tutta quella umidità! E forse Richard non era lontano dalla verità o forse si sbagliava e stava percorrendo una strada pericolosa. Dopo l’ennesima curva finalmente iniziò a sentire qualche rumore in lontananza e man mano che si avvicinava distinse l’eco di una voce, una voce che… chiedeva aiuto! Richard iniziò a correre seguendo le luci e tra il rumore dei suo passi la distinse: era una donna che chiedeva aiuto. Arrivò finalmente in una stanza illuminata da un rosso scuro simile ad alcune luci dell’insegna. Ai lati vi erano macchine e ingranaggi che sembravano spruzzare ripetutamente dei fumi nell’aria. I cavi che aveva seguito fino a quel momento erano tutti collegati alle macchine e poi ad una donna distesa sul pavimento.

La donna continuava a ripetere le sue suppliche, Richard si avvicinò cercando di capire il da farsi, ma uno stato di panico e confusione gli negava il pensiero razionale e in più quella strana nebbia, rossa come la luce, gli bruciava gli occhi e annebbiava i sensi. La donna sembrava in trance e alle domande di Richard non rispondeva se non con suppliche d’aiuto. Il ragazzo seguii i tubi cercando di capire dove fossero legati e, una volta chinato sulla figura femminile, vide inorridito che questi entravano nelle carni della donna da più parti del corpo: braccia, gambe, spalle, addome e nuca. Cadde indietro e guardò il viso della donna, vi riconobbe una delle clienti a cui aveva timbrato il biglietto prima del guasto.

Il ragazzo urlò disperato, sentiva il cuore esplodere nel petto mentre la donna lo guardava supplicandogli aiuto. Non riusciva a sopportare quella situazione, quella scena inumana e la donna, che nonostante avesse tutte quelle “cose” in corpo, ancora parlava, ancora supplicava, non poteva esistere nella realtà… Forse, pensò Richard, era un sogno! Un incubo dettato dall’eccessivo stress dal lavoro. Quante volte d’altronde aveva sognato di entrare in quella porta misteriosa, capire come funzionasse la giostra. Era un incubo di sicuro e, se lo era, nulla poteva accadergli se avesse fermato quella litania di suppliche che gli stava trapanando il cervello.

Quella stupida donna, nonostante fosse in punto di morte da un po’, continuava a supplicarlo di aiutarla ancora e ancora e ancora, senza fermarsi, senza sosta, salvarla da cosa poi? Si salvano le persone da qualcuno o qualcosa! Per quanto era stupida probabilmente se le era ficcate da sola le cose in corpo! Richard si avvicinò alla donna e la intimò di stare zitta ancora una volta, glielo gridò in faccia con la bava alla bocca, ma niente, la donna continuava le sue suppliche ed il ragazzo, ringhiando come rabbioso, prese saldamente i tubi dal corpo della donna e li strappò via uno a uno con soddisfazione.

Insieme ai tubi vennero via pezzi di carne e organi che inondarono di sangue l’aria già satura del posto. Quando ebbe finito, della donna rimasero solo ossa insanguinate e viscere sparpagliate sul pavimento della stanza. Richard respirava affannosamente quell’aria pregna di fumo, sporco di sangue da capo a piedi, era in ginocchio vicino al fianco della donna. Si sedette a terra guardando il corpo martoriato, lo guardava attraverso le orbite spente e la sua espressione, nonostante tutto, era ancora di supplica, stava chiedendo aiuto, lo stava supplicando, in silenzio.

Urlò di disperazione graffiandosi il volto e, dopo essersi alzato, iniziò a tirare calci al volto della donna fino a renderne poltiglia. Quando ebbe finito, da un corridoio sentì un rumore familiare: l’eco gli portò altre suppliche disperate. Prese a correre come poteva in uno stato febbrile e allucinato lungo quella galleria che sembrava infinita e quando trovò la fonte delle suppliche, un ragazzo nella stessa situazione, non riuscì a contenersi.

