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    Embers of Atlanta
    Embers of Atlanta
    Embers of Atlanta
    Ebook59 pages1 hour

    Embers of Atlanta

    By Laurentiu M. Badea

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    Dreams of lost past, a boy on the run, a man trying to make peace with his mistakes. Destinies intertwine in three mind-bending stories revolving around a single destructive factor, all converging in one concluding moment. They are embers, fallen from a great fire; some fade, some create conflagrations, and Atlanta burns around them.

    "Too tired to run away from the metal monster chasing him relentlessly through this foreign maze. Screaming and puffing, flaming jaws and hundreds of fiery eyes, jumping on the dome of stars to then dive back towards the derelict city, corroding everything it touched with its sharp centipedal limbs. How could he possibly escape this omnipresent demon?"

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLaurentiu M. Badea
    Release dateNov 17, 2017
    ISBN9781386132035
    Embers of Atlanta
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    Author

    Laurentiu M. Badea

    Laurențiu M. Badea s-a născut în faimosul an 1984 și a crescut într-un sătuc modest din inima Mehedințiului. A crescut printre cărți ponosite și salvate de la distrugere de către părinții săi, învățând să iubească literatura variată a vechii Biblioteci Pentru Toți, dar și scrieri moderne, obținute în special la premii școlare. În adolescență, și-a așternut gândurile în proză și poezie, dar nu a avut inspirația să urmeze chemarea literelor. În schimb, după terminarea liceului, a continuat studiile informatice, terminând apoi și un master în fizică, fără să lucreze apoi în aceste domenii. S-a angajat, însă, pe traiectoria pasiunilor în grafică și editare, colaborând din 2015 cu revista Cronica Studentului a FEAA Craiova și din 2018 cu ONG-ul Building Hopes, destinat educației non-formale, devotând timpul dintre comisioane și alte proiecte pentru a scrie. A început cu un blog personal în limba engleză, discutând teme legate de entertainment și postând idei de scenarii pentru film. Cu timpul, s-au adunat multe schițe extrase din imaginația neistovită. Pasionat de H. P. Lovecraft în mod deosebit, a început cu povești scurte, confortabile, dar cu genuri diverse și subiecte complexe. Prima poveste, Rămășițe, publicată într-o revistă de literatură SF și horror, a fost scrisă într-o perioadă foarte dificilă pentru autor. Apoi, au urmat altele, denumite "povești experimentale", scrise alternativ în limba engleză și română, publicate gratuit pe numeroase platforme online. Debutul printat a fost cu povestea Scânteile Atlantei, ediție bilingvă a unui thriller tensionant. Pokohan este ambiția autorului de a traversa limitele culturii și de a capta genul Fantasy prin ochi străini, dar nu fără cercetări minuțioase și aprofundări neobosite în miturile și legendele japoneze.

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      Book preview

      Embers of Atlanta - Laurentiu M. Badea

      I

      The Daughter

      She woke up in the morning sun's warmth, smelling apple pie and cinnamon all the way from the kitchen. Bear was cuddled tight in her embrace, as always, but he felt different somehow. Oh well she thought it's just a plush toy and she paid no further attention to whatever bothered her subconscious about him. When she finally decided to get out of bed, her feet fell numb on the floor, yet it was a wonderful numbness, as if she were floating over the colorful and fluffy carpet. The small bedroom seemed smaller than ever, but she had a good feeling about all of this, and the bright sunny day outside. It was so bright, in fact, she couldn't even see anything beyond the window, yet the room was filled with a hazy yellow light and shadowy leaves were dancing on the walls next to the door. Some dusty floaters in the sunlight almost made her sneeze, but she couldn't, no matter how much she tried to. It was long past the allergy season, right? It should be summer, July maybe, or August. She couldn't tell, and neither did she had any time looking for a calendar. Sweet pie was waiting to be eaten and she yearned for her mother's embrace.

      The steps down barely had any weight under her feet. She couldn't even feel herself running. The walls were still there, standing, covered in blue and white paper, with a texture she was always fond of. Pressed her cheek against the wall, listened to the cozy silence, then she jumped down to the floor holding on to the wooden railing. Closed her eyes and cracked a smile, danced her way into the living room. That's where the Christmas tree goes, she pointed out next to the fireplace, so Bear would know, and over there sits dad watching TV. The couch was old and slightly dirty, but they could never part with it. She could understand, as she felt the same about Bear. Santa placed him in a fancy box that she opened one Christmas morning. She knew there was no Santa and it didn't matter. I'm happy, she said as she threw Bear up in the air and twirled around with him. Spinning around made her feel dizzy, so she stopped to remember what she was doing there. Maybe a hot cup of chocolate or milk and some pie would ease her fluster.

      Her feet felt heavy as she made her way to the kitchen. Called for her mother, but no one returned an answer. Slowly, her hands pushed against the stubborn door, hoping to find a loving face on the other side. As the door finally gave up, she stumbled clumsily inside the kitchen only to find a gloomy darkness. The drapes were up, but light was still too shy to come inside. There was nothing on the table and the smell of pie was gone. Mom! she shouted, but the silence persisted, no matter how long she waited. Maybe she went out, she told herself. No note was left on the small yellow fridge, where there usually must've been one. As she dragged two chairs from under the table, the screeching on the hard kitchen floor filled every dark corner in the empty house. The little girl sat on one of the chairs, resting thoughtful with her arms crossed on the table, looking deeply at Bear sitting crooked next to her. Hours must've passed. There was no breakfast, no lunch. Her stomach rumbled aloud and ached, so she decided to leave. The front door was left ajar and wind was blowing it open. The sun was gone, storm clouds were now slithering over the sky, while the wind became piercingly cold. She was afraid to wander into an incoming storm, but the house she once knew was crumbling behind her until nothing was left to go back to. She hugged herself and walked alone in the harsh and foreign streets, holding tight to dear Bear. The neighborhood seemed familiar, like a distant memory that's not quite accurate anymore. It was a barren void, no soul in sight. Every rickety house and every wooden fence had been smeared with a bright red paint and writings that warned about someone named Sam.

      Sam is sorrow was carved on a chained garage door.

      Woe is Sam was painted on a neighbor's building on the other side of the road.

      Run away and Sam kills were scribbled on a fence and on the house next to it, with tar black letters.

      As she walked further down towards the park, where she used to go with her parents, more of these messages could be read, even on the pavement. All this eluded the little girl's comprehension, but she couldn't escape the feeling that it was her fault, somehow. She had to trudge through, wherever this path might take her. Maybe the answers would lie there, along with the smile she forgot back home. Maybe it's dust. Maybe on the end of this road

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