Alberto Pavan Art

Short stories3. Narrow street 2

:- Boa Noite the female said to him with an accent that was surely not from any Latin country, Swedish, he thought, or Finnish . He smiled back:- boa! He said back in the way he heard the locals replying to the greeting.:-Obrigado! The man said. Off they went, As soon as they disappeared from his vision he realised he was still flattened against those walls; those walls that just few minutes ago seemed to be pulsing, organic. An expression of deep repulsion appeared on his face and he unglued himself from them. A crescendo, but very fast this time, of all the unpleasant, unnatural sensations filled his mind once again as if they were taking him back at the point where they left him. He was soon back at the point where he was telling himself to look straight ahead.
:- Remember….Remember… Remember …..He was able to decipher from the cacophony of white noise that engulfed him. He had no idea what he was supposed to remember. With a mixture of extreme fear but also relief, he was now facing the last tract of the passage. The small tunnel, the darkest. Spot. Dark it was. He did not see anything, but he had a periferal orange feeling as if the walls were emanating an orange glow that had no business being there.
:- Come! He heard clearly, he almost looked in the direction of the command, but stopped himself in time. He was running now and he kept running until he saw the blueish tectangle that was the exit. Went through it and he was out. Safe. All gone, melted away like snow under the sun. Back into an ordinary, mundane reality. Rational and reason returned to reign unchallenged.

This episode, however, for Amedeo was devastating. He experienced something fantastic, twice, in the same place and in the same way. What did that implied? That he had to make room for a plethora of irrational suppositions, in his perfectly rational, well adjusted, comfortable atheist view on reality? That he had to accept the possibility of ghosts? Unearthly presences?
:- Certainly not! He said aloud. He walked home, with a steady, secure step. Arrived fast at the condo. Saw himself in, got to the flat. Automatically he went in the open-plan kitchen selected fresh pasta, a jar of pesto he already made. New potatoes , ruccola and Parmesan cheese, He had everything ready to cook a delicious dinner in 5 minutes, once the rest of the group arrived. He microwaved the potatoes, made a salad with the ruccola and Parmesan shaves and emulsified a simple vinaigrette. He picked up a bottle of wine from Chile. Cabernet . He sincerely hoped it was decent enough to be able to drink it. That was one thing about Brazil he did not like; wine was outrageously overpriced and the quality poor. In fact, usually, they replaced their daily wine with beer and cachaca, but that was a special occasion. At least, it was for Amedeo.

Eventually his lover with the rest of the friends arrived, Good mood, chats, clicking of glasses, Agatha and Loredana were the first to enter the shower, kindly enough, they went in together, to save time and water. None of them had was a prudish and they all felt perfectly comfortable with each other nudity, so, the two women left the bathroom door wide open in order to keep up with the conversation and feel active in the group. Agatha was not always annoyingly look down on the actions she felt too infantile, too juvenile for people their age,that the other were guilty of doing. Her knowledge about art, literature, general culture politic, music was undeniably vast and deep. Once she had a couple of alcoholic drinks she was able to throw caution to the wind and allow herself to loose that reserve who made her appear a bit stuffy and aloof. She could talk with knowledge and depth about many subjects of interest to all of them. Amedeo considered her as a confidante; mainly because she was the most external to the group and, he hoped, because of this, more likely to keep herself objective. Also because he knew her the list and he felt less embarrassed to tell this non-sensical story, about which, he felt ambivalent. It was conflicting with his values, all based on reason and avoided of any irrational connotation.

The dinner unfolded with success, the dishes were tasty and light enough to suit the hot weather; the wine was not at all bad; the conversation easy, fluent, the atmosphere was chilled and relaxed. Music was in the air. It was a selection of Bossa Nova, MPB, Italian author songs, Italian divas, Brazilian Funky, 80s music, mainly British, and, at the persistent request from Moreno, some Latino tunes to which was impossible not to make at least few dancing steps.

Milton and Gemma were in the rota to wash up. No dish washer in the flat. They tried to get one, but couldn’t fit it in. Amedeo who shared with the rest of the people the remaining ready-made joints, was now swinging himself on a hammock, trying to work up a way to tell the story that did not sound as if he lost his mind. The truth was, that nothing really happened. All there was to say was that he had experienced a range of feelings that started with uncomfortableness and developed into a sense of pure fear, panic. But if he had to say what exactly made him feel so scared, he wouldn’t have had an answer.

