A Story A Day. Story 177 of 365: Beauty.

A loud noise woke both of them. They had fallen asleep on the sofa watching the Friday night's film. Frida looked at the watch on the wall and saw it was past two in the morning. She shook Andrew, who had gone back to sleep and convinced him to resume their sleep in the bed, where they would be more comfortable. They had been married for a long time, and their sons had left home a couple of years ago. They used to spent Friday nights sleeping on the coach, not talking much. They didn't need to talk much to be true, none of them liked small talk, so they would only speak if they had anything to say. Andrew followed Frida into the bedroom and changed into his pajama, leaving his day-clothes on a bench at the end of the bed. He slipped into the bed and fell asleep immediately. Frida got into the bed trying not to disturb him, he had had a long day. 

Andrew woke up with the first lights, they had left the curtains open the night before, he moved out of bed as softly as he could. He didn't want Frida to wake up. While he was getting dressed he looked at her, she was still as beautiful as she had been when they first met. He opened the door slowly, and, carrying his shoes, he descended the stairs. Sitting on the bottom step he put his shoes on quickly, he felt the urge rushing through his veins. 

The room was dark before he opened the light, but he knew she was there, he could feel her. He switched on the light, with expectation, and there she was, sleeping, waiting for him to wake her up. He caressed her, feeling his own skin grow goosebumps of anticipation. He leaned to talk to her. 

-You really are a beauty.- he told his yellow Ferrari Dino as he opened her door. 

A Story A Day. Story 176 of 365: Shakespeare.

Being a budding writer wasn't easy, and William knew it. It felt as if his life had been directed into becoming one, as his mother had named him after the Bard of Avon. He would try to convince himself he was good enough, and as soon as he was convinced he would stumble on one of the works of his namesake. His writing career was a roller-coaster, as his mood was. One day he was convinced he had written something worth publishing, the following he would be down in the pit of misery, wanting to burn the novel he had just finished. He wrote pages and more pages, and then he revised them, feeling at the same time it was good, it needed rewriting, and shame for having written those lines. He wondered, did Shakespeare ever feel like that? It didn't matter people told him his work was good, because he always wondered if they said so out of politeness.

He had been editing for hours, resisting to go to sleep because he was on a good streak, when he finally fell asleep on his manuscript. While sweating on the pages he had one of his weirdest dreams ever. He dreamt he saw a young William Shakespeare struggling with one of his first manuscripts, having the same doubts and insecurities he was having. He woke up feeling reassured, maybe he would never be Shakespeare, and he never expected to, but he still had a full writing career ahead of him.

A Story A Day. Story 175 of 365: Stains.

It was the perfect crime, the victim was an old woman, childless and friendless. No one would miss her, no one would realize she was dead until her body started stinking. He didn't want jewels pr money, he only needed the thrill only killing would give him. He hadn't killed in a long time, he had told himself he needed to stop, and he did for some years. However, after moving to the new flat and meeting his victim, he felt the need again. He tried to convince himself he shouldn't do it, that he would only get into trouble, but there was a part of his brain that was already planning everything. After some months of preparation he found himself in her house, with the old lady laying on the sofa, as if she were soundly asleep. He knew better, he had stuck a fine needle on a specific point of her body, the needle never felt any mark, so he knew they would rule her death to natural causes. He left, satisfied, oblivious of the stains of blood on her blouse. 

A Story A Day. Story 174 of 365: Streets.

He had taken for granted being rich, it was in his blood, or so he thought. He always assumed he would only make more money, and he was sure his opinion was always the right one. When he started losing money, he thought he would rebound fast, that it was only a small bump on the road of success. He kept his eyes shut for too long, denying what everyone could see, his company was sinking and with it all his life. He started having fights with his wife, to the point she couldn't stand it anymore and demanded a divorce. She kept the house, the car, and half of the savings they still had. He rented a hotel room and proceeded to live as lavishly as he had always done. Everyone in his company saw it wasn't working as it did, but instead of trying to solve it they decided to take profit of the situation. Money would disappear without anyone realizing. Soon, the company went bankrupt, but he still believed he could live as he did. Until they kicked him out of the hotel room, going back to his former house, he demanded his ex-wife to take him in, yet she wouldn't, she would have gladly helped him, but he still had the same attitude he had when they started having trouble.

