Dibb – The dream notary

Update posted by Stefan Wiktorin On Feb 23, 2016

In a world where citizens are having their dreams monitored, and all religion has been banned, God grows restless. Not even a new species of phone-booth shaped insects seems to help.

But trying to bring on the end of days.... Now, that must be worth a shot.

A vague prophecy and a race between Good and Evil, sets the backdrop for the real story; that of Dibb, a simple civil servant, whose only concern is trying to avoid the poodles,,,

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Update posted by Stefan Wiktorin On Feb 23, 2016

The cold war between Good and Evil quietly rages on. All Dibb can think of, is how not to eat the poodles...

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Update posted by Stefan Wiktorin On Feb 23, 2016

The Deep Archives

These were the ”Deep archives”. Hidden far below the city, dark and musky, unknown to all but a very select few; the Keepers.

This is where the government kept secrets, even from itself. Now, nearly a century old, it contained so many dark deeds and so many dirty secrets, that were they ever to see the light of day... Well, let's just say no one wanted that.

The secret of the ”Deep” was passed on only when absolutely necessary. It was an unseen system, within and beneath the system; some would even say above it, and it worked. Whenever a politician, policeman or elected official committed anything that could be construed as wrong by the public, someone would talk to someone, who knew someone, who may have a contact in a certain somewhere. And suddenly the problem was gone, without a trace. Any trespasses were denied, and no evidence were ever to be found. And the system went on working. The government remained solid. It had to.

But there were other secrets hidden within the vaults of the ”Deep”. Even more dangerous than just the odd dead prostitute in a judges chambers. Even more secret than the late presidents genital problems.

In the darkest, deepest corner of the vault, wedged in between the tax evasions of a former minister of finance and the written testimonies from the cannibalistic cult on Wren Street, were the prophecies of Harold ”Lewd Lou” Lucius.

No one could remember him now. Those involved in his disappearance made sure of that. And they themselves were long dead. No one alive even knew what was inside that box. It was just another one of those stories, never to be told, by penalty of death.

But still, there it was. The last testament of Lewd Lou. His last dream, still faintly glowing in its canister. His writings, the blood now a dark brown, standing out against the yellowed pages. Also the expansive documentations from several psychiatrist who took care of him before his untimely demise. Which of course was written off as an accident, but the coroners report that never made it out to the general public told another story. But that story was to remain untold. It was now only a metaphorical sigh in the darkness. Far beneath the city streets. Where the system worked. The government was solid. People were secure.

The sigh grew louder....

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Stefan Wiktorin

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Comedian/Satirist/Playwright/Director.... All round creative mind. If I'm not allowed to write or create something I may as well be six feet under.

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