:- Agathas, he said.:- I have the feeling that you may be the best person to tell something. Agatha was pleasantly surprised, Her wife and him, usually, were like two teen-agers. Always colluding and gossiping. She felt left out by this comradely her woman had with this gay guy and she had negative feelings about him, although she was trying to put up at her best as it would have been difficult to be antagonistic in his regard. Just one of the many compromises that one needs to keep a relationship going. This request for talking in confidence to her was unexpected and unusual, but she welcomed the opportunity to be his confidant.
:-fire away, she replied. :- Well… I had a panic attack today. For no reasons. In the Rua do Amor, from where it narrowed and turns dark to the very end.I sensed a non-justified situation of danger. Like if somebody were after me. wanted to do bad things to me. He made an attempt to describe the details of the event, but he was aware that, by just reporting the facts, it all sounded to say the least preposterous.

:- You had a panic attack. You gave a misinterpretation to natural causes; you dressed things up in a horror-like manner, probably because of your interest for such fiction mixed with some unease you have been experiencing without being aware of. What’s the problem? Panic attacks come! they can come to anybody! One is stressed, build up adrenaline in the system, doesn’t even realises it until, all of a sudden, PA! The attack. They also go! Agatha stated. Don’t feed it, don’t dwell over it. The more you stress the more likely for you is to get the next. And, by the way, if you recognised it as an effective panic attack you are at a very good point. People gets into denial. They don’t want to own up to the responsibility of creating their own monsters At least you are clear. Beside, this is the first time that something like this has happened to you!
:- Wrong, Amedeo said
:-Wrong. Not the first time. I had it before. :-Yeah? She said. :- and when was that? Does Milton know?
:- No he doesn’t; to tell the truth I don’t know how to tell him. He knows me and love me for being Mr Rational, and now I tell him this bunch of nonsense! He’ll freak out! He won’t know how to take it. I can just picture it.
:- How many suppositions, how many guess, Agatha stated. :- you are imagining a scenario that could go very differently. I think you are short-changing Milton. He is clearly so much into you that he will squeeze out any possibility of empathy from his body to give it to you. Really Amedeo! It is not that much of a big deal!
:- Yes, but there is more to it….Amedeo said:- I think i saw something, heard something. Something that …. It made me think of…. You know…. Supernatural. Amedeo, as soon as he said it, he regretted it. Now he was questioning himself if Agatha was the right person to confide in. She probably thought him mad.However, If she did, she didn’t showed it one bit. She kept her cool and progressed to reassure him with good sense, trying to decrease his state of building anxiety that now was visible. :- Shall I tell Loredana? She asked:- you two are old mates, she will support you. She may even help you to re-dimension the whole story
:- Please don’t. Said him. :- can you do me a massive favour? Do not tell anyone. If you tell Loredana, she’ll might think to be helpful and take some initiative without consulting me first. I am glad I told someone, Now, I think ther best I can do is not to allow it to repeate and try to forget.

That night Amedeo had sex with Milton in an unexpected way to both of them. They had very rough sex. It was the type of sex they had when they were dating, when they were a newly formed couple and the sexual sphere with each other was all to be discovered. They had little knowledge of each other’s bodies, There still was that hunger typical of a beginning of a story. After 15 years of relationship and 5 of marriage, the sex changed. It was much more of a domestic nature, safe, functional, time-effective. The two men were completely aware of such dynamic and accepted it in full, with wisdom and serenity. Yes, passion was no longer the reason why their marriage worked, but there has been a lot of that in the beginning and for many years after. The two of them explored all the possibilities in the field of sex and pleasures, each possibility in a few colours and size. With a sexual history of that calibro, they eventually embraced affection and warmth over “fuck me, stranger” . The passion of the discovery of sex with a new man mutated into intimacy, comradely , friendship, kinship. Family. That night, however, Amedeo made love to Milton as if they met for the first time today. There was all the rage, need to possess, need to blend into one, latent cannibalism and violence they had in the very beginning. Amedeo wanted to have Milton in him and he took him just brutally sitting on the lover’s cock with no foreplay, with no preparation, he did it this way because he wanted to feel a degree of pain. He wanted to feel his lover hurting him, which it certainly did, and he kept the pushing back merciless for himself. Once that Milton understood his lover’s mood, he responded with confidence to the lover’s silent request and began to push himself into Amedeo with all the vigor of a fighter. Amedeo was already planning to take his revenge and, when Milton, with a great deal of noise, reached the pick of the orgasm, Amedeo, who edged himself, controlled his rhythm and was able not to em[pty himself. He waited for that moment usually dedicated to kisses and caresses after penetration, when both parties are satisfied and he slapped Milton’s face. Milton was still inside him. Amedeo was conscious of his lover’s cum filling him. He unplugged himself from Milton’s cock but held his man from a lock of hair. Milton was not naive enough not to know what was coming. His head, still held from his quiff, was pushed down at the level of Amedeo’s cock. Milton was faced with the turgid erection of his husband and had no choice but swallowing it.