One day he realized he had been sleeping on the streets for a year and a half, and it wouldn't get better if he didn't do anything to change it. Yet, how to do it? How to overcome the depression that had settled in his life? Who would help him? Who would take him back?

A Story A Day. Story 173 of 365: Pets.

"When I was a kid I always begged my parents to buy me a dog, they always told me our house was too small, that we couldn't afford having a dog. As soon as I understood I would never get a dog I started asking for a cat, however my mother told me it would ruin the furniture. From cats I moved to hamsters, turtles, fishes, any kind of animal, but the answer was always the same 'No,we can't have any animal'. It is hard, for a young girl, to be denied such a simple wish. This is why, as soon as I moved out, I decided to get myself a shelter cat. I called him Rusty. After him came Lily, Tiger, and Jimmy." 

"Miss Tucker, you need to stop thinking about the cats. It's the only way you can get cured."

"I am not ill."

"Yes you are, having more than thirty cats crammed into a fifty-square meter appartment is not healthy."

A Story A Day. Story 172 of 365: Loser.

Sports weren't his thing. He loved taking part in them, and playing, but he was terrible at all of them. Luckily most of his friends were bad at them too, so no one cared he wasn't good at any. He entered in all the competitions he found, whether it was running, cycling, swimming, or any other kind of individual sport. He also played basketball with his friends, and they took part in the neighborhood league, although they lost most of the matches.

Still, there were some teams who were as bad as they were, and played just for fun as they did. Those matches were the best, with the teams cheering each other, the players celebrating the best points, even if they were worthless. Those were the moments that mattered, the moments when everyone enjoyed sports together, those were the moments when he didn't care being called a loser, because at least he was having fun.

A Story A Day. Story 171 of 365: Talent.

The teacher called Mona's parents on a Tuesday afternoon, she only told them they needed to talk. Mona's parents were surprised, as their seven-old daughter had always been a good girl and an excellent student. They met with the teacher the following day.

-Is there anything wrong with Mona?- her mother asked the teacher.

-Don't worry, there's nothing wrong. Please, sit down.

She turned around and took a folder.

-I want you to take a look at these drawings your daughter did.

Mona' parents looked at each other before looking at the paintings. There was one of a beach landscape, another of their dog, and several others. All of them painstakingly detailed. They didn't know their daughter could draw so well, she never did so at home.

-Your daughter has an awesome talent, you should consider signing up for art lessons.

Mona's parents stayed in silence. Should they profit of their daughter's talent, or let her decide her own destiny?

A Story A Day. Story 170 of 365: Discovery.

They are taking me somewhere new, we are inside a box with windows and big people. Now and then there is a beeping sound and a woman's voice speaking, but I don't understand what it says. The box moves fast and stops from time to time, and big people get in and out. Some of them are very noisy and they are upsetting me. I start crying to make them stop, and one of my big people picks me up. I like her because she smells well, has soft skin, and feeds me. She puts me against her chest, moving slowly from side to side. I stop crying and she puts me back to my chair. My other big person looks at me and tells me something in his deep voice. The box stops once more and they take me out. The air smells different, and there's a light breeze. The sun is very bright, and the floor is yellow and turns blue after a while. I had never seen blue floor before, I really want to touch it. My deep voiced big person sets something up creating some shadow whilst the soft skinned one puts me down and applies a fresh cream all over me once more, she had already done it before getting in the box, she must really like it. From there I can see other big people and some other fellow babies. There are also some bigger babies in the blue floor, I extend my hands towards it, I also want to get inside the blue floor. My big people laugh and the soft skinned one takes me to it. I them discover it is not floor, but really cold water, I taste it and it's salty. I decide  I like it, I hope they take me here more often. 

A Story A Day. Story 169 of 365: Summer.

