Photo © aarthyr

   Meanwhile, somewhere in the mind of the confused author:

   "It's time I wrap up this mess..."

   Thus...

   "Johnny, hurry up with the packing of that mirror! Mr. Lewis is expecting  it today. Hurry up, boy!"

   "It's almost ready, mom...." Whispering, "... you'll never guess what I've seen in this mirror..."

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Photo © aarthyr

   Take 4, close-up, inside the masters' parlor:

   "By Jove!", said the great master, "They will spoil it all! Summon the master of the thunders! I'll warn them with some thunderbolts! They will learn how to behave when the future of Christianity and humankind depends on their acts! Quick! Get me the master!"

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Photo © aarthyr

   Take 3, close-up:

   "Look, there is a beautiful bright red apple in the table!", said the girl to the boy. "I'm hungry, what about you?", she asked, anxiously. "Well...", started the boy, "I've already heard something about a red poisonous fruit, and I really do not know if the author is crazy enough to change the apple... I believe it's better not to take a chance, if we don't want to fall deeply asleep..." 

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Photo © aarthyr 

  Along the edge of the stream, a boy and a girl walked slowly, listening to a coloured deaf song, and smiling from time to time. It seems they had never noticed each other till that sunny morning, when The Power decided they should meet and write down a famous page in the historical daybook of the planet. Everything was prepared – the apple was on the table, the thin and short snake dressed as required, and the masters of The Power were all gathered around the TV set, to witness the event.

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Photo © aarthyr

   Spreading light all over the woods, the sun started the day. Green spots of wide leaves protected bugs from the eyes of hungry birds. Some sticks of old wood rested among the grass, drawing strange dark forms in the ground. Near by, buzzing yellow-black bees were flying around little white blossoms. When touched, they would liberate small petals that fell slowly into the shining and fast waters of a winding brook.

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Um minuto! Um minuto? Segundos... apenas alguns segundos e aquele rapaz passara-lhe à frente. Teria agora que esperar na fila até que ele se despachasse, no multibanco. A única caixa multibanco das redondezas. O rapaz lá se aproximou do teclado e começou a digitar códigos. Estranho... Apenas digitara uma vez... E agora, agora pressionava os botões, freneticamente, fazendo estranhíssimos movimentos com os braços enquanto dobrava as pernas, levantando-as e baixando-as a um ritmo esquisito! Parecia até que julgava que a máquina tinha botões laterais... Ganzado! Só podia... Mais um! Mas nunca mais se despachava... seria que afinal também estava a pagar contas, a fazer transferências ou a comprar bilhetes? A sua impaciência crescia, bem como a fila atrás de si... passou a olhar nervosamente para o relógio... já deviam ter decorrido uns bons minutos. As pessoas na fila agitavam-se, começando a esboçar protestos... "Merda! Perdi...", ouviu, enquanto via os punhos do rapaz a baterem na máquina... Perdi?! O miúdo está mesmo mal... Depois de ele se afastar, dirigiu-se finalmente para o teclado. Era a sua vez... e já não era sem tempo. Perdi?, pensou ainda, Coisa esquisita! Olhou então para o ecran. Estranho, muito estranho! Devia ser avaria... Piscando, a brilhar, uma frase repetia-se interminavelmente: GAME OVER!... game over!... GAME OVER!... game over!...

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