Senza fermarsi a pensare, strappò da lui tutti i cavi, facendolo a pezzi con naturalezza e senza remora. Nella testa ancora quelle suppliche si ripetevano come le suppliche dell’inferno, l’inferno in cui era finito da quando era entrato nel canale di manutenzione. Riprese a correre e man mano che incontrava uomini e donne, ne riconosceva i volti, erano quelli che non erano tornati dalla corsa. Li uccise uno dopo l’altro senza neanche fermarsi a pensare, senza pietà né cautela. Quando ebbe finito con l’ultimo, la giostra si spense e con lei.

Richard aveva capito: la giostra veniva alimentata dalle persone che vi entravano… Perché non ci aveva mai pensato? Si accasciò vicino a uno dei macchinari e scoppiò in una risata isterica che risuonò malsana in tutta la giostra.

Poco più in là quattro coppie sedevano smembrate nei candidi cigni, bloccate dal gancio di sicurezza. Dalle casse risuonava “Help me” dei Beatles mentre un ragazzo rideva e farneticava in una pozza di sangue non suo.

[daniel-ink-ferullo-blog]

A young Jeurut

He travel from branch to branch

They tell of a Jeurut who loved to move among the trees of the forest of Firoet, escaping every time from the danger of the rival tribe. So many times he had escaped death and so many times he had spared his opponents.

Destiny was fatal to him when it pushed too far into the forest, finding among the trees the shining artifacts of the ancients. The traditions tell to get away from them, but the young Jeurut didn’t want to hear it and went into a crumbling structure that was pulsating a furious red.

Inside there were the statues of strange beings, taller than the tallest Jeunit, almost as slim much as cousin Marnet's tree. "Abominations of nature!" he thought ... but strangely fascinating. He continued to explore the building by following the lines of pulsing red until he found himself in front of a mirror room. Most were shattered on the floor and only one was intact. The lights flowed to the base that supported it: some kind of tangled tree that held this mirror in its center, which reflected everything in front of it, including the Jeurut.

He analyzed the mirror from all sides, sniffed it, spoke to him! But nothing seemed to disturb the thing he was looking at. In his head the words of the elder tree: "Do not touch the ancient artifacts, they are bearer of death!" But Jeurut was still young. Too strong was the temptation to lose such an occasion. He touched the mirror, first with one of three fingers: it was cold, electrical, but it did not create pain. He laid then all his hand, and when the hand covered the surface, the pulsating stopped, illuminating the entire circular room.

Full of wonder, the Jeurut looked around finding facets that he had not noticed before; When he looked back at the mirror there was no longer the reflected room, but a gray haze and a being watching him.

They were as short as he was and were the same as the beings he had seen in the statues; Hazel-colored, they had a peak curved backward, two small and dark cracks that closed and opened, and another crack that seemed to be a mouth. They did not have leaves, grass or flowers on themselves, so for sure they were neither a Jeurut nor a Jeunit! But they had something covering their lower body, from under their mouth to where they were sitting.

They bowed their head to the side and put their hand with four fingers where the young tree had rested his. They seemed to smile for a moment and this inspired confidence in the young Jeurut. But everything changed when the mist grew red, the light in the room shone even more crimson and it was a moment. As the young man was distracted looking at the light, the being tightened their hand on his, pulling him inside. The Jeurut, caught on surprise, couldn’t do a thing and found himself in the red haze without knowing how. He turned and saw the being in the room, slowly beginning to grow in height. He followed him until he could through the mirror, but a noise behind him attracted him.

A Jeunit hit him on his head a couple of times, he turned to look at him, scared, and a little bit later he saw other shapes from his planet set in the fog, one for every destroyed mirror in the room from which it had been torn. At the bottom, from the fog, he saw a light changing its colors and repeatedly pulsating until he heard the noise of a shattered mirror.

Everything happened so fast! The Jeurut did not know where to look at and at some point he could see nothing at all, because when the red was added to the other colors, everything became black and, from there, he saw a new light at the end of the tunnel.

