Digital Insanity Magazine by Bruno Amaral

Unlikely Friends

Sat, 03 Feb 2018 00:28:48 +0000

This 41 year old man goes by the name of Philippe, a professor of history in a Parisien University. His knowledge on art, history and the crusades is unrivalled, as is his skill with ancient french. He captivates his students with a mastery of storytelling. People come from all over the world to have him appraise artefacts and masterpieces.

He lives in a modest one bedroom apartment in the center of town, and it’s saturday morning. Ever since he was young he didn’t need an alarm clock, having the shades partially open is more than enough.

Walking slowly to the kitchen, he pick a small copper cup by it’s handle, fills it with water putting it in the stove.

There is a knock on the door.

An old man stands in front of him. An anachronic man with a top hat and a walking cane, wearing thin glasses and a grey beard that is spread apart by a sincere smile.

— Bonjour Monsier Philippe!

“Bonjour Monsieur…” He pauses mid sentence, taking a closer look. “Lupin! Come in, come in! What brings you here?”

— How could you tell?

— The disguise is good but your eyes are the same, try wearing lenses next time. Coffee? What brings you here?

Philippe doesn’t wait for the reply, he adds water to the copper cup on the fire.

— I was in Lisbon, bored out of my mind honestly, after acquiring my latest crown jewel.

— It was you who took the Mona Lisa from the Louvre.

— Of course, my house in Lisbon needed a touch of class, you see?

— And coming to Paris cured your boredom? The addrenaline of getting caught I imagine.

— Funny thing about that… I was having my usual glass of red wine, admiring the river and the people when this sort of vagrant sits in front of me. I wish you should have seen him. He looked as if he had walked off the desert, ignored everyone in the restaurant and sat starying me in the eyes a lot like you just did. He smiled, and knew my name.

Phillippe was paying attention to both his story and the boiling water. Opening a can, poured two spoons of coffee and stired. As Lupin continued, Philippe could hear the stress growing in his voice, despite the efforts to hide it.

Placing two cups on the table, he slowly poured the coffee in both while Lupin, still a bit tense, sat in silence.

— Relax my friend, take a sip while it’s still warm. You know, this copper cup is a lot like the one I used to have when I first met you new friend, back in 1289 trying to run from the crusades.

Lupin freezes holding the cup of coffee close to his lips.

Photo Challenge 4

Tue, 23 Jan 2018 02:33:53 +0000

This challenge may be a bit harder.

What you are seeing is a copper cup to boil water and make coffee.

This new round ends January 28th.

Full of memories

Thu, 18 Jan 2018 02:42:16 +0000

“I am and always will be the optimist, the hoper of far-flung hopes and the dreamer of improbable dreams.”

This is what my friend used to say. He would understand me when I say now that this glass is not empty, it is full of memories. Because you see, this glass turns a chapter and a new story from what happened last night.

I was in Paris, at the Louvre. And the Mona Lisa is now neatly stored in my backpack.

You see, I suffer from boredom. It’s a chronic condition that doctors have tried to fix, with medication, meditation, therapies of all sort, long and short. It was not for lack of trying, and I did get tired of it all. So much I began to look for alternatives.

Fortunately, having stolen a precious necklace and made interesting investments and further enterprises, careful and delicate heists, money is not a problem.

But my life story is not important. What is important is what brought me here, to this nice café and restaurant in old Lisbon in the first day of the year.

You see, the holiday season is odd in many ways, one of which is the way we schedule work and time off. And more, it is as if people start thinking differently for those two months. I wanted to take advantage of that. I spent a great part of the year studying the Louvre and its people. Their schedule, their habits and even their names. A nice gentleman worked there, Leclerc, who had some amazing stories to tell. We shared beers after work a few times and I could have spent days listening to what he had to teach.

