Category Archives: Tales

Don & Juan


And then her eyes shined
with a shine never to be seen
And her lips glowed
in a red glow never to be tasted
Her hands moved slowly
towards his unshaved face
And she kissed him
in a way that no one has ever kissed again

This is the story of two lovers that met one day of May and never again leave each other alone.

It was night. A night that none of them will ever forget. A night that fate played its games once again. A lonely night, not of people around them, but lonely of love. It was the month of May. It was him, and it was her. Two souls meant to be together but never met before. You can call it fate, karma or whatever you like. But they were there. Looking each other, loving each other with just one look.

He was 12 years older. She was 12 years younger. But what does age matters to love? Love. An eternal word. A word that you can tell, but never describe. A word that has so many meanings. But they, they were loving each other with every possible meaning of love. They were lovers, even before they have met. They were soul mates that never die. They were the fulfillment of love.

And the wind blew once again
And covered their eyes
With rain, snow and dust
But they were standing there
Holding hands
Loving each other

The story is very big. It started, but never ends. It is a story that anyone can end it whenever he likes. It is an endless story if you want it to be. But they are here, there, everywhere. They are wherever you want them to be.

Days passed, weeks, months, almost a year. But they were one. They became one by the time they touched each other. In their “holy place”. They united eternally. Nature was their so called priest. The trees, the moon, the winds and every single breath were their witnesses. They needed no one else. They had each other.

And when the time comes, you will know
Gods always show their signs
And you will be alone no more
And I will be alone no more

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There are many stories that can be told inside this little story. There is one story in every story that exists. Love is the story. The author is different.

They decided to leave behind their past lives, and moved away. They have gone to a small beautiful town, where they started slowly building their new dreams. The things were not easy, but they were simple as both of them used to say. He loved her and so did her. So their love was the solution to everything.

And there were times of sadness and crying
And there were times of sorrow
But there was always love to guide them
And their love was strong

Their story can be a poem, a painting, a novel, even History or a myth. Their story is a tale of love. A love story with mythical facts and true words.

His name was Don and hers was Juan. They are not their real names, but what does it matter? You can put your names if you want to, or just leave the Don and Juan.

They shared hopes, dreams, moments, but above all they shared their passion for everything around them. They wanted to learn everything. To travel the world. To write music. To compose poems. They kept on writing, composing, talking and holding each other every single day that passed.

And the time has come
For their souls to leave this world
And the world cried
With tears of happiness, nor of sorrow
And they lived together
Forever and ever

The story never ends. As long as lines can be written and added. The story will never end. Love lives eternally. Love never dies. Neither does this story. Start it and end it all over again. From the beginning to its end. But always write down the lines. Every time different lines. Different words combined together, as their souls did and continue doing it.

And the story will never end
Their love will be eternal
The story is me and you
The story is every Don and every Juan

Make your own story out of it. Understand it however you like or want. Fulfill it your own ways. But always remember. The story ends whenever you want it to end. Don & Juan never ended their story. And they lived happily ever after.

Georgios Rachiotis

Georgios Rachiotis is a freelance writer for the past decade as well as a radio producer-presenter and multi-instrumentalist. He is the founder of Literatology and also the Chief Editor and MAnager of it. He likes music, poetry, literature, arts, mythology and all kinds of stories and tales as well as folklore. He also attends courses of History, Literature & Poetry in Universities all over the world.
Georgios Rachiotis is a freelance writer for the past decade as well as a radio producer-presenter and multi-instrumentalist. He is the founder of Literatology and also the Chief Editor and MAnager of it. He likes music, poetry, literature, arts, mythology and all kinds of stories and tales as well as folklore. He also attends courses of History, Literature & Poetry in Universities all over the world.

The White and The Blue Soul – A Story about the value of the measure, the sacrifice of pure love and the right and wrong choices


Somewhere in the night sky, among the stars, when the sunlight was peaceful and was spreading deep and dark, when all the creatures on earth were left in a sweet sleep and only a gentle breeze caressed the colorful petals of the flowers. Somewhere up there, between the Hours, the Angels with white wings and all the other sprites, there were two bright souls. These bright souls belonged to the world of spirits. But although they were spirits, intangible dreams laid by the infinite universe, they had human feelings and passions.