Bonfires were scattered along the beach, fireworks sparkled on the sky and reflected on the sea, just like the thousands of stars above their heads. Vera had never seen anything half as beautiful. She was glad she agreed to join Mar for the summer solstice festivities, she thought as she sat on the shore, the sea licking her feet. Groups of youths gathered around the bonfires, eating and drinking, mainly drinking though. The sun had set a couple of hours ago, but the party was just starting. Vera only knew Mar, from all the people she had gone with, and she was a bit overwhelmed, he was really outgoing, and that was why she liked him, but it was also shocking because of her colder and more pragmatic personality. Vera stared at the sea, she would miss it when she went back to her hometown. She would miss the sea, the heat, the warmth of the people, and Mar. She didn't dare to tell him, but she felt strongly attached to him. She didn't want to call it love, but it was in a way.

People laughing and shouting woke her up from her day dreaming. Mar and his friends were dragging a girl to the shore, while she pleaded for mercy. After taking her mobile phone they tossed her into the sea.

-We do this every year on one of our friends, it's a tradition.- Mar explained to a surprised Vera.

-You people have weird traditions!

-There's another one,... people usually swim in the sea around midnight.

-Isn't it dangerous?

-It's the Mediterranean! Come on! Let's get in the water.- he told her waving to the girl who was swimming around fully clothed.

-I don't have a swimming suit,...- Vera complained.

-None of us have!

Without any further word he stripped naked and dove into the waves. Vera considered her choices, but when would she be able to swim naked in the sea again? That night was all about celebration and having fun, she thought as she followed her friend into the sea.

A Story A Day. Story 168 of 365: Sales.

It had been a bad breakup. Worse than that, it had been a violent breakup. She had caught him redhanded with her best friend. There were still marks on the wall were the plates and figures had crashed, she had never been a good thrower, yet she managed to hit him a few times. She changed the locks that same day and blocked all his phone calls, he had left all his stuff behind, but she didn't want to see him again, not even to get rid of all the crap he had brought home after all those years. She had simply put everything away in boxes until one of her colleagues suggested her to do a yard sale.

It turned out to be the perfect idea, since she wanted everything gone she sold all his video games and comics at sales price, even if she knew it was worth more. By midday everything was gone She imagined him becoming all crazy because she had sold all his stuff, and she smiled, it served him well for sleeping with her best friend.

A Story A Day. Story 167 of 365: Wild.

Loreen's mother had always told her to be true to herself. She was a wild child, who would not comply with society-established gender roles. And her mother supported her.

Loreen's father had abandoned them when she was just a baby, and her mother remaried when Loreen was ten. Needless to say, she didn't like her stepfather, to Loreen he was just an annoyance between her and her mother. Yet, she learnt to cope with him, even if he wasn't as flexible with her attitude as her mother was. And then, tragedy struck, Loreen's mother became ill unexpectedly and she died within months. Loreen was only fourteen and an orphan, stuck with a stranger she had to call father. 

The times that followed her mother's death were hard and dark. She was not made to cope with norms, and he was not made to bear the responsability of taking care of a teenage girl. They fought over the silliest things, and barely every time they talked it was shouting. He wanted Loreen to be more tame, more feminine. He even asked her to wear a dress, once! 

As soon as Loreen was eighteen she ran away. She became an explorer, wandering from town to town, sleeping on benches if there was no cheap rooming available, meeting new people, having new experiences, and generally not caring if anyone though she was too wild, because her and wilderness became one. 

A Story A Day. Story 166 of 365: Clever.

Being clever was difficult, Jasna would think everytime, to her everyone in the world was stupid and dimwitted. She thought she was the smartest person she knew, and even her teachers couldn't compare. Because of it she treated people as if they were children. While she was in high school it wasn't much of a problem, because she actually was the brightest student there was, however, when Jansa started college, and had to move to a new city, things went awry.

At university she was not the brightest, she wasn't even on the top ten, in fact she was average. It made her feel stripped of her identity, she was clever, and she had always been. So, that new situation made her doubt of everything. Who was she supposed to be? What would her life become? She wished she had realized sooner that being clever wasn't everything in life, and, unknowingly, by admitting so, she became cleverer than she had ever been.

A Story A Day. Story 165 of 365: Sand.