Being a janitor allowed me to access most areas of the museum and even to meet Cosette. She works in the gift shop and once in a while I would see her stroll along the art, with a smile on her face and a glow in her eyes. This morning, Cosette woke up to find a copy of her favourite painting, the sunflowers by Van Gogh. It’s not really a copy, I stole the original last year and replaced it with a decent forgery, purchased in a summer in Italy from my favourite counterfeiter. It will be vastly more appreciated in Cosette’s little apartment than in any museum of the world.

They will eventually find my trail, if they look behind the fake Mona Lisa and see my calling card in the back. They will however not find anything past the street, as I left in a private plane and bribed the air traffic controller that was on call.

And now, here I am, enjoying the winter sun in Lisbon and a meal with a nice glass of red wine. I wanted Rosé, however this will do.

You see now why I think this glass is full of memories? It culminates a plan that I was weaving for the last year, a year when I didn’t feel bored. A year when I met and enjoyed the company of Mademoiselle Cosette and Monsieur Leclerc. Wonderful people, with whom sharing the glass of wine would have been heaven. And now, I don’t know what is next. Maybe I will go back to Paris, as It would be thrilling meeting them again once the questioning of the disappearance of break in to the Louvre is sorted out and they stop questioning why, apparently, nothing was stolen.

Joana Rita Sousa

Era uma vez um copo. Parece que o optimista e o pessimista foram derrotados pelo realista, que simplesmente bebeu o que lá havia. E agora? Duas vezes meio cheio, de nada, ou duas vezes meio vazio, de tudo?

:: @brunoamaral :: https://t.co/5MCfcP65s4
— 🟣 joana rita sousa 🦄 💩💎 (@JoanaRSSousa) January 3, 2018

Luis Correia

breakfast, morning commute, meetings, work, lunch, gym, snacks and a long walk home.

there’s a glimpse of daylight in the sky, dusk is taking control now. cat purrs while I take my high heels off and opened a Chianti bottle. as always, there’s new arrivals at Netflix today and I choose one. bottle is now empty, glass will be soon. as I doze off, I wonder: “why?”

António Lopes

“Alcohol free 2018” #3wordsstories

Photo Challenge 3

Mon, 01 Jan 2018 16:59:39 +0000

Welcome to 2018 everyone!

The photo challenges continue, you have until January 17th to write a comment with your story. Can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Stories can be written in English or any other language, that’s why we have things like google translate.

Flip the Coin, Change the World

Sun, 24 Dec 2017 18:21:28 +0000

The year is 1289 and through the land the crusades are coming to an end. Knights and foot soldiers are making their way back home. None have won and both sides have lost.

A false knight is making his way north. He was a foot soldier that stole an armour and horse from a fallen knight. He defected under that guise, because no one dared question a man in an armour.

It was said that Italy was the best way back into Europe and his kin. Truth or lie, he was heading to the mediterranean either way.

Crossing the dessert towards the Carthage, he sits to rest until the scorching sun starts setting in the desert. Low on food, but still well rested, his mind insisted on playing tricks on him.

A figure begins to grow from the horizon. A traveler or merchant? As the figure comes closer, he sees a man with nothing but a walking stick. Seeing the knight, with his armour packed in the horse, the man sits next to him without saying a word. The soldier is restless, but acts calm and touches a dagger on his side to make sure it’s there in case he needs it.

The beggar doesn’t speak, and the soldier is confused. He gets up, goes to his horse and comes back with a bladder of water that he extends to his strange companion. The crusades were nothing but shit anyway, might as well start building bridges.

The beggar opens a huge smile with brownish yellow teeth.

This unusual trip continues towards the mediterranean, with both men sharing water and food they find along the way, trying to learn each other’s language and scrapping to keep a conversation.

And they spoken the same language, the soldier would have learned about his culture, about the tales of the Jinn, and even the war from the enemies' perspective. Yet this barrier also bridged the two men. The beggar was travelling away from the remaining front lines of the crusade, he had been around most of the earth. From the Mongolian steppe, to the shores of the Atlantic, and places yet to be mapped into our world.

The city begins to grow in the horizon and the beggar signals that this is where they split paths. Offering a coin and trying to explain that if he throws the coin up, he changes the world.

