Blue BlanketsIt rains tonight
Life is a black and white movie
The gutters are wet, reflecting the neon
Red letters and below them some blue
marketing a brand of beer which tastes like pee
One letter missing
If fizzes and spatter static
And the stray cat hails the sound
Beleiving it an enemy
But there's no enemies here
And old memories
Stored away dreams in a cupboard
Crashed sagas like trojans on a harddrive
Allahs prison is that old computer in the closet
A PC from 96 with the plug pulled
And the hull yellowed by time
The dustworms live there now
Checking their email
Cuddling up for the night
Borrowing our memories
And giving them back
Retold like fan fiction
of outgrown old religions
and gossip of yesterdays stars
those lies which were our blue blankets
in that childhood we don't want to return to
It rains tonight
Life is a black and white movie
Michael Jackson is dead
And so is Marilyn and Elvis
The Loch Ness Monster has gone missing
The Alien returned with his saucer
The riddle of the Labyrinth 1.Kisses and strangeThe riddle of the LabyrinthThe riddle of the Labyrinth 1.Kisses and strange9 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Inspired somehow by the movie Labyrinth featuring David Bowie as the daemon king Jareth. But what started out as a mere fanfic soon became something else, more original. But I still kept Sarah and Jareth as a sentimental gesture to what this one once was, even if so much else, including both their roles, is changed.
1. Kisses and strange artefacts
Everything felt smooth, soft and calm in the orange light of the sinking sun. The Island of Alozzia stretched out across the sea like a sea lion sunning itself on the rocks. It was hilly and green with great rounded boulders jutting up through the lush jungles and white sandy beaches. Ternilia was lighting the lamps on the front porch when Lord Orinian walked up the steps, the small sounds of clinking of his armors as a counterpoint to the creaking of the wooden steps. The firelight brought out the strands of reddish gold in his long black hair and the bronze of his skin. He walked up to his
Patient ZeroIt wasn't aliens they hid at Area 51…Patient Zero1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Cliwe Brenning sat in the living partition of his mobile home, listening to the sandstorm raging outside of his confined compartment, while staring at the text he was scrolling through on his laptop; proof reading it one more time, before he was going to send it off to the paper. The Interview with Dr. Alison Sinclair, expert on means for biological warfare. According to her the biological agents used in biological weapons could often be manufactured quickly and easily. The primary difficulty was not the production of the biological agent but the delivery system in an effective form to a vulnerable target. According to her, any idiot could make anthrax, there were even recipes found on the net.
So then why all this secrecy? What had they been hiding in the infamous Area 51 at Groom Lake alias Homey Airport for so many years while urban myths and legends had been flourishing like weed in the society? Was it a crashed alien space ship c
The riddle of the Labyrinth 4. A father inprisonedSarah nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw legs appear next to her own jeans clad ones. Stopping her shoegazing, she turned and spotted a stranger sitting down next to her on the low bench, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Sarah hadn't expected anyone else coming to this corner of the garden. Not in the middle of the afternoon, where everyone else was presumed to be in school or at work, save for her, skipping school partly because of not having done her chemistry homework and partly to get some time to think. And the old lady living on the first floor did seldom venture out this far in the garden.The riddle of the Labyrinth 4. A father inprisoned7 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Oh dear. I'm sorry to cause such a stir," the visiting woman said with a perky smile of the kind that was melting her smart features into the very picture of warmth, her glittering eyes holding a unique, almost iridescent color of verdant green that only presents itself in the new leaves of spring.
"Who are you?" Sarah, having been caught off-guard, had lost her grasp
The riddle of the Labyrinth 2. A solitary kingSarah stood in her den by the circular window, watching Doris climb into her father's car and then taking off down the lane and towards the youth disco, which she was not allowed to attend. As the red lights of the Toyota disappeared behind the neighboring building, Sarah felt a strange mix of anger and shame burn upon her cheeks as she gazed out in the deep blue light of the October evening. Stars were beginning to come out and a cheese-yellow vaning moon rubbed its belly against the rooftop of one of the houses on the other side of the lane. A bus rolled by and a gray cat patrolled the wall, otherwise absolutely nothing was happening out there. With a sigh Sarah took a step back and slumped down in her bean bag, pushed out her feet and craned her neck to stare into the ceiling instead, trying to count the twig marks for what time in order she did not know. Just as with the stars did she lose count. They were simply too many and too disordered.The riddle of the Labyrinth 2. A solitary king8 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Why weren't she permitted to go to that
The riddle of the Labyrinth 3. Something out thereEven when she slept, she was awake.The riddle of the Labyrinth 3. Something out there8 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The mind of a Celestian Mechatronic Cyborg was comprised of a network of constantly firing electrical synaptic pulses that connected the multiple processors required to operate a being as complex as she was. And it wasn't prone to going offline. At least not completely.
