"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."

Mio

Qualcuno di voi ha presente Sì Oscuro Signore (per gli amici SOS), il gioco di carte in cui voi, miserabili servitori del male, tornate dal vostro padrone dopo essere stati immancabilmente sconfitti e dovete inventarvi le scuse più assurde per non incorrere nelle ire di Rigor Mortis, l’Oscuro Signore?
Ecco.
Immaginate lo stesso sistema di gioco (notevolmente migliorato con l’introduzione di un ruolo da caratterizzare per i giocatori e di regole più strutturate per il master) ma applicato ad un contesto abbastanza… diverso. Il padrino ha perso una borsa di soldi in mezzo ad un marasma di altre borse uguali (una per giocatore) contenenti le cose più bizzarre. E, naturalmente, la rivuole indietro. Di chi sarà la colpa? Dell’adorata moglie in combutta con il contabile o della figlia che vorrebbe scappare con l’autista? O forse dello stesso contabile, ben poco interessato all’attempata signora ma molto meglio disposto verso suddetta figlia? Protetti e protettori  scuse folli ed un padrino d’umore quantomai mercuriale. Accento siciliano e baffetti non inclusi nella scatola.

Advent Calendar

E.T.A. Hoffman — Automata

A considerable time ago I was invited to a little evening gathering, where our friend Vincent was, along with some other people. I was detained by business, and did not arrive till very late. I was all the more surprised not to hear the slightest

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Advent Calendar

Mary E. Wilkins Freeman — A Stolen Christmas

“I don’t s’pose you air goin’ to do much Christmas over to your house.” Mrs. Luther Ely stood looking over her gate. There was a sweet, hypocritical smile on her little thin red mouth. Her old china-blue eyes stared as innocently as a baby’s, although

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Advent Calendar

Anna Katharine Green — Florence Flannery

She who had been Florence Flannery noted with a careless eye the stains of wet on the dusty stairs, and with a glance ill used to observance of domesticities looked up for damp or dripping ceilings. The dim-walled staircase revealed nothing but more dust, yet

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E.T.A. Hoffman — Automata

A considerable time ago I was invited to a little evening gathering, where our friend Vincent was, along with some other people. I was detained by business, and did not arrive till very late. I was all the more surprised not to hear the slightest

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Mary E. Wilkins Freeman — A Stolen Christmas

“I don’t s’pose you air goin’ to do much Christmas over to your house.” Mrs. Luther Ely stood looking over her gate. There was a sweet, hypocritical smile on her little thin red mouth. Her old china-blue eyes stared as innocently as a baby’s, although

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