WHO iS SNEUTRiNO?

Sneutrino, realname Andrew, is a guy who is not a particularly "artistic", but does enjoying making stuff that can be classified as art.

WHAT iNSPiRES YOU?

You know, a lot of stuff. Specifically for Snories, I get a lot of inspirations from what I think are interesting dichotomies that exist, or certain concepts that are fun to take to extremes, or little life lessons I come up with for myself.

When I first started writing Snories I was feeling a little down about some stuff, so there's usually a grim, ironic twist that ends poorly for the characters.

Those sad feelings were a source of inspiration for a while. I think the ur-Snory, the thing that really got me inspired to write short stories, was the beginning of the book The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.

It's this great little fable with a perfect, tragic twist. I didn't care for the rest of the book to be totally honest, I wanted it to be just fable after fable.

So Snories are trying to get at that, and eventually I might compile a bunch into a giant tome.

WHAT DiFFERENTiATES A SNORY FROM A STORY?

A Snory is a Story made by me : ) but it has to be a little allegorical, and written very unintentionally with minimal editing after the fact

WHAT DiFFERENTiATES SNESS FROM CHESS?

Sness has more pieces than FIDE chess, but its actually very very similar. Its my most self indulgent project, its a game with fully defined rules, but I think of it as a fictional game because I have no intention of playing it really. It takes too long and its too complicated to teach people.

WHAT ARE THE PLANS FOR SNEUTRiNO?

I have to write a Snory for you. I've got one or two that I have wanted to write for a while, so once I write up that one I might get back into doing them.

I still want to write enough of them to make a Tome someday. I've got other harder projects I'm thinking about in the same vein as Snories and Sness too.

But Snories and Sness are easy to make, so it would make more sense to snick with snose until i've completely run out of snideas.

Once there was a magical river, whose water made people fall in love. In a village on the river's bank, the populace was content. there were no wars, no violence, and the people earnestly sought each others company at all times. When the river's water ceased to have an effect on the people who drank it, chaos broke out, and the villagers were dismayed. They longed to return to love and harmony.

So the people of the village fashioned a small boat and sent a man to travel upstream and find the source of the change and reverse it, so that the people could feel love for each other again. As the man was traveling peacefully, an acorn struck his head. Then more followed, and it occurred to him that squirrels along the river banks were hurling acorns in large quantities at him, and into the river. "What are you doing?" the man asked.

The chief of the squirrels answered him. "Recently, we have seen some flowers floating down the river. We were bored before, but have made a fun game out of this development - the crux of which involves hitting the flowers with anything we can get our hands on." The man replied, "This was once a magic river, but something has just changed it. It could be the acorns you are adding to it. Please stop throwing them in!" The squirrels laughed. They had not been aiming at him before, but to end his lecturing, they launched a new attack. So the main rowed upstream with his head down.

Eventually, he came to another populated stretch of the river. Tents along the bank housed hundreds of gnomes in neon orange hats, coming and going, playing music, singing songs, and throwing flowers into the air - many of which ended up in the water.

"You there!" the man shouted. "Stop throwing flowers into the river! And you! Something has poisoned this magic river, perhaps the flowers or perhaps the acorns. But either way, you must stop doing this!" The gnomes were confused by his message. "We can't stop partying just yet." said one. "These new hats of ours don't float down the river every day, they deserve some celebration! And we will continue to celebrate until they stop rolling in!"

And as he spoke, the man saw another orange cone drift down the river. And the gnomes excited grabbed a fishing pole to rescue it, after which point they wrestled for their new garb. The man continued upstream to find the source of the hats. He eventually came upon an empty parking lot, where a few sad looking trolls were tossing traffic cones directly into the river.

"Stop it!" shouted the man. "Why would you do this?"

"The nymphs are gone." answered a troll. "The water got too cold, and the nymphs fled. Without them, nobody parks here to sit by the river. We used to use traffic cones to tell cars where to go, and we had plans to expand the parking lot, so we ordered millions of them. But now there is no reason to put them anywhere in particular, so we are throwing the extras in the river."

The man was furious. "You have destroyed the magic of the river by doing this - or perhaps the temperature change has done this. Either way, stop what you are doing."

"No." replied the troll, and his friends agreed.

The man rowed upriver further, and came across the penguin who had been adding ice to the river because of the dragon upriver who had made it too hot. On and on he rowed, at each point finding a cause with another cause. And as he heard story after story from strange residents of the river banks, he began feeling very homesick for the home he once had where everyone loved each other

At last he came to the base of a great mountain. Passing by a pack of dogs who stared at bones in the river and whose drool joined the stream, he finally came to the most upstream resident of the river.

This was a colossal monster covered in eyes, with a single mouth of horrid fangs. The monster had a human body in each hand and a pile by his side, and he was chewing the bodies in his mouth and spitting the bones into the once magic river.

He pulled his boat to the shore and got out of it. "What are you doing to those people? What are you doing to this river? Do you have any idea the chaos you have caused, not just for me and my village, but for all the others who live here?"

And the monster replied, mouth full of flesh, "I do. I see everything, and I know that you have come because the people of your village want to love each other again." The man replied, "How can I make you stop, then?"

"You cannot." said the monster. "For I am doing what I must do. This river flows on until it goes underground at the edge of the earth, and back to a spring at the top of this mountain where it resurfaces. These bones, those dogs, on and on, to the traffic cones and the flowers and the acorns are all necessary components of this cycle, imbuing the river with its magic. Without my contributions to its alchemy, all would dispair and whither away."

The man replied. "The magic has left the river, my people cannot fall in love any more." "The magic of the river is that it makes those who drink its water immortal, and it makes them lose their memories." said the monster. "The river has not made anyone fall in love in eleven thousand years."

But the man did not believe him. "That sounds like an excuse to continue to eat people." "You do not have to believe me." the monster replied. "For either way, you taste the same." And the monster reached out to seize him and consume him.

But the man who had rowed so far had become too strong to be subdued, and the two wrestled for days. At long last, they reached a stalemate, and the monster gave up his attempt at the man's life. "Very well, you may pass with your life." said the monster.

So the man traveled up the mountain, past where the monster had polluted the water with bodies, and reached the spring at its peak. And he took the fresh water in a jar, and carried it back to his rowboat. And he floated downstream back to his village.

When he rejoined with his people, he shared the pure water from the jar, and everyone instantly fell in love with each other once again. The people were relieved to find their joy had returned in full force, their bitter arguing faded as if it were a dream, and they all rejoiced in the man's achievement for a time.

Yesterday the pure water ran out, and disharmony and hatred returned. It was yesterday they had last been able to fall in love, or perhaps, the day before.