Dienstag, 28. Februar 2012
The siren
Sitting on a lamp post, invisible to those passing by beneath, she watches. And listens. Cities have changed since she first took up position outside of the ocean - far away from her sisters. Her skin is wrinkled, too dry. Eternal youth is a thing of the past, all that is left is eternity. She hears everything, and events get tangled in her silken hair before anybody knows they are about to happen. Sometimes she sings, to warn those who can still truly hear. And then she is bound to watch, unable to help, as disasters unfold and lives unravel.
Mittwoch, 25. Januar 2012
Death and dust
In his bed, the old man lay dead. The successors stood around the bed, shuffling their feet, not looking each other in the eye. No one of them had known the old man very well, he had not been an amiable fellow. Stories of long-forgotten wars, abuse shouted at whoever happened to come through the door still wearing their shoes, annoying complaints. They had avoided him as much as possible. Now they stood for as long as they could bear, and then they left, making healf-hearted promises to call soon. No one wanted any of the old-fashioned, outworn stuff the old man might have possessed while he was still alive.
The old man had lived a long and lonely life, but it had been far from boring.Unfortunately, none of it ahd ever been told, and there were secrets that remained in the house when the reluctant visitors left.
In dark and dusty rooms strange objects sat and listened to the things humans could not hear. For some of them, the old man's death meant freedom. For others it meant they would have to find new masters. Still others had ceased to exist when the old man's heart had stopped beating and he had drowned in his own fluids. There was a whisper of excitement and fear, plans were being made.
No one would enter these rooms for a long time.
The old man had lived a long and lonely life, but it had been far from boring.Unfortunately, none of it ahd ever been told, and there were secrets that remained in the house when the reluctant visitors left.
In dark and dusty rooms strange objects sat and listened to the things humans could not hear. For some of them, the old man's death meant freedom. For others it meant they would have to find new masters. Still others had ceased to exist when the old man's heart had stopped beating and he had drowned in his own fluids. There was a whisper of excitement and fear, plans were being made.
No one would enter these rooms for a long time.
Sonntag, 1. Januar 2012
After-party thoughts
Thank the gods, he muses, picking up the trash. That was one hell of a New Year's party. Beer bottles everywhere, chewed lemon wedges from the Tequila drinkers, dirty plastic bowls with leftover chili. Three hundred and sixty-four days till it all starts over again. Oh no, sixty-five - it's a leap year, after all. He remembers the stripper his friends had brought along, and the guests he does not remember inviting, but his memory must have become somewhat blurred later, because he cannot, for the love of whisky, remember why there is a severed head swimming in the toilet bowl.
[I hope you enjoyed my little Yule madness, which I did not announce anywhere. I wanted to proove to myself that I can still write something besides the novels and the usual madness, and I wanted to share some stories with you between the years. I wish you a lovely and story-filled new year!]
[I hope you enjoyed my little Yule madness, which I did not announce anywhere. I wanted to proove to myself that I can still write something besides the novels and the usual madness, and I wanted to share some stories with you between the years. I wish you a lovely and story-filled new year!]
Samstag, 31. Dezember 2011
Happy New Year
The old one is frail and thin and grey, worn out and tired. Hands tight on his back, bent in on himself. There are lines of laughter on his face and lines of sorrow, and it is hard to tell of which kind there are more.
The judge looks at him, sternly, "What have you done? What are your achievements?"
The prosecuter starts his litany: Starving children, dead innocents, injustice galore. Wars and accidents and man-made catastrophes. Radiation everywhere, disappearing animals.
The old one says nothing. All he wants is to be done, and to rest. He remembers the time when he was young and energetic, like a racing horse at the start, and everybody loved him - for he was about to change everything around by 180°, he was the one who would make everything allright. And then he came and started his designated course, and somehow he was forgotten, although he was there all the time. Only now, that he is about to lie down and be done do people remember him, and they look at him and mostly blame him for what they perceive to be his misdeeds.
