Chapter 01

The beginning of times is lost and confused and one Space Traveler must explore the Universe to find the answer and maybe give back some concurrency to Time and Space or it should be the other way?

The Universal Royal Academy of Art got an incredibly long period of peace and stability while Art was identified across the galaxy curators as: “Everything that can and can't be art can be” so that way the artistic manifestations prowled happily in its own significance.

However, it came a time when there were so many artistic manifestations that the Royal Academy took too long to be able to categorize and named all of them, practically all and nothing came to be considered as Art causing the curators to live in a constant loop, in fact, stating that something was “good” or “bad” wasn't even took into consideration given the Cosmo-Artistic Universal Subjectivity of the usual majority. For instance: a poem was considered good and bad at the same time existing in both planes of the artistic subconscious of any who reads it, without being tied to the limited duality of the subjectivity.

But the Universe wouldn’t be what it is if there is no exception to the rule, so, according to the Theory of the Infinity Possibility it´s viable the existence of the worst poem in the Universe. In the beginning this poem didn’t exist as such, until the moment his author finished writing the last letter of the last word that the Universe noticed what it was about to be created; we need to take notice that the Universe thinks itself as having such a good taste, so immediately transfigured the author into a juice and fresh fruit vendor located at the Soot Market in the Planet Untulu 44 avoiding the author from writing the final dot of the poem.

Long time after that, the unfinished poem where to be found at the side of an eye of a Cactuodont (Cactuodont is a species of a cactus-mammal found in the oceans of the Planet Artontaron from the ring of celestial bodies 03-97 in the Galaxy of the Hat) This great discovery made possible that the poem got to the hands of a collector of unfinished art that owned a little antiques shop in the small town of Ordenanza in the Planet Artontaron, this joyful and nice collector displayed a great obsession for having all kind of artistic production that lacked of completion, always stored them with a side note with the reason why it wasn’t completed.

Thanks to the Universe who conspired for this poem never to be finished it´s why the old collector never found a reason for this poem to be unfinished at all but the Universe couldn't deal with itself, so it happened what needs to happen for things to happen just as they need to happen.

Everything happened pretty fast under the circumstances; it was a day as any in the room where the Unfinished Poem resided inside a glass box altogether with other unfinished poems, but none of them as potentially as bad. A wind burst coming from the north pole of the Planet Artontaron got lost from her course while she was eavesdropping a discussion between two ice plaques (usually they last several years in finishing a conversation and they always end up in a rupture of big ice masses) when this wind burst realized that she was lost of her course trying to locate herself but it was too late, a huge storm drag her up to warmer lands near the equator of the planet at the coasts from the town of Ordenanza.

Pretty shacked up, the wind burst not knowing where she was, she increased abruptly her speed passing rapidly by the side of the antique store of the old collector causing that it got closed really hard. At the time the door closed, it ranged the little bell that functions to let know that someone was coming in; getting the owners attention he left his pen at the counter to go see who was coming. At the exact moment when the door was opened by the owner the disoriented wind burst entered the store making that the owners pen dropped to the floor splashing ink all over the place, most of it went to the floor causing the collector to clean it up without knowing that a small amount of ink also got hanged onto the wooden roof getting comfortable in a place where it could live a life free of the ink bottle oppression waiting for a smooth and quiet dry.

Time passed and the ink at the roof lived a pretty relaxed and peaceful life, after many years a heat wave from a solar flare caused the ink to suffer from minor hot flashes, enough so a part of it got wet forming a small drop of ink in search for her emancipation, slowly she separated from her symbiosis with the roof letting herself took by the gravity. The tired and aged collector was ordering some showcases letting the unfinished poem over his desk at the same time when the free ink fell down at the exact spot where the final word was written creating the final point of the poem which until that time was potentially the worst poem in the Universe ever written; being so the Universe conspired again with itself and finally the poem was completed becoming the Worst Poem Ever Created.  A few days later it was sold to a hundred- twenty-fourth of its original price to a client who entered the store asking for the bathroom, coming out with a more relaxed sphincters took a time to see what was on the store noticing that the poem was announced as unfinished, fact no longer to be truth. The embarrassed owner had no choice but to sell it and wander if he really made a mistake or a force from beyond his comprehension made this poem complete adding its final point.

Author's Note

© Copyright 2016 - All work is property of León Felipe Gual Bojalil, any duplication or reproduction of all or part of the work without explicit permission by the author is illegal.

Reviews

[Rocksie]

So far your story seems intriguing. As I read it I'm curious to see where it will go from here. However, I noticed quite a few grammar and conjugation errors in some places. Some are probably just typos. Maybe try reading your work out loud when proofreading. It would help you catch things that sound a little off.
Also, sometimes it seems like you're saying more than necessary. While detail and elaboration is okay, if you do it too much readers can lose interest. ie (last para): "The old collector, more tired and aged, was..." you cold just say "the old collector", or better yet the "tired and aged collector". It paints the same image in your audience's mind, and keeps it from being too tedious to read.