It did not last long, as Amedeo, with a well balanced mixture of tenderness and violence, grabbed Milton’s shoulders and positioned him on all four, over the bed. He stood up from behind and penetrated his lover without any thought to preparation. His lover, who just came, was no longer hard. He allowed the tempestuous tide of his husband to crash into him, feeling all the pain Amedeo was inflicting on him. Milton allowed all this to take place willingly and fully consenting to it; he was also very experienced at playing up to the boundary between consensual and abusive sex. The safe-word (Stromboli) hey set up at the very beginning of their relationship, when they still considered one another fuck-buddies rather than boyfriends, has never been used in their 20 years of relationship. Milton was not going to use it now. Milton, once he adjusted himself to Amedeo’s size inside him and got comfortable with the rhythm enough to be even able to push back, caught himself thinking :- if I were to say Stromboli. would Amedeo even remember it? If I wanted him to really stop, which he didn’t, but would he stop?

This thought troubled him. It was a distraction from the sex. He felt split. Half of him was lost in the delirium of matrimonial bliss, the other half was worrying that his husband may have been raping him. He had to know. As a matter of fact, the word imbibed with that powerful meaning, so powerful that none of them felt ever the need to use it during their love making, not even when it took the direction toward the exploring of the relam of sadomasochism, in that circumstance did the job.

:- Stromboli! Milton declared, loud and clear. It all stopped immediately. Amedeo was out of him and already walking toward the bathroom. He was silent. Looking down. Milton was both reassured and relieved and, what!… disappointed? Disappointed that his lover didn’t loose his decency while fucking him? That the desire didn’t blind him beyond the acceptable limit? That was crazy. Milton knew he didn’t want that from Amedeo.

:-you have never chickened out before! If I am not wrong, this is the first time. What was it? Amedeo asked returning from the bathroom, as cool as they come, as if that kind of love making was nothing unusual.

:- I was caught by surprise. Said Milton. :- Everything was going great, when I begun to think what triggered you to this sex. Let’s face it, we weren’t on this wave for a very long time. And don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining, but I couldn’t help myself from thinking why tonight? It distracted me and i lost the momentum

For a very long second, Amedeo considered telling him the truth, which it would have been something like :- I needed to exorcise a horrible feeling of blind terror, I have experienced tonight for the second time when i took the narrow street to return home. I don’t know what it was, but I felt like if I was about to loose my mind. I needed to feel alive, made of flesh, having sex. This he would have liked to say.

What he did say instead was :- It was a while we didn’t play together, the hot weather made me strangely horny. And with that he ended the discussion. Milton was still puzzled, but decided to let go.

Amedeo turned off the small light to indicate he had all the intention to sleep.

Short stories3. Amedeo & Milton

Short stories3. Alika


Amedeo was all dressed up, He was wearing one of his few fetish outfit he kept, just in case… There was a time when Milton and him, used to go shopping for fetish gear, to make an entry in some fetish club or other they used to be regular punters. There was a time they were in more than one guest lists in the trendy clubs in town, notorious for catering for a uninhibited clientele who were not shy of having public sex of a particular nature. Different events were specialised in different kinks. Fisting, Boots, city gents, piss, and so on. They both enjoyed the thrill of these places and liked to make a stand. They both were vain enough and good looking enough to want to look a bit different from the crowd in leather pants and harness and enjoyed to come up with inventive solutions, customising a mixture of sex-shop purchased clothes, with charity shops items to come up with eccentric, fetish outfits different from the usual uniforms everybody wore.

With time, they began to attend to these “soirées” less and less. In the last couple of years, they didn’t go at all out. After the pandemic, those clubs didn’t feel safe.Most of all, they were no longer that keen in that type of entertainment. They returned to the charity shops most of the clothes they used to wear.

Amedeo, however, kept a couple of the favourite outfits. Just in case.