I fondly remember the summer holidays. When I was a kid we lived close to the beach. Once or twice a week grandma would drive us with her van to it, so we could play in the sand and our parents could take a break. We usually left early in the morning, almost at sunrise, to take profit of the cooler hours. While we swam, the older kids taking care of the younger, grandma would set up a tent, so we could have shade for lunch. She always packed the best lunches, there was pasta or rice, and tons of different fruit or some homemade dessert. After lunch, we would lie on the sand and take a nap to recharge the batteries. As soon as the sun wasn't so high on the sky, she would apply sunscreen to all of us and let us go back to play. Those times with grandma are some of the best memories I have. I also remember arriving home and discovering sand everywhere. I would collect it and keep it in glass jars, thinking that I had brought home some of the fun we had at the beach. I still keep those jars, and, sometimes, I open them trying to find the smell of the sea.

A Story A Day. Story 164 of 365: Escape.

There was no point in running, she knew that, yet she felt compelled to get closer to the beach, into the open. If someone had told her she would be the last survivor, she would have laughed. A city girl, with no knowledge of the wild. And there she was, running for her life, chased away by the predators of the island. There were fifteen of them when the ship sank, more than two months before. Some died from injuries, some died of disease, most died because of the animals. The predators were something no one had seen before, big, fast, and unstoppable. She knew running was pointless, but she still had some survival instinct in her. She could almost feel the breath of the enormous male that was chasing her, on her heels. As she was preparing to die fighting, a strong sound startled her. The beast fell on the floor lifeless. Looking around her she realized she was no longer alone, someone had gone to her rescue.

A Story A Day. Story 163 of 365: Bookworm.

To Clarissa, books were like people. Or even better. She was a certified bookworm, she would start reading first thing in the morning and not stop until bed time. She would walk on the street reading a book, she would eat reading a book, anything she did she always had a book under her nose. Books took her on trips, on adventures, on romances. Books taught her how to love, and how to live. She liked books because they were complex, and they were true. Books didn't tell lies, they told truths inside their worlds. Books were welcome from the first word. Books were not jealous of other books, she didn't have to give explanations. And because books were better she just didn't talk to people.

A Story A Day. Story 162 of 365: Thunderstorm.

Lightning was followed by thunder, and thunder by lightning, in what looked like an endless cycle. The boys looked at each other glad they could make it to the refuge before the thunderstorm struck. Rain was pouring down, and what had been a peaceful stream, now was a wide river. The change of weather had taken them by surprise, and apparently they weren't the only ones, as a group of girls had also looked for shelter in the mountain refuge. The girls were more or less their age, and since there was no one else there, they started talking and exchanging experiences. When the sunset arrived, the weather had only gone to worse, so they all decided to spent the night there. They shared their food and some beers in the common room before going to sleep.

Later at night, one of the guys was awaken by the noise of footsteps. He tried to turn on the light, but there was no electricity. He tried to wake up his roommate, but he was a sound sleeper and nothing would wake him up. Terrified he told himself off, it was nothing, only someone who had gone to the bathroom, however, the footsteps wouldn't stop, going up and down the corridor. He tried to remember if he had locked the door, too afraid to get out of the bed to check. The footsteps wouldn't stop, up and down the corridor. He tried to focus on the soothing sound of the rain, uselessly.

Dawn found him leaning against a corner on his bed, with the sheets and the blankets pulled almost over his head. He hadn't been able to sleep again, sure that if he did the person walking outside would get in and murder them. He casually mentioned it during breakfast, but apparently no one else had heard anything. The girls entered the common room when they were about to leave, he decided to give his story another try, just to know he was not crazy.

-Oh, footsteps during the night? Sorry, that must have been me, I'm a sleepwalker.- one of the girls admitted.

A Story A Day. Story 161 of 365: Heat.

The northerner arrived with the heat wave. She had fair skin, platinum blond hair, and the bluest eyes anyone had seen. Her name was a clash of consonants no one was able to pronounce, and she spoke the local language in a broken accent, having learnt from old cassettes. The place were she came from, she would explain, was covered in snow for almost half of the year, and she had gone south looking for sunshine and heat, tired of the frozen winters and the rainy summers of her homeland.