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The white soul felt trepidation every time she came close to her beloved. In his look she could face love, tranquility, eternity. They were dancing a nonstop dance among the stars and their ‘colors’ blue and white, and as they were coming closer and closer they intermingled creating fire and water, which diffused to infinity and sparkled all the creatures. She loved him very much and he, he had no eyes for another.
The only thing was that she was grieving a lot. She was grieving and from her eyes tears were falling, as white as crystal. And every time that her tears fell, she was in pain. And every tear that fell grew and became a white anemone which adorned the vast garden of the Heavens. And her tears fell for him. He was the only one who could fill her lighted heart, and he was the reason she languished. But every time she saw him the pain subsided, and the grief was falling asleep by the heart’s gore.

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She loved him very much. As he was facing her ethereal face and her long dark like the night hair, which were adorned with the golden flowers from the garden of Heaven, he was feeling so calm. The two of them, like fire and water, just before the dawn they joined and were showering the sky with ash and pink colors. They rode their winged horses and threw the morning dew on the earth and the green grass, the forests, the mountains and the beaches were shining.

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As darkness fell again, the grief was coming back and white anemones strewn everywhere. That’s because she gave all her existence to see him happy while he, as wild and impetuous as he was, he was defying her words. And his blue color became more and more profound. Deepest than the blue sea, black like the perpetual night and like the ocean depths. She advised him to be careful and lead a peaceful life, or he would be excluded from the world of spirits. This was due to the Hours, which were the sea gods of Heaven. They were responsible to bring order and harmony to the Heavenly spirit world.
One day, however, the blue soul seduced by the inner drive for exploration and adventure, felt that everything was so dull. So to feel vitality he went beyond the celestial garden, where there was a waterfall, which fell impetuous from a rocky mountain. By this waterfall resided an elder dragon. At this point of the celestial garden the souls and every other spirit were forbidden to fly, except for the Hours and The One which was above them, the immaterial, and the eternal. This is what the white soul feared and her heart was filled with grief and the heavenly garden of white anemones which she refreshed with the wind by riding every day before dawn. She feared that her partner would exceed the measure.

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The blue soul provoked the ancient dragon to a fight. He forgot his blissfully full of serenity life, that he and his white soul shared and fell into something mortal and naught. He believed he would defeat everyone and everything. But this option would arrive him in self-destruction. The white soul sensed what would follow: the end of her beloved. Despite her entreaties and advice, he reached the end of the heavenly garden and forgot the world and her own existence.
She could not bear to let him perish. The Hours would know that he reached the end and after them The One would know it too. Then he would be lost forever, he would disappear into the dark oblivion. She could not let him perish. So the white soul, made ​​from ether, water and light, that her hair adorned with gold anemones and her like roses fingers adorned the sky-pink gold, and the earth with the dew of the morning, reached the first ray of the sun, went deeper, became light and spread in every nook and snuck in every heart of the universe. Her light diffused at infinity. She made the ultimate sacrifice and lost.
This was a story about the value of the measure,
the sacrifice of pure love
and the right and wrong choices.

By Alexandra Zevgiti

Alexandra Zevgiti is studying History and Archaeology in the University of Ioannina. She likes poetry, art & literature and she loves writing short stories and poems. As a member of Literatology she writes articles and short stories as well as some poems.
Alexandra Zevgiti is studying History and Archaeology in the University of Ioannina. She likes poetry, art & literature and she loves writing short stories and poems. As a member of Literatology she writes articles and short stories as well as some poems.

