Hospital Collection: GentleG asks my name.Hospital Collection: Gentle6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
He says I look so gentle;
that I move in soft waves.
We dont speak of the policeman I fought
or the security guard I punched in the face.
We dont speak of the four doctors
and the psychiatrist and nurse
that had to restrain me during an episode.
We dont talk about being in the acutes ward.
We dont speak of the twisted scars,
or my raw, bleeding hands.
You look gentle he said.
Mermaid Girl(One)Mermaid Girl10 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
The mermaid girl thought she was ugly because she had her mother's legs and her father's scales, which were green and shimmered wet even when they had been dry for hours. The skin on her face, framed by those scales, was pale, and her hair was brown and wispy.
The mermaid girl could not even sing. She had her father's lips but her mother's human voice, and to herself she thought that the only beautiful sound she could create was her quiet sobbing. It was so sad, but touching, and when she sat atop the cliff and cried, she imagined what the fishermen might think: passing the cliff in their small boats, they'd glance over the red waves and squint into the evening sun, and they'd never think to look the other way and up instead of down. They'd look for a beautiful mermaid that needed saving, and not for a scrawny, scaly girl sitting safely on a cliff.
The boy had been told to beware of the mermaids; had been warned that they would pull him from his boat into the depth of the w
The KrakenThe Kraken3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your life is a boat
Wandering the desolate seas.
But then nothing.
Until the heavens open.
The seas waves grow and grow
Hitting your mast,
What guides you
pulling you on your right path.
In the dark deep waters
Lurks a demon.
A demon so big
It will swallow you whole.
until your last dying breath.
Your worst enemy.
It will wrap its deadly tentacles around you.
Squeeze away your pleading scream.
It's your life's worst enemy.
SchmetterlingsfaengerSie kniete mitten im hohen Gras, umgeben von schwankenden Halmen. Löwenzahnsamen verfingen sich in ihrem Haar. Der Blick des Mädchens war nach oben gerichtet, zum strahlenden Blau des Sommerhimmels. Sie schien auf irgendetwas zu warten.Schmetterlingsfaenger3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Zögernd machte Theo ein paar Schritte auf sie zu. Er hatte sie noch nie gesehen; wahrscheinlich war sie ein Feriengast oder gerade erst zugezogen. Sie hatte ihn noch nicht bemerkt.
Ganz langsam hob das Mädchen etwas in die Höhe. Das Sonnenlicht brach sich darauf und helle Lichtpunkte tanzten über die Wiese – ein Glas. Es war ein großes Einmachglas, wie Theos Großmutter sie benutzte. Was wollte die Fremde damit? Sie benahm sich ohne Zweifel ziemlich seltsam, aber dennoch war sie im Moment die einzige gleichaltrige Gesellschaft, die ihm geblieben war. Seine Freunde waren gleich zu Beginn der großen Ferien in den Urlaub gefahren.
„Was machst du da?", fragte Theo. Er stand nun direkt hinter dem Mädchen, doch sie blieb einfach reglos sitzen und hielt ihr Gla
The Guardian of Wind and ForestThe machine loomed above her. Its left side had sunken deep into the ground even though it hadn't rained in days and small trees grew knee-high all around the vehicle. The plants had appeared over night, out of thin air it seemed.The Guardian of Wind and Forest2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Alea wound her way through the shrubbery to take a closer look at the wood harvesting machine. The door of the driver's cab stood open at an angle like a broken wing. Silvery scratches marred the yellow finish, bearing witness of the enormous momentum with which the machine had been attacked. Around the scratches, something darker glinted on the metal. The sight made Alea shudder, even though she could not tell why.
Just then, a gust of wind rustled through the surrounding forest and a single black feather glided to the ground. Alea picked it up. It was almost as long as her arm, much too large for any bird she knew, and the feather's tip was covered in the same dark substance she had noticed on the scratches.
Close up like this, there was no do
Hospital Collection: JellybeanWhy Jellybeans Are Better Than People.Hospital Collection: Jellybean6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
- Jellybeans come in all shapes, sizes and colours.
- Some are twisted and deformed, some are broken, some are shrunken and half-formed. But jellybeans dont whisper, persecute of discriminate against other jellybeans.
- Jellybeans have simple needs. And they dont ask for much.
- Jellybeans are bright and smooth to touch.
- With jellybeans, what you see is what you get.
- Jellybeans dont hate or love or feel guilt and regret.
- Jellybeans dont get jealous if you eat another jellybean first.
- Jellybeans are there for you, for better or for worse.
- Jellybeans taste better than human flesh.
- Jellybeans dont require gravestones after death.
RainOnce upon a time,Rain2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(Because isn’t that how all stories begin?),
The earth was a barren and dry wasteland.
With nothing more to grow on it than sand and rocks.
The folks who lived here liked this just fine.
Plenty of room to walk until you were so tired all you could do was lay on the ground and sunbath.
And once upon this time,
There lived a very small girl.
Not because she was particularly young, in fact she was as old as the sand dunes,
She was just small.
Her name was Blue.
This was because she loved to stare into the sky and marvel at its color.
She decided she liked it so much, it would be her color too.
Everyone mocked her for this.
They found her navy skin and aqua hair silly.
And so they said so.
Blue never thought much of this, but her brothers did.
They thought constantly about her strangeness.
And worried that her strangeness might rub off onto them.
Their friends had told them it would after all.