The town where she had decided to move was a small fishing one, where everyone knew each other, and the men passed long seasons on boats, and the women, the kids, and the elderly stayed in town, glancing hopefully at the sea waiting for the sails to return. Tourists hardly ever put their feet in there, it was a beautiful town, it was true, but it lacked the basic facilities. That was the main reason that had made the foreigner choose it. She bought a small house next to the sea, and spent a month remodeling it. Afterwards, she started working at the local grocery store to practice the local language.

Everyone was nice to the northerner, as they saw her getting sunburnt first, and tan afterwards. She adapted quickly to the daily routine and made fast friends with all the shopkeepers in town. So it came as a surprise when she decided to leave.

A Story A Day. Story 160 of 365: Wrong.

Daryl had lived all his life in a small farming town, where everyone had large families, cousins tended to marry each other, and divorcing was the biggest sin there could be. He had been told, since he was old enough to care about girls, that he needed to find a good woman, marry her, and start his own family. He had always been okay with it, he liked girls well enough. 

When he was old enough to go to university, he decided to move across the country, in a much more liberal city by the ocean. It was a relaxed environment, with lots of things to discover. The one that shocked him the most, however, was the huge variety of families there seemed to be: single moms or dads, same sex couples, people who had married several times, and even people who were living in poliamorous relationships. He wondered, if those had been an option all the time, why no one had ever told him about them? 

The more time he spent in the university, the more he saw his parents and neighbor's views were wrong. Daryl could barely believe how narrow his world had been. He wondered what would his family say when he told them he was bisexual. 

A Story A Day. Story 159 of 365: Change.

One of Sienna's first memories was of her mother combing her long red hair while siting on a chair. She remembered how it was wet and tangled, and her mother pulled gently to get rid of the knots. They would sit on the balcony staring at the park, enjoying the fresh air of the evening. Once Sienna's hair was mess-free, her mother would dry it carefully, and braid it afterwards. Her braid would reach almost the small of her back, and she loved swinging it side to side. As she grew that moment became their bonding time, even when Sienna was old enough to comb her hair. For that reason she had kept her hair long until her mother died.

When Sienna's mother died, young and unexpectedly, she could no longer face the mere task of brushing it. It reminded her of the moments they shared. After some thought, and making sure her decision wasn't impulsed by mourning, she drove to the closest hairdresser's and asked for a complete change. The hairdresser asked her three times if she was completely sure about what she was asking for, and when Sienna confirmed impatiently, he started working. The first cut, the one that took most of the length of her hair off, sounded like scissors ripping trough fabric. Sienna looked in the mirror and saw a completely different person. With every click of the scissors a lock of hair would fall. Sienna was trying not to look at the mirror, not until it was done. When the hairdresser announced it was it, she saw a completely different person, the girl in the mirror had really pale skin, a long delicate neck, and a pair of enormous green eyes. She also had a fiery red pixie haircut that made her look as if she were trouble. It was a good change.

A Story A Day. Story 158 of 365: Apocalypse.

"Distance wasn't a problem when you could take your phone and text anyone, or talk with them almost face to face on your computer. Also, you could take a plane and visit your friends who lived abroad, like aunt Nina who lives in what was Canada, or uncle Tom who lives in the island of Australia. But you could also take planes to places where you didn't know anyone, it was as easy as buying a plane ticket and going to the airport. In a couple or three hours you could be on the other side of Europe, visiting some of the most beautiful cities in the world. If you didn't like cold weather, you could go to a sunny place. And it was for everyone, mums, dads, children, grandpas, grandmas."

"Even for doggies?" little Betty interrupted.

"Yes, even for doggies" she looked outside and saw the sun had already set. "Okay, kids, it's time to sleep. And remember,..."

"... this is our secret!" the voices of her three kids replied at the same time.

She kissed them good night and blew out the candle. Her husband, or partner, as she was supposed to call him, was waiting for her in the kitchen, he had reheated some of the leftover food from the kids dinner, and prepared a salad with what he had found in the fields. As she sat, depressed, on the chair, he stood up and kissed her on the forehead.