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[daniel-ink-ferullo-blog]

Silver Eye S2x03

The Awakening part 3

The doctor was sitting in a chair across the room, he was watching warily at Silver and meanwhile he was eating slowly a leg he was holding in his hand. The boy looked at the doctor and he turned his thumbs faster and faster until, arrived at full speed, the two fingers met.

«At least, may I know who you are?» said, exasperated. «Preston. Sebastian Preston: scientist and lover of genetic do-it-yourself» he said seriously after swallowing. «Ok... Nice to meet you... can I go now?» said the boy impatiently. «Suuuuure! First there are the scrutiny, then the CAT, then the blood test, then... » the doctor continued with a string of names and processes, shaking the leg in his hand like a metronome.  «...and then, maaaaaybeeee, you can get up and maybe go to the cafeteria. Until then, you're under observation.» «Oh, then I'll have to stay here for at least another two or three centuries, practically?» The doctor's eyes widened. «What? Why did you come up with this? You feel strangely long-lived, by any chance? Or, I don’t know, younger? Eh? Eh?!» the doctor put his leg on a plate next to him and, with his hand still dirty, went up to the patient starting to examine arms and face. «But... haw gross! You have filthy hands, doctor!» said the boy, seeing the greasy chicken fat staining his skin. «Eternal life? Eh? The youth serum? Eh?! Then???» the doctor became more flushed and feverish, in addition to being visibly shaken. «It was a joke, doctor! A joke!» he said, trying to wipe the dirt on the sheets. The doctor meanwhile stopped and looked at him angrily. «You should not deceive a poor scientist this way, young man. In addition to being a joke of poor taste, it is bitter towards science that supports you with its immense love. Do not do it!» the man, after pointing out each syllable with his index finger, went into the bathroom to wash his hands.

Someone knocked at the door and the boy invited them to enter: first, he saw her blood red hair descend down on her shoulders like silk, then her face and finally the rest of her body. He was enchanted by the vision of Alice Sunners that came into the room with extreme grace.

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[daniel-ink-ferullo-blog]

Silver Eye S02x02

The Awakening part 2

He saw everything flooding in silver: the walls, the windows, the people, even the electrocardiogram beeps, now following one another as fast as a machine gun, sounding liquid. Everything was dripping like wax from a candle, from the chandelier to a hole in the center of the room. In front of him, standing in a strange pose, a grizzled man was watching at him. The doctor’s cheeks became slowly of a darker shade of silver, while silver drops slid from his hair to his chin. The beeps were slowing down as he looked around; then the doctor put himself together and walked beside the machines near the bed.

«Wel... come back to us! Hehehe» said Dr. Preston as he approached him. What he saw in that silver river were the doctor’s movements cutting through the liquid, while the words materialized in the room from his mouth and then dissolved in the light.

«Where... am I?» said the patient.

«You are in our recovery ward... You slept a lot, young man!» said Preston, jotting down the vital values of the patient on his notebook.

«Who am I?» asked the patient and, as soon as these words came out of his mouth, they went to position themselves just above the doctor’s head. They changed slowly, as if they were liquid ink, to form the word "Silver". The doctor looked at the man, puzzled, and drew closer to his face.

«Funny... Don’t you remember anything about your past? Not even what's your name? This... is a problem, young man! And this strange color of your eyes is... unseemly. Anyway, how about naming you... "Silver"? Just for now, until your memory comes back.» The doctor looked seriously worried and, when he said that word, the letters above his head dissolved in the air.

«Silver...» the man repeated, then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, all the silver was gone and the doctor gave a little jump back, frightened.

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[daniel-ink-ferullo-blog]

Corsi facendo forza sulle mie gambe bioniche. L'unica cosa che volevo era raggiungerla prima che scappasse via da me. Troppo Tardi mi accorsi di quanto fosse pericoloso perseguire i propri obiettivi.

//Soggetto 45 (in libertà vigilata)