O Fim das Coisas (Vol. I) – O Tempo dos Monstros
Saint Paul, também conhecida como a Cidade da Indústria: três indivíduos normais são colocados em circunstâncias extraordinárias, e tornam-se… mais do que humanos.
Um encontro imediato que leva verdades afundadas acerca do passado a emergirem no presente. A força vingadora que invade as ruas da cidade depois da experiência terrífica num parque de estacionamento na penumbra. Um brutal acidente de viação causador de coma profundo e gerador de capacidades sobre humanas, que permitem captar os segredos mais profundos de cada indivíduo.
Histórias de pessoas, como nós, cujo caminho foi abrupta e imprevisivelmente rasgado, abrindo espaço a facetas que não imaginariam pertencer-lhes.
Porque o ser humano não é naturalmente bom, porque o pior de cada um parece estar adormecido… e pode romper de um sono calmo para o pior pesadelo.
ESTRELA DA MANHÃ, de António Bizarro
ESTRELA DA MANHÃ (Fábrica do Terror)
"Após uma curta viagem através das ruas escuras e frias da cidade, ajudam-me a sair do carro. No interior do edifício, cuja localização até hoje desconheço, retiram-me a venda e conduzem-me até a uma sala iluminada por velas, onde se me depara uma encenação tétrica, parte do ritual a que havia sido convidado a assistir.(...)"
OS MELHORES CONTOS DA FÁBRICA DO TERROR - VOLUME 1
Os
Melhores Contos da Fábrica do Terror – Vol. 1 é a primeira antologia de
contos de terror em português publicada pela Fábrica do Terror. Esta
seleção reúne os melhores contos publicados na Fábrica do Terror em
2022, contando com 37 autores, numa edição sem precedentes da literatura
portuguesa.
«Os Melhores Contos da Fábrica do Terror - Volume 1» no Fórum Fantástico 2023
Dia 29 de Setembro às 17:00h.
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Apresentação do livro «Os Melhores Contos da Fábrica do Terror – Vol. 1»
Dia 15 de Setembro de 2023, Cinema São Jorge.
Fotos: Inês Rochinha
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BANSHEE, de António Bizarro
"Alice tinha treze anos quando viu a Morte pela primeira vez. Estava a debulhar feijão no quintal e viu o espectro a rondar a casa da família, envolto em dois mantos, um que o cobria da cabeça aos pés, deixando apenas a descoberto o rosto descarnado, e outro feito de pestilência. Fugiu para dentro, assustada, e falou à mãe da aparição, mas ela não a levou a sério, chegando a ralhar-lhe para que se deixasse de lorotas. Nessa noite, o pai de Alice morreu, fulminado por uma apoplexia."
'Nachtgestalten', by António Bizarro
You walk through the deserted streets of Saint Paul, coming from the train station, alone, late at night. You are heading home and you are cold, very cold. You walk through the shadows and fog in your unsure step, anxious to get into bed for a good night's sleep. Suddenly, other footsteps join yours, echoing eerily in the silence of the uncrowded street. You turn back, but see nothing and no one. You quicken your pace as you tell yourself that there is no reason to be afraid. It must be someone who, just like you, is heading home from work.
The footsteps that follow you also become more hurried, and then panic takes hold of you. Your heart seems about to jump out of your chest, your breathing becomes faster and heavier. You round the first corner and start running frantically. You stop listening to anything, all you can think about is getting home. The streets begin to look familiar and you realize that you are close to home. There are only a few meters left before you reach its warmth and safety.
Finally, keys in hand, you run to the door of your building. Your hands are shaking, tears of despair are falling down your face, you can't find the keyhole. You feel surrounded, you think about ringing door bells or screaming for help, but you manage to open the door. Inside the building, you stand against the wall for a few minutes, in the dark, until you catch your breath. You wipe away the tears with the back of your hand, and when you feel restored and safe, you let out a nervous laugh, as if to express your relief.
Then, as you turn on the light, you see him standing in front of you, just inches from you, an arm's length away. You feel something breaking inside you, your legs weaken, and you can no longer find the strength to scream for help when you see him take out a knife from his pocket...
'Future Crimes', by António Bizarro
After the dust of the Android Apocalypse had settled, a period of global prosperity unprecedented in history began to be experienced, somewhat like what happened in the United States after World War II. With the growing re-establishment of the World Wide Web, old and new information was shared at lightning speed. Former enemies formed alliances, and what nations once considered their own resources now became the heritage of humanity.