The soldier dismisses this as a talk about good and bad luck, and worries more about finding a boat that will take him north. It’s easy enough to find, for a man willing to trade a horse for safe travel.

It’s among the quiet waters of the mediterranean that he finally takes a long look at the coin. He does not recognise the face, or even the numbers. He flips the coin up in the air.

A city is on the horizon, it looks quite different but it is Rome, and the year is 2015.

João Filipe Mateus

Deixar decisões importantes para que a sorte decida, é para quem se pode dar o luxo de o fazer. E os dois tinham o luxo de soltar um cara ou coroa, para decidir o futuro. Não queriam o peso de tomar a decisão errada. Pegaram numa moeda e lançaram-na sobre a mesa. Nem a sorte decidiu. A moeda, por mais estranha das proezas, ficou de pé, a mostrar as duas faces para quem as quisesse ver.

António Lopes

The adventure begins. #3wordstories

Photo Challenge 2

Wed, 13 Dec 2017 15:34:58 +0000

Here’s a new photo challenge. If it goes as well as the first I may turn it into a series. https://brunoamaral.eu/categories/challenge/

This time, a new photo, the one above. The challenge is to write a story around the photo, everything goes. Write your story and post it as a comment here, or send it by email to bruno@amar.al

Every story gets posted here as a result and can be as big or small as you wish.

Submissions end on the 20th of December!

A Story in a Cup

Fri, 24 Nov 2017 18:23:58 +0000

He liked his coffee black. A quick espresso in a modest white cup resting in a matching saucer. She didn’t understand why. There was no sugar, no spoon, there was no need for a saucer.

She was different, she liked tea. Well, actually, she liked infusions and didn’t know it wasn’t tea. Camomile, lemon grass, mint, lime. The list went on, but it was never the atual tea leaf.

He was a painter, known for his strong brush strokes and saturated colours, strong images like his bitter coffee. She was a journalist, in love with him and the neo-communist party.

They lived in a small apartment in Italy, the only country to stay mostly untouched after the collapse of the crypto-currency economy and the civil war that followed. Big corporations now ruled mostly of the Europe and Northern Africa. China and the US were devastated barren lands by Trump’s feud with North Korea. Who could have known it would lead to such a devastating event?

Either way, that was in the past and it was time to focus on more important matters.

It was a sunny autumn morning and they were sitting face to face, slowly starting the day.

She is focused on her book while he sits down with the saucer and cup.

— Every morning for these last 2 weeks, you have your cup of coffee, with no sugar, and use a saucer. Why? Because, fuck logic.

He smiles, says yes, and gently rotates the saucer to show a shiny golden ring. Modest and elegant, yet strong enough to make her freeze and let go a shy smile.

I challenged others to come up with their versions. This was the result.

António Lopes

“She said no” #3WordStories

Pedro Moura Pinheiro

Pedro Moura Pinheiro “We found out that day that I was coffee, she was tea. I wasn’t meant to be.”

Joana Rita Sousa

“Pour some sugar on me”

Filipe Bernardes

He was a romantic. I chocked. It was never meant to be.

João Filipe Mateus

Naquele curto espaço de tempo, as palavras pareciam ocas. Sentia-lhe o arrependimento. Os olhos dela diziam que não sabia o que dizer. Levantou-se, pediu-me desculpa e partiu. Sem olhar para trás.

David Carvalhão

Ela convidou-me para um café a dois que iria durar o resto da nossa vida…

Photo Challenge 1

Wed, 22 Nov 2017 16:06:59 +0000

Here is a challenge. Write a story around this photo. You can do it in the comments or with an email to bruno@amar.al I’ll share mine later. Best ones get published on the digital insanity blog.

Here is a challenge. Write a story around this photo. You can do it in the comments or with an email to bruno@amar.al I’ll share mine later. Best ones get published on the digital insanity blog.

A post shared by Bruno Amaral (@brunoamaral) on Nov 22, 2017 at 1:42pm PST