"I wish they could have lived what we lived, Dan."

"Me too, Liz. Me too."

A Story A Day. Story 157 of 365: Explanations.

-Idun! What does this mean?
-It's not what you think- she said defensively.-Okay, maybe it is.
-Seriously? With my father?!
-What? You should be flattered! It means I'll still be willing to go to bed with you when you're old and wrinkly, Vidar.
-You're kidding me,... What the hell were you thinking?
-You've been ignoring me! You go out and spend time with those friends of yours and you leave me home alone! A girl has her needs too!
-Oh, man, this is not happening. Wouldn't it have been easier just to tell me?
-As if you ever listened!
-Whenever I ask you anything you only answer in monosyllables, what am I supposed to understand from all that?
-Can I say something?-the older man awkwardly interrupted.
-Get out of my house! And cover yourself!
-But,...
-NOW!-Vidar added.

Idun waited until the other man had left the room to continue.

-I don't see why you're so upset about this.
-Are you real?
-Come on, it's not like you never had your own escapades,...
-But not with your mother!
-Well, everyone is family in this goddam island, so he was the only one I liked who wasn't my cousin.
-I would have probably felt less offended if it were your cousin!
-Ok, I'll note it down for the next time.
-You're impossible!- Vidar said turning around.
-Where are you going?
-With my friends!- and he slammed the door shut behind him.

A Story A Day. Story 156 of 365: Independence.

Gaby was fiercely independent, she lived on her own and had trouble sharing spaces with other people. She had had a couple of boyfriends, but had long decided to live her life alone. However, on moments like that, she wished she had someone with her. As she lay on the bed, feverish, she cursed herself, if she had someone, that someone would cook for her and take care of her. If only she weren't so stubborn. Gaby dragged herself out of bed and made herself something to eat. It was hard, but she managed. On a second thought, maybe independence was better than having someone to take care of her when she was sick.

A Story A Day. Story 155 of 365: Soup.

The sun shone softly on the polished wooden tables. The restaurant was about to open, and Cara liked to watch it before anyone got in and disturbed her peace. Peter was already in the kitchen making Cara's favorite soup. It was a cold winter day, snow piled on the street, the perfect day for soup. She entered the kitchen and the smell took her back to her childhood, her grandmother would cook her that soup whenever she was sick, she had never been able to replicate it, but luckily for her Peter would. When they decided to open a restaurant, Cara knew that the special dish had to be that soup. And people loved it. Cara knew her grandmother would have loved to see all that people enjoying her recipe. In a way, her grandmother lived again every time they cooked the broth.

A Story A Day. Story 154 of 365: Sleep.

Five minutes laying on the sofa was all what Tina asked for, since Bruno was born she was terribly tired and under-slept. Being a single mother was harder than she would have thought, but she didn't regret the decision of raising her son on her own. Sometimes, old women looked at her condescendingly because she didn't have a partner, and also because, despite being on her late twenties she still looked like a teen. Sometimes, she wished she didn't have to carry the burden alone, but she only really thought that when she hadn't had enough sleep. She sat on the sofa watching Bruno sleep in the crib. After three months, she still couldn't believe that little human being had been inside her for nine months. Bruno was the cutest baby ever, he looked like her when he smiled, but he had his father's coloring.

When Tina found out she was pregnant, Bryan, her boyfriend, told her he was not ready to be a father. Tina was ready, though, and she decided to carry on with the pregnancy. Bryan and her decided to end their relationship, yet they remained friends. He promised to visit his son, even if he didn't want to become a fatherly figure for him, and he did as much as his job let him. Yet, he was only his father in a biological sense, and neither him nor Tina, wanted that to change. Bryan wasn't there when Bruno was born, it was only Tina and her mother, who still couldn't believe he was going to became a grandmother. At the hospital, after she delivered Bruno, Tina realized that her family was that, her mother, herself, and her little son.

Lying on the sofa with a pillow under her feet, she decided to call her mother. She was on the other side of the country and missed her grandson a lot. Tina liked calling her, she always had great advice and never tried to push her to do things she didn't really feel like. While talking to her mother she stared to her son. He slept so peacefully, she wished she could keep him safe forever.