She often wondered if the mental activities occurring while she was in a state of sleep were akin to the dreaming minds of those who were not machines. Those often referred to as Organics or Breathers, depending on how polite you were intending to be. She never dreamed of walks on the beach, monsters lurking among the shadows or about giving speeches in the nude. Unlike the dreams of Breathers, her thought processes were, what she liked to boast, much more logical. Rational. She could spend an entire recharge session working on a calculation needed for forecasting the weather over the nearest fortnight, or analyzing the influx and outflux of commuters in the city of Ondea's gigantic s
The riddle of the Labyrinth 5 - Words to the kingKing Angarian progressed with an easy stride across the palace's main practice yard, the steel-clad toes of his knee-high dark brown leather boots kicking up whorls of dust from the bare patches of dirt scattered between clumps of dry brown grass. He carried a composite sword in his right hand; his left was free. Practice today was with single swords alone and shields not permitted. He was dressed in a burgundy leather jerkin under a half-sleeved shirt of chain mail of the same semi-transparent, light-gray composite, leaving his lower arms bare. His flaxen, shoulder-length hair was covered by a plain helm with flared cheek-guards.The riddle of the Labyrinth 5 - Words to the king6 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The heat was stifling, like the hot breath from an oven, but Angarian did his best to ignore it. Instead he focused on his opponent. Anything else - the youths and soldiers talking and sparring in other parts of the yard, the clacking sound of composite striking composite, or a grunt as someone took a blow - was a distraction he could not afford.
Under AttackArmy Postal ServiceUnder Attack4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
When the Greek Army swept like wild fire trough the city all I could do was run. Run with my son in my arms, trying to save us from the Greeks and most of all from the terrible Ares himself...
(A kind of steampunk take on the mythology - for those who claim ancient accuracy - sorry it's not to be found here, I've taken quite a few liberties with the timeline and geographic characteristic)
1. Under Attack
"Mommie, are we going to die?" Kalian looked at me with his big, brown eyes filled with fear.
"No, dearest, we're not." I lied. "We're not going to die. We're going to make this; we just have to get away from the men chasing us."
"Can we do that?" my son hiccupped.
"Yes, yes, dear, we can do that!"
Nevertheless I was beginning to have my doubts. After all I was alone, carrying a five year old in my arms. A heavy five years old, and the Dark Warriors who persecuted us were plentiful. They were huge and lethal and well armed. Even if I could get o
A first time for everythingIt was one of the first real spring days, the sun felt like it was warming for the first time in months, thawing up the ground. And while there still was snow in the shadows behind trees and boulders, the sounds heralded a more gentle season, with birdsong and gurgling creeks, the air smelled of anticipation and the elation of sprouting new life. Everywhere there were small signs, the squirrels seemed to hurry faster up the tree trunks, the birds were diving and looping in the sky and the rabbits and hares were running to and from. Even some insects were seen, a buzzing bumblebee here, a ladybug there. A beetle was sneaking down in a crack between two small stones and a spider was sitting on a twig, trying to figure out how a net was made.A first time for everything1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
And then there was the young man – hardly more than a boy to be true, who came running down the narrow path, running and jumping and skipping – skidding from stone to stone and speeding up as if he was chasing the last traces of the rainb
Rhodos"So what about Rhodos?" Hebe asked. "Are you coming with me or not?" Herakles turned around in bed, still a bit weary and fuzzy-eyed after their love making.Rhodos3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"When are you planning to go there?"
"Uh-hm. Have to start as soon as possible if I should be able to accept pupils at the start of the next spring semester. Sweetie..."
With the gentlest of touch Hebe stroke Herakles' whiskered chin, feeling its warm and rogue texture against the tip of her fingers. His thoughtful green eyes were regarding her where she laid resting in the hook of his left arm. He could be mistaken for Zeus, she though. And yet not. There was something more mellow over Herakles. More relaxed and easy-going. Then again Herakles didn't have to worry about the millions of things which kept Zeus busy all the time. Herakles could follow his whims if he liked. He could come with her to Rhodos should he so desire. And decide such things on a short notice, something Zeus with his full agenda would
Redemption of the exiled one"Herc, I want you to sit in on the interview with this man," Hebe asked of her beloved who looked up from the wall he was bricking. She smiled, Herakles sure loved to work with his hands, and no matter that the man was a god, an Olympian god, no task seemed too menial to him. In that sense he reminded her of her beloved brother Hephaestos.Redemption of the exiled one3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Okay," Herakles dried off his hands on a rag, not that it helped much, it was as grimy as everything else around. Another Hephaestos deja-vu. "Tell me about him!"