In that occasion he was wearing one of them: a pair of rubber shorts, with many added on studs and a sort of rubber garter that held rubber stoking, white socks over the rubber stoking, black sneakers, with silver elements, A short tankTop made of metallic net,and various rubber straps over the body.

In the cooking heat, the rubber was highly uncomfortable, too sweaty. He looked back and he saw the colourful lights of the Rua do Amor, before it took the narrow turn. He looked ahead and the gap of grey cement was in front of him like a cut , an open wound , narrow and tender.

He advanced into it. The heat made the smell more intense, whatever was festering on the pavimento of the narrow street was oozing a stench hardly bearable.

He felt like if he was having a bad nightmare, In fact, he questioned himself :- am I even here? What if I am dreaming all this? But the whole scenario appeared solid enough to disregard the possibility of being dreaming.

He advanced with caution and, after few steps into the narrow street, he looked at the walls. Contrary to what he told himself NOT to do, he wasn’t looking ahead, but he turned his head to examine the walls. These seemed translucent, awkwardly organic. No longer the grey cement was delimitating the space of that rough passage, but two membrane of jelly were pulsing instead. They seemed to be oozing orange stuff. What was it? Spit? Rot?

He looked ahead and saw a shape walking toward him from the dark the shape was against the sun and he couldn’t make out what it was. But it must have been sunset because in a few minutes it was dark The shape, in the dark, had its own glow and he saw a female shape, dressed in a metallic net similar to the one he was wearing. She reminded him of a young Jane Fonda…. Or maybe Brigitte Bardot She looked at him.

:- Who are you! Amedeo said?

:- what? You don’t recognise me? The female creature said. :- it’s me, actually…. It’s you!

:- you used to draw me all the time when you were experimenting with the making of your own comic. You were heavily influenced by Barbarella, the film, the comic. You were so obsessed with her that you started to want to create one of your own. You created me. I am the fruit of your imagination, I am a fragment of your unconscious minded. You gave me a name. You decided I was Alika, You gave me life through a comic of your own creation, It wasn’t very good… Pretty much a copy of Barbarella, too similar to it to be any good for publishing. You kept me for yourself. ….But you never finished my story. I have been lost in the maze of your unconscious mind for decades. I will end up contributing in a microscopic percentage to the collective unconscious…. She said with a laconic slant in her voice.

:-what do you want? Amedeo said. :- me? Nothing, I do not want anything! I think you are the one that want something.

Amedeo was shaken up enough not to be able to find anything to reply to her. She went on:- You have been asking to yourself what’s happening to you. You have been thinking about this street for days! You were obsessed with me before! All your collections of comics with some heroine in them, some variations on Barbarella, you used to dream of drawing your own comic-novel, and you always evoked me, your female alter ego, the character of your never-materialised comics! Now you seem to be obsessed with the street.

:- Yes, said Amedeo. :- Yes, I am! :He said.

And she:- and I am here to tell you all about it. You have been able to stimulate some receptors that in most cases don’t even react, but, in your case, these receptors of yours have given you the ability to sense that something interesting is hidden here. No, no! Don’t flatter yourself. You are not special, not a sensitive, not a medium, nothing of the kind. You have been ….. lucky?… you took that hallucinogenic cookie in a particular moment of your life-span, in a rare situation when, at a cosmic level, things were in turmoil and the layers of the many world were thinner, not because of you, of course, but because an accumulation of reasons, the hot-humid weather, the time of the year, the badness that your species has done to your world, the general state of confused alert mankind is experiencing, plus, in your case, the level of experience you have, yes, this is something that relates uniquely to you, I’ll give you that, the mood you were in the first time you took the shortcut, the neurotransmitters you were producing at the time, To make you understand, you were in the Goldilocks situation, in the same way this world has been in the Goldilocks situation when it started to produce, for the first time the environment capable to host life; a one in a billion chance, rare, but it can happen.