A Story A Day. Story 153 of 365: Birthday.

Birthdays were always a special day for Phil. He always looked forward to his birthday and loved celebrating his friends'. One could say it was his favorite holiday, even if it wasn't. He was turning thirty that year, and he felt he needed to celebrate harder than ever. His friends had thought about a surprise party, but that would have spoiled half of the fun for Phil. He had been planning his birthday party for months, and had sent the invitations with weeks in advance so everyone would save the date. 

The day arrived and Phil woke up early to check his mobile phone for birthday messages. He wouldn't open them, though, he always preferred to wait until late at night to read them. Even in hus thirties he was still like a five-year-old boy. He had taken a free day at work, and he basically stayed at home during the whole day, eating his favorite things, napping and answering congratulation calls. He also called the restaurant and the baker to make sure everything was ready. Nothing would ruin his special day. He had his friends met at the restaurant half an hour before he was going to show up, just to make sure he wouldn't have to wait for anyone. He got ready and dressed in new clothes, he was nervous, pacing up and down his living room until it was time to leave. 

The restaurant was on the beachfront so he decided to walk from his home up in the hills to the dinner party. The weather was cool and pleasant, an early spring day. He smiled to the people he crossed on the street, wanting to share his happiness. He took the longest path possible, just to be able to walk next to the beach longer and smell the ocean. The seagulls greeted him, and deep into the ocean he saw some fish jumping up and down. The beach walk was full of people taking profit of the last hours of sunshine. Phil thought they were all celebrating his birthday, what else was there to celebrate? He walked along until he encountered a crowd. The atmosphere was different there. There was tension, there was histerism. He worked his way through until he reached a police cordon. There was smoke in the background and he asked what had happened. A policeman informed him that there had been a gas explosion in a nearby place. His blood froze in his veins, he needed to know whether his friends were alright. He told his situation to the officer. When the agent heard the name of the restaurant, his expression grew grave. Without a word he let Phil in and adressed him to one of the support ambulances, there a psychologist told him, very tactfully that the restaurant were his friends were waiting for him had blown up, and there were no survivors. The world stopped for Phil on that exact minute. All of his friends were dead because of him, no matter what the psychologist said. 

A Story A Day. Story 152 of 365: Soulmates.

Yumi, one of Leda's closest friends had finally convinced her to meet one of her friends, Adam. Yumi had incessantly told Leda how they were perfect for one another, and how he was one of the cutest and more intelligent friends she had. Leda wasn't looking for a relationship in that moment, actually she thought she wasn't even made for one. Yet, she decided to give it a shot, it was cool meeting new people.

The meeting happened during one of Yumi's famous parties, she loved playing matchmaker and she would proudly point out the couples who were together thanks to her intervention. Yumi introduced them and sneaked away with some excuse. Leda took a close look at him, it was certainly her type, tall but not too much, broad of shoulders, muscular but lean, and had the most astonishing deep blue eyes she had seen in her life. They hit off immediately, she was a professional athlete who loved to read and he was a journalist who loved exercising. They had so much in common they wondered how they hadn't met before. They became so engrossed in the conversation, they completely forgot about the party. In the meanwhile, Yumi spied on them with a grin on her face, proud of yet another match.

Leda and Adam went out on some dates after the party. The more she saw him, the more convinced she was they were soulmates. Time flew when they were together having profound conversations, and the kisses, the kisses were perfect, soft and tender, yet passionate, just like everything they ever did together. However, deep inside she knew it wouldn't work. Adam knew it too, as one day they both agree to stop trying and just stay friends.

When Yumi heard she was devastated.

-But, you told me you were soulmates.- she muttered.

-And we are, it's just we are too much alike.

A Story A Day. Story 151 of 365: Crazy.

"I'm not crazy" the old woman would mutter every time someone handed her the pills. She would gulp them down anyway, out of habit. After half an hour she would fall asleep due to the effect of the medication. A day after another she would do the same, spending more than half the day drugged into sleepiness.

Simona was a young psychiatrist who had just started working in the mental hospital. She was assigned another wing, but one day she passed by the old woman's room. It was one of her moments of clarity and she called the young woman over.

