Surrealismo Stories

「 CELL PHONE NOVEL 」 In the quiet village of Ellcries, where cherry blossoms fall like forgotten dreams, Seamstry longs for a life beyond the one written for him. But some memories are not meant to be remembered. Some are meant to be found. And some blooms only once.

"اليقظة هي الجحيم الذي أُجبر على العيش فيه.. أما الأحلام، فهي موطني الحقيقي." بالنسبة لـ (رين)، الواقع ليس سوى ضجيج مزعج, تنمر في الأروقة، دراسة باهتة، وعالم مادي يفتقر للروح. لكن خلف جدران غرفته المظلمة، وفي اللحظة التي يغمض فيها عينيه، يبدأ عالمه الحقيقي بالتجلي. بموهبة "الحلم الواعي" الفائقة، لم يعد رين مجرد نائم، بل أصبح المسافر الذي كسر شيفرة الواقع. عبر ثغرات الـ "Noclip"، ينزلق من سريره ليجد نفسه في ممرات لا تنتهي من السجاد الرطب، تحت أضواء فلورسنت تئن بطنين كهربائي لا ينقطع.. لقد وصل إلى الباكرومز. ولكن، كلما تعمق في مراحل هذا العالم الغريب - من غابات الـ Dreamcore ذات الألوان الزاهية والمقلقة، إلى المدن المهجورة التي تسكنها ذكريات طفولته المشوهة - يبدأ في فقدان شيء ما. هل هو هوس بالجمال السريالي؟ أم هو فخ ذهبي صممه عقله ليمنعه من العودة للأبد؟ بينما يطارد رين سر "المرحلة النهائية"، يكتشف أن الخروج من الحلم قد يكون أصعب بكثير من الدخول إليه، وأن "الكيانات" التي تسكن تلك الفراغات ليست هي الخطر الأكبر.. بل رغبته هو في البقاء هناك إلى الأبد. لماذا يجب أن تقرأ هذه القصة؟ تجربة بصرية: وصف دقيق ومثير لجماليات الـ Liminal Spaces والـ Backrooms. صراع نفسي عميق: استكشاف لخطورة الهروب من الواقع والإدمان على الأحلا

Is this a dream? A memory? A lie? Or just reality? Ashley's dreams can feel very real, despite its'... appearances, I guess. But this time she can't wake up. It can't be that bad, dreams are fun anyways! I just hope there aren't any nightmares... The exit says it lies everywhere. The memories will lead the way. And you may leave this place. Or not. Hi! This is a 'dreamcore' inspired story. English is not my first language, and I'm not a good writer, so please lower your expectations. Enjoy!

Hello folks! Here is another short story collection, full of new stories, fresh from my own overactive imagination! Enjoy some absurd humor, with characters acting unhinged and having a deadpan lifestyle! The fictional realm isn't a place where normalcy exists! Warning! Read at your own risk! 👀👀👀

ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀʀʏ ʟɪᴠᴇꜱ ʟᴇʜʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴏɴɪɴ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴀ ʙᴏᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇᴇʀ, ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀʟᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀᴇᴄᴋᴀɢᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ᴠᴇ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇᴅ.

Uma simples pergunta sobre o "nada" leva um homem a uma jornada cada vez mais profunda sobre existência, identidade e vazio. Mas, conforme a realidade começa a se desfazer, ele percebe que talvez o verdadeiro mistério nunca tenha sido o que não existe... Talvez tenha sido ele mesmo.

a girl trying to find a meaning to her emptiness thinking she is a loner.

Усім привіт! Я Влад, мені 16. Вперше публікую вірші, в основному на англійській, від буденного до сюрреалістичного. Також буду сюди інколи публікувати якісь короткі та довгі історії, а також прозу, на українській

Adventures of a bear and binder living in a forest!

//Cruelty Brought thee Orchid// (Story of the child, Ai and Soji meet with the mysterious that being targeted for their kinds) Credits: LoRa

Together, they move through a space that seems less interested in being understood than experienced, where reflections don't quite reflect, time doesn't behave normally, and the boundary between what is seen and what is felt begins to change. At the end of the alley, the city waits.

The Dream Log is a documentation of dreams as they were experienced and remembered: strange, mundane, vivid, perplexing, and occasionally impossible to explain; where familiar things have amalgamated into one semi-coherent concept. Every time I sleep, dreams follow. Without fail, the distinction between unconscious experience and reality becomes difficult to make. Join us on this voyage into the dreamscape.

Inspired by Patti Smith/Натхненно Патті Сміт

A lady went to mourn in the cemetery until a catastrophe happened, the sky shields shutdown.

a polyglot, experimental and ergodic work, made for fun, don't take it to seriously Also, this is an English translation made by me with the help of several dictionaries. It is not the original version, which was written in my native language.

A Carnival of Small Apocalypses These are poems for the hours after midnight, when the neon hums louder than reason and the world briefly forgets how to pretend. Inside these pages, goldfish learn theology from television screens. Ghosts linger in diners. Prophets miss their exits. Machines dream of salvation. The faithful wrestle with doubt, the doubtful wrestle with faith, and ordinary people carry the quiet weight of living through strange times. Part witness, part confession, part roadside sermon, these free verse spoken-word poems wander through forgotten towns, crowded headlines, broken promises, flickering screens, and the stubborn mysteries that refuse to leave us alone. Some are angry. Some are mournful. Some laugh in places they probably shouldn't. Together they form a carnival of small endings and unexpected beginnings-a collection of voices searching for meaning beneath neon skies, beneath static, beneath the noise. Step right up. The lights are already flickering. The ride has already begun.

This project is the author's exercise of methods using automatism as either the finished product or the basis for stories and poems. Nonsense, jarring images, and peculiar journeys woven from the stuff of dreams await. You might laugh. You might cry. You might walk away changed, having listened to the hard, granite tinkling of the waters of my spirit's grotto, moving you to wonder what's hidden in yours.