You May Begin to Dream – When Hans Christian Andersen Comes Alive


He returned back home. His day was exhausting for once again. But how couldn’t it be? He chose a path many years ago and he continues to the same path up until now. Was it enough for him? But clearly yes. He loved children. The profession of the teacher was fulfilling his days. But after all these years he got a little bit tired. He wanted to do something new. Although he did not know what.
He put a glass of brandy to drink, and lit a cigarette. It was unusual for him to drink at noon. He knew that this day was hiding an entire treasure, and he just wanted to discover it.
His mind flew. He went back to his childhood. The time that he played happily in the neighborhoods of the small town he grew up. He remembers his mother. “My beloved mother” he said, and closed his eyes. He dreamed of the evenings that she used to read him fairy tales.
“Mother will you read me a story tonight?”
“Of course my son. Which one do you want? ”
The Emperor’s New Suit. It’s my favorite. ”

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“… He lifted his head up and continued the parade, until he became bright red with shame and anger, he reached the palace. The End …” (by The Emperor’s new suit – Hans Christian Andersen)

“How easily I was falling asleep with this tale!” He thought. Yet so it was. He slept peacefully and sweet. He dreamed of the palace, the emperor’s beautiful clothes, all the tailors and the dreams have been reflected on the canvas of his soul. Colorful dreams, childish, calm and lively soul.
“You still remember my tales I see, huh?”
Startled by the voice that was heard. On the other hand, this voice seemed so familiar. He could not understand what was happening.
“Who is it?” He shout.
“Calm down and listen to me. Follow my voice. Can you? ”
He could. He opened the door and found himself in a small town in Denmark in Odense. He had visited this town. He could remember the town well enough. The city that the man who adored through his fairy tales was born and raised, Hans Christian Andersen.

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His mind got stuck. He could not understand what was happening there. All of the tales passed before his eyes. As if they did parade as the King. He could recognize Thumbelina, The Snow Queen, The Ugly Duckling, The Steadfast Tin Soldier, The Little Match-Seller… he admired them all. Others because they had special talents and others because although they were poor and aggrieved people, they were magnanimous.

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A sweet melancholy seized him and a thrill. A tear fell from his eyes and reached the ground of the Danish town. The tear created a great sea. He could not believe it! Suddenly in front of his eyes appeared The Little Mermaid. She stretched out her hand and invited him to swim. He accepted. He did not know if all that he was living was true or just a dream. They swam and reached a rock. The voice waited there…

Anything you see can be a fairy tale and you can make a story out of anything you touch” said the voice. (Hans Cristian Andersen)

“Touch the hearts of children, with your own way. Give them what they really want, the beautiful end of the story. Once your mother, read you fairy tales. Do the same. Read your own fairy tale to the children. All these souls see you as a father. You know I lost mine in a very young age. He never managed to read me a story. We were poor. That’s why I made my dream come true. I wrote stories so as to make the soul’s come together. Do the right thing. ”
“Hans, how can you talk? Once you’ve lost your voice! ”
“I do not speak. I sing”.

Life is a beautiful melody. Only the lyrics are a little bit confused. ” (Hans Christian Andersen)

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A sweet song was heard. He jumped up. He was full of sweat. He fell asleep and now it was dark in the outside world. Only he could feel the sun inside his heart. He remembered the dream. He did not know whether he dreamed or if he lived it. He saw the glass of brandy. “I will not drink again in the noontime” he thought. He sat at his desk and began to correct writings. In a notebook he found a note:
“Aiming to the teenager, you can succeed in every age.” H.C.A.
The next morning he arrived early at school. He thought to start the lecture different today.
“Children we will read stories today. You may begin to dream “…

by Michael Moustogiannis

Michael Moustogiannis is a student at the Faculty of Philosophy of the University of Ioannina. Born and raised in the heart of the Peloponnese, and in particular Tripoli Arcadias. From a very young age he was depressed in writing and reading poetry and literature.He is one of the first members of the Literatology team and he is contributing either his own poems and stories or even many articles that he loves to write.
Michael Moustogiannis is a student at the Faculty of Philosophy of the University of Ioannina. Born and raised in the heart of the Peloponnese, and in particular Tripoli Arcadias. From a very young age he was depressed in writing and reading poetry and literature.He is one of the first members of the Literatology team and he is contributing either his own poems and stories or even many articles that he loves to write.

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