The jury's decision comes quick. He is led to the block, lies down peacefully, eyes facing upward. At the sideline he sees his successor waiting for the signal, all buzzed up and excited. Little does he know, hewill end up just the same. The old one turns his eyes upward again, looking at the guillotine that will put him out of his misery.
Ten, nine, eight, ...
He exhales and smiles.
..., three-two-one - HAPPY NEW YEAR!
The blow is hard, and everything is over in an instance.
The judge looks at him, sternly, "What have you done? What are your achievements?"
The prosecuter starts his litany: Starving children, dead innocents, injustice galore. Wars and accidents and man-made catastrophes. Radiation everywhere, disappearing animals.
The old one says nothing. All he wants is to be done, and to rest. He remembers the time when he was young and energetic, like a racing horse at the start, and everybody loved him - for he was about to change everything around by 180°, he was the one who would make everything allright. And then he came and started his designated course, and somehow he was forgotten, although he was there all the time. Only now, that he is about to lie down and be done do people remember him, and they look at him and mostly blame him for what they perceive to be his misdeeds.
The jury's decision comes quick. He is led to the block, lies down peacefully, eyes facing upward. At the sideline he sees his successor waiting for the signal, all buzzed up and excited. Little does he know, hewill end up just the same. The old one turns his eyes upward again, looking at the guillotine that will put him out of his misery.
Ten, nine, eight, ...
He exhales and smiles.
..., three-two-one - HAPPY NEW YEAR!
The blow is hard, and everything is over in an instance.
Freitag, 30. Dezember 2011
Colors and stars
Standing in the field on the hill, he feels the cold biting his bare skin. The grass is wet and cold beneath his feet. Darkness hides him like a cloak, even more so with the lights the other people are watching. He throws his head back with delight as the first chemical stars fill the night sky above his head. Entering the new year with nothing on himself, he figures it can only get better.
Donnerstag, 29. Dezember 2011
Crystal bridges
Winter is not the best time for travelling, but some places can only be reached via bridges formed from ice.
Mittwoch, 28. Dezember 2011
Fire bird
Once upon a time, when the earth was young and lay in darkness, the firebirds roamed the universe, and the humans on earth would admire the shooting beams of light they saw up in the sky during their lives of eternal darkness.
One day, or one night, maybe, because it was hard to tell in the darkness, something fell from the sky. The humans hurried, and in the middle of a crater, still glowing and shot through with red, pulsing veins, there lay an egg, only as small as a human head. Quarrels ensued over what to do with this treasure, and finally the medicine men and women of the different tribes decided that it would be best to bury the egg, for there had been families destroyed and people killed over a thing as simple as this.
And so it was done. The braves warrior took the egg and crawled into the caves leading to the center of the earth, and there he deposited the egg. Upon his return, he would not speak of the miracles he had seen on his journey, but his hair had gone white and his left arm had withered away to leave nothing behind but dry leathery skin and fragile bones.
But there was a fire bird looking for her egg, and desperately doing so. She felt the pull towards this tiny and insignificant planet, but the egg was nowhere to be seen. So she started circling the planet, changing her path ever so slightly, looking for her unborn child. And thus the light of day was born.
One day, or one night, maybe, because it was hard to tell in the darkness, something fell from the sky. The humans hurried, and in the middle of a crater, still glowing and shot through with red, pulsing veins, there lay an egg, only as small as a human head. Quarrels ensued over what to do with this treasure, and finally the medicine men and women of the different tribes decided that it would be best to bury the egg, for there had been families destroyed and people killed over a thing as simple as this.
And so it was done. The braves warrior took the egg and crawled into the caves leading to the center of the earth, and there he deposited the egg. Upon his return, he would not speak of the miracles he had seen on his journey, but his hair had gone white and his left arm had withered away to leave nothing behind but dry leathery skin and fragile bones.
But there was a fire bird looking for her egg, and desperately doing so. She felt the pull towards this tiny and insignificant planet, but the egg was nowhere to be seen. So she started circling the planet, changing her path ever so slightly, looking for her unborn child. And thus the light of day was born.
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