Heavy civilian casualties had reduced the world’s population to about half, more or less six billion, roughly the number of inhabitants there were at the beginning of the 21st century. Those who resisted radiation were not, however, exempt from its effects, namely sterility. From the aggravation of the problem to the generalization of therapeutic cloning was a small step. Huge cloning units called Incubators sprang up all over the world, while scientists, clergymen, jurists, philosophers, and doctors debated its ethical and moral aspects. The Catholic Church was a pioneer in pronouncing that the individuals resulting from the cloning process were endowed with a soul, albeit the same, or part of the soul of the original individual. The other denominations were quick to produce statements to the same effect.
One of the many technical difficulties that had to be overcome was the time spent on the process until it resulted in adult, workable individuals. Artificial wombs were built inside the Incubators, chambers flooded with amni-fluid, which provided the fetuses with what they needed to develop, as well as accelerated growth hormones, exposing their immune systems to a variety of diseases to build up defenses. Another problem was the short life span of the clones since most of the DNA came from adult individuals. The answer came in the form of a revolutionary chromosomal telomere regeneration therapy, which was applied to the general population, increasing life expectancy exponentially.
In its early days, the production of Numans (a term coined from the contraction of the English expression New Humans = Numans), was done under strict surveillance, not only by national governments and the various blocks but also by an international committee created for this purpose. There were quotas to be respected, established according to the degree of industrialization of each nation and its labor needs. Each Numan, before being integrated into society, was subjected to intensive subliminal conditioning during his stay inside the artificial womb where he was cultivated. He was given all the necessary tools to be able to live in society with other humans, notions of hygiene and decorum, general knowledge, history, and everything else that was in any way related to his future occupation. In just two months it was possible to obtain a human being ready to work from a heap of protein.
Earth's population doubled rapidly. Although the Numans were docile and easygoing, it was decided at the highest level that they could never outnumber the rest of the population. A few unscrupulous and profit-hungry people found a way to get their hands on the cloning technology, and soon there was a fully functioning black market. Further investigation revealed two more frequent uses for clandestine Numans. One, perhaps the most brutal, was the use of Numans as prey in hunts organized by ultra-exclusive private clubs. The most notorious of these was a club called the Zombie Room, located in Saint Paul. Its patrons could enjoy a drink or a good meal while watching the show, where war surplus rape and extermination machines stalked men and women who had nowhere to run. Survivors of the so-called hunts, aided by Numan Rights activists, denounced the practice before the world, exposing a bizarre sub-culture of cruelty and bloodlust reserved for a narrow human elite. No one was punished, but the custom was banned. Another controversial case gave rise to discussion, that of a Middle Eastern millionaire who formed a terrorist group made up entirely of clones of himself. He was eventually arrested and sentenced to death. Meanwhile, some of his copies had had the same idea, and by the time the authorities finally managed to locate all the copies of copies, there were nearly 3,500 of them.
As Numans gained rights similar to those of other humans, other practices began to be abolished, namely, the one that some psychiatrists, such as Dr. Zhirkov of the MacLaren Institute, have dubbed “morbid erotic self-satisfaction”, in which humans employed clones of themselves in obtaining sexual pleasure. From a small group of fetishists who organized themselves via the Web and exchanged experiences and tips, a real movement emerged with ramifications all over the world. The beginning of the end came when a Numan murdered his human-matrix, who had held him captive and abused him continuously. After years of impunity, the perpetrators were sentenced to actual prison terms, and the victims were integrated into society.
Android:Apocalypse, by António Bizarro
Paperback omnibus edition of the Andoid:Apocalypse Series, previously released in three separate volumes: 'The Time of Monsters', 'The Beginning of The End' and 'The End of Things'.
Link:
IMDK greek fire
Killers and liars
Stealing our lives
Vengeance is coming
Get ready to die
The hungry will feed on your flesh
The sick will feed on your health
The weak will feed on your strength
The poor will feed on your wealth
Hoarders and thieves
Off with your heads
Anger is rising
Soon you'll be dead
IMDK dead planet
You tarnished the skies
And censored our breath
The trees are screaming
Your business is death
You poisoned the land
And lied for profit
The world is on fire
And no one can stop it
Pray as hard as you can
Your God doesn’t care
Pray as hard as you can
Your God doesn’t care
António Bizarro - Ard al-Sawad
"I was here so long,
am now a shadowless tree.
I dream that, when I die,
the moon-dogs will carry
my body to the desert,
where I will become sand..."
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