"Ehrm…" Hebe began, a bit distracted. "He's… I've seen him once and I asked him to come back today. He's… peculiar in a way that I find… I don't know how to describe it, but the man is intelligent and he carries wisdom of the ancient kind. He seems… old."
"He's a god?"
"Yeah – well – he's immortal, if that's what you mean. He's…"
"I have a feeling there's something familiar with him. As if I ought to know him for some reason. Or at least recognize him. Perhaps he has been a
The path of two hearts"We can't pretend this never happened," Herakles said as he was handing Hebe her towel. Of course, being gods they could simply dry off just wishing themselves dry, but that was not as cozy as to snuggle up inside a warm, fuzzy textile.The path of two hearts3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"I know." she replied, looking at the tall, beefy god out of the corner of her eye. Herakles was even heftier than Ares, although not as tall, and he was hardly graceful in his moves. Instead his body language was utilitarian and straightforward, as if he had never bothered to use it to create an appearance, but simply to acquire what he wanted. He used his body so totally down-to-earth that it was almost funny to see. And still, it was that uncomplicated way of carrying himself that made him so completely attractive in her eyes.
"So now what?" He looked at her for guidance.
"We try to use some common sense, Herc. I'm not going to insult your intelligence by pointing out that we can't even begin to ponder a relationship. We are simply not meant to be."
The riddle of the Labyrinth 6. Alien matterLord Orinian of Alozzia made his passage down the long gallery, not bothering with either the elaborated elegance of the interior decorations or the people who stopped what they were doing to stare at his unusual appearance. He didn't look twice at the high, thin pillars of synthetic diamond and gold, lit from inside by warm full-spectral light. Nor was he impressed by the high, pointy and gold-mullioned windows, partly in stained glass, from where the sun streamed in and bounced off the polished floor of elaborated mosaics depicting fractals and meandering abstract patterns. He had seen it all before, plenty of times. His junior colleague, High King Angarian was a man who loved opulence, almost in absurdum, he was an ardent collector who filled his palace with furniture, rugs, chandeliers and the finest of arts and sculptures and every time Orinian visited Whitehall did Angarian have something new to present. The overall affect was an abode of power and privilege, just what one wouldThe riddle of the Labyrinth 6. Alien matter6 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
For Old Time's Sake - 3. Comes MorningStruggling through a maelstrom of dreams, one more peculiar than the other, Hera was making her way towards awareness again, as if swimming towards the surface of a deep sea, fighting the kaleidoscopic currents with forceful strokes. With a jolt her eyes fluttered up – to a startling view. She was definitely not in her own bedroom in La Casa Dolorada in Venice, Italy. Daylight radiated from the wrong direction and the texture of the bedding felt different, the duvet too thin. Not to mention that the mixture of smells were dissimilar – yet oddly familiar in their lush muskiness, triggering a torrent of remembrances one more bittersweet than the next. Most of all, she was not alone in the bed, there was someone asleep next to her, someone who's warm chest her head was resting next to, the rhythm of his heartbeat in her ear, a strong arm encircled with such an astonishing ease around her waist.For Old Time's Sake - 3. Comes Morning1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The next millisecond it all came back to her. Zeus. Tokyo. Zeus. Leaving Venice. Ze
Athena18. AthenaAthena4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Ares!" my voice almost got stuck in my troth and with a shiver of terror running down my spine I pulled Kalian towards me, holding him close and hard and wishing there was a way for me to stop him from seeing his father becoming attacked. Because this was no Anatolian god, this was something far worse, a deity with an aura burning almost as red as Ares' own and radiant with an invincible force. I had hardly seen anything more powerful in my whole life, this god in his cover-all tar-black leather outfit held as much strength as Ares himself - if not even more.
Still my beloved was not resource less, far from it. He kicked into battle mood with an almost unbelievable speed, and ducked the attackers attempt with a swift and agile move. The leather clad god turned and attacked again, and this time Ares blocked the sword arm with his own left elbow and at the same time he reached for the arm with the axe and somehow managed to wrestle that weapon away from the adversary. Spinnin