:- ok! Stated Amedeo. :- I still am not sure about who you are, but you gave me a big lecture about a rare state of coincidences that worked toward making me feel that way, but still I have no idea why, and what all this means! Can you be more forthcoming? More generous with your information?
:- information that you already have. She stated :- don’t forget that I already told you that I am you. I am a piece of your unconscious mind, I could have been many other things, take many other shapes, but, considering that what I am going to tell you something that is hard to digest, I thought of causing you the least possible discomfort…. After all.. I am you! Obviously I know you well… I know you are fond of this shape, you may play tough, but just the sight of me makes you mellow…. No, no, don’t say anything. I know. I am you. Alika took a long pause, as if she was collecting herself, ordering her ideas. She inhaled deeply, shook her main of bluish hair, and started to talk again.
:- well, you must have heard of the theory of parallel universes, yes, I know you know what I am talking about, the fact is that most people imagine them to be variations of the reality they know, perhaps in a reality one is rich, in one he is poor in one he is married, in another he is single, stuff like that. The truth is that in the majority of these universes, there is so little they are easy to disregard. Most of them are the variation of a universe just before one of the infinite Big Bangs, when, by definition, there was nothing. But, in truth, something was there,or else from nothing, nothing would have happened. I guess, I can give you an idea in Mathematical terms. just to give you a visual example. Think of the most basic equation: 0-0=0 correct?
:- Well… yes, but what on earth has this got to…..
:- Give me a chance, will you? … So, we were saying 0-0=0.Now think! For each number existing, it also exist, by definition its opposite. For every existing 1, we have its opposite -1, Like for every atom, there is its opposite anti-matter-made neutron. Ok? Every number has it’s opposite and the same happens for the particles that constitutes what we perceive as matter. We can always boil it down to 0. 0-0=0 ; 1-1=0; 2-2=0 and soo on. And the same it is if you consider this equation written in a more complex way1+ (-1)=0! Clear no? However, in this formula we have a movement. 0 is not the rap presentation of nothingness, but of everything-ness which 0 itself because it contains everything plus its opposite which it gives 0 as a final result. So the N2 is equal 0 because in 0 is contain the duality of everything and its opposite; whiteness contain blackness, Positive contain negative,Love contain hate. In 0=2, 2 represent the duality of things and creates an anomaly. The anomaly is the Big Bang! Said Alika.
:- what the…. Started Amedeo, but Alika didn’t miss a beat! :- nth, nth, nth . She went on. :- no interruptions, this is just the starter.! So you agree that whatever number you replace the 0 with, the result would be always 0, and 0 is always 2. I mean, 0 is 0, but it could be interpreted as the adding of two elements that end up giving us a 2. I repeat 1+(-1)=0. 2389 + (-2389)=0, 1978+(-1978)=0. Numbers are infinite and there are infinite 0 you can come up with. Each one is also =2. If you see mathematic in an ontological way each 0, can be interpreted as a 2, 2 is the spark of something, not necessarily life, but, never the less something and this is the something that created this Big Bang and infinite others! Infinite, This is why in the infinite-ness we have been able to find a situation which it is the Goldilocks situation for life.

She continued :- This Goldilocks situation is extremely rare, but, if you put it to an infinite number of possibilities, there are quite a few, would you imagine? There are actually infinite Goldilocks situations, floating in a even more infinite possibilities where very little has happened from that moment that triggered that initial Big Bang..

She paused a long time for effect and also to let it sink in Amedeo’s spinning head. She adjusted her metallic bra, revived her hair and and asked Amedeo to light up one of his already made joints.

Amedeo was too spaced out to react. He didn’t respond. He kept looking at her and at his fingertips, as in them he might have found anything to say to this unusual creature who stated to be him. She repeated the… what was it? A request? An order? A suggestion?

:- I am not talking for myself, I am talking for you. It may be easier to grasp these concepts if you can unhinge from your prefabricated way of thinking and you let your mind go free. Trust me on this. I am talking in your best. Interest.

Amedeo searched the pockets of the shots he was wearing and found one of the joints. He gave it to her, she lightened it up and Amedeo felt immediately the effect.

:- don’t be so surprise! She stated :- I am you, after all; I smoke, you get high; Anyway, in this dimension, like in any other, there are portals that make a bridge between one dimension and another. There are so many of these portals that they are practically everywhere. But the majority of these portals take you nowhere. Dimensions where almost nothing has happened, some with embryonic life, simple life forms at a protozoic level, some with even less, Too much of a nothing to even register in even the most sensitive, trained mind who seven looking for them, but some, are fully built realities, some of them very similar to this one, the way people generally picture parallel realities, some of them are fully fledged realities but extremely different from this one. Some of them are so intense, they have such a magnetic time-space pull, that have been perceived in other dimensions, some of them are the seed for myths, legends, even the whole religious ideas come from the spillage in a dimension from another powerful parallel dimension. Or because one element from another dimension is, somehow, for the most different reasons an under the most different circumstances, travel from one dimension to another, or because the contact between the two realities is too strong, the boundary too thin.

Continue on Short stories 4

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