-Doctor.- she said.- Help me!

-Are you feeling unwell?- Simona asked.- What's your name?

-Violet. I am fine, but no one will listen to me.- she looked at the other woman's eyes.- I'm not crazy.

Something in her stare, in the way she said the words, made Simona know she was telling the truth.

-I believe you.

Tears filled the eyes of Violet. Apparently, no one had even wanted to listen to her since she had been admitted in the hospital.

-Thank you. No one ever believed me since my daughter had me admitted. But I'm not crazy, and I've never been. My daughter tried to kill me some years ago, and when she couldn't she just locked me away.

Simona took a seat and listened to the whole story. Violet had been a famous singer in her youth, and earned lots of money, she married her school sweetheart before being famous and having to tour the world. Lea, their daughter was born shortly after, Violet tried to be a good mother, but Lea always held against her that she had missed lots of important milestones in her life. She blamed her mother for anything that went wrong in her life. She ran away from home as soon as she turned eighteen, calling her father a coward for having stayed with a woman who didn't love him, and she only came back when her father died. From that day on, Lea had tried to kill her mother in all the ways she could think of, when she saw she didn't succeed she had Violet hospitalized in hopes she would die in there. As soon as Violet had finished telling her story, a nurse entered the room with the medication. Violet took it, resigned, and fell asleep almost instantly.

The nurse saw the concerned look on the face of the young doctor.

-Told you the story of her daughter, didn't she?

-Yes.

-It's bullshit. Her daughter is lovely, she always comes to visit.

A Story A Day. Story 150 of 365: Monarchy.

"You're my princess" he would tell me. I was young, vain, and stupid, and I ended up believing him. Eventually I wanted to become more, I wanted to be her queen, I wanted to rule over him, instead of being partners. He consented me, he would let me do whatever I wanted as long as I stayed with him, he thought he was lucky to be with me, that he couldn't get anyone better, because no one was better than me. I became a narcissistic spoiled despot, and I thought I had the right to be so because he had crowned me his queen.

I ruled over him, I thought I was gracious, but I was easily offended whenever he said something I didn't like. He always apologized, he always set everything up so I didn't have to wait. I became out of touch with reality. I thought I needed expensive dresses and fancy food. I couldn't understand how girls could live without such a constant attention. And I started to forgot he was actually my boyfriend, not just a servant, and that was when he left.

I crashed, and I crashed hard. My life fell apart, not having someone to treat my every wish. I didn't know how to interact with people anymore. I treated everyone who tried to help me as I had treated him and they all ran away. With time I learnt that life was not like I had lived it. And I learnt to forgive him for what he had let me become, and forgive myself for being so selfish. I didn't want to be a queen anymore.

A Story A Day. Story 149 of 365: Fire.

The smell reminded her of roasted, charred meat. Even in those circumstances her mouth watered. She didn't care it was her own meat, the one that was burning. She didn't feel the fire licking her legs. Her only focus was on Nicolas, looking at her from the distance, his eyes watery. She had been accused of bewitching him, there was no other explanation for him, a young man, loving her, who was past her youth. All the girls in town had chased Nicolas, in hopes of marrying him, but he only had eyes for her. All those girls were the same that were now cheering at her disgrace, and throwing her rotten vegetables and fruit. She didn't look at them, she didn't want to leave seeing hate. She looked at Nicolas once more. The pain of the fire, mixed with the pain in her heart. She wished she had had more time to love him, but jealousy burnt like fire, leaving nothing behind.

A Story A Day. Story 148 of 365: Air.

The poison diffused, invisible, through the air conducts of the government offices. The building was full of people, it was mid-morning on a weekday, and both public workers and citizens were taking care of their affairs. The poison was odorless and only when random people started dropping unconscious on the floor, someone understood something was amiss. People ran to the doors but they were blocked from the outside, anyway it would have been too late, every breath they took was enough to cause irreversible damage and death, and each and every one of them needed to breath to live. It was cruel that something that was vital to live was what was killing them. In the end, as the terrorist said when they claimed the attack, all of them were just innocent victims of a bigger game.