Their parents had told them that was silly afte
CadenceMy wrist, the soft hollow of a violinCadence6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the cold blade, the bow
each stroke a sweet, soft note in my skull
every touch a chord
from the gentle echoes of my soul.
I slide diminuendos on a silver stave
every scale turning sorrow into song
each smooth scar becomes a symphony
toneless harmonies played lifelong.
Every bruise is a crescendo
turning my breath to hymns
it reverberates into shadow
a vibrato etched into the skin
and I, the quiet maestro,
waiting for the voices of the crowd
to whisper against my ribs, my chest
staring through the silk bones to my heart.
EvieIt started with the falling flowers. Evie sat on the small balcony's balustrade and watched the red petals drift down to the street. They were the only color on the gray asphalt, surrounded by lighter gray walls under a cloudy sky.Evie1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Like diamonds, Evie thought, or drops of blood.
Her feet dangled in the air, five stories above the ground. Her parents always told her not to sit on the balustrade like that – you'll break your neck one of these days – but when she was alone, Evie did it nonetheless. Hour after hour, day after day.
Only the old man living in the flat above would accompany her, though he probably didn't even know that she was there. Humming, he would water his flowers, pluck off dead leaves, put them from the shade into the sun and back again. Every day, until now.
Now, the red petals were falling, and Evie knew that he was gone.
Star FishThere is a town close to the ocean that has more stars than any other place. It is no quirk of nature and no trick of the eye. All the extra lights were put into the night sky by one little boy. It was alwazs a full moon when the star fish appeared. Star fish – that was what he called them. Every one else said they were just jellyfish, glibbery and icky, but the little boy knew better.Star Fish5 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
And so when they stranded on the beach, he fetched up the flat and lifeless bodies and brought them to his lips. Sometimes, this quick kiss would sting, but most of the time the star fish just let out a sigh. Then, they inhaled deeply. Pale bodies stretched and grew, and the boy watched as they lifted from his hand. Tentacle-veils billowed behind them as the star fish drifted up towards the moon, glowing in its light.
Der KupferdrahtjungeEr wurde geschaffen, um einen verlorenen Sohn zu ersetzen. Er hatte Gefühle, Träume, einen Namen, doch sein Körper war nicht menschlich. Gebrannter Ton formte sein Rückgrat, die Rippen und den Kopf; sein Gesicht war eine Maske aus weißem Porzellan. Gewundenes Kupferdraht bildete sein Fleisch, biegsam und stark, aber kalt.Der Kupferdrahtjunge3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Die Frau, deren Sohn er hatte sein sollen, traute sich nicht, ihn anzusehen. Wenn er den Raum betrat, schloss sie die Augen. Nur in dieser Dunkelheit sprach sie mit ihm. Sie ließ zu, dass eine Illusion die Realität ersetzte und nach sechs Jahren wurde die Illusion für sie zur Wirklichkeit. Bis zum Tag ihres Todes erlaubte sie ihrem künstlichen Sohn, sich um sie zu kümmern. Danach war er allein.
Tag für Tag blickte Felix vom Küchenfenster in den Park hinaus. Das Haus um ihn herum war still, dunkel und leer, und er fühlte sich genauso. Er konnte die Leere in seinem Inneren sehen; durch die Lü
HomeIt is a twenty minute journey from one world to another; from the city centre to the suburbs and from the present to the past.Home2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Orange lamplight and the smell of flowers are my greeting as I get off the bus. Curtains are drawn in most of the windows, cars parked in the driveways to rest before the morning rush. The silence is stunning. Only far off in the distance, I hear the clink of a bottleneck shattered on a curb – another failed attempt at opening a drink, another small mishap to replace entertainment for the night.
I walk on. I am a stranger in these streets of my childhood. Only at the corner of my vision, I still see the world as it was back then; a sunny day before the children are send to bed. I see myself riding my bike and making treasures of the most ordinary things. Once, an old tire had turned into a boat for me. It sat on a sandy patch at the edge of the forest, far away from any water, but still it was an adventure only waiting to be found.
But all that happened b
mercyThere is no mercy in thismercy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
this space that we don't share and the
distance. You are the water
that I'm drowning in and it isn't
the good kind of not-breathing. I'm wishing
that summer wasn't so long and
I had ways to forget you.
But I don't
have anything but thunder and storybooks,
tears and memories of nothing worth recalling.
And there you are going on living and
I am sorry that I can't
be the sky or the sea for you.
I'm sorry that I don't have what it takes
to make you smile at me.
Rock SkipperI have an affinity for water. It soothes my soul somehow, makes me feel safe. It entices, bewitches and beguiles. In the quiet, when the water is smooth as glass, it pleads a silent invitation. The endless stillness calls to me, begging for something. I have been called like this since I was a child and there was only one consistent solution.Rock Skipper4 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Rocks. Now, I am a great skipper of rocks.
There is something about walking along the shore, searching for beautifully flat rocks. The joy of the hunt, the thrill of such a simple chase is magic. My eyes scan and peruse the tan sand grains, searching for perfectly flat-sided rocks. Running constantly in the back of my mind is the thought of beating my record of eight skips. I accept or reject on that basis. The water invites, the wind whispers. I stoop and smile, sandy fingers searching, while dark hair flies around my eyes.
One thought persists: all I need is one flat side. Color matters not, size matters not (not really, I'm that good of
The Bus Stop DialoguesI.The Bus Stop Dialogues6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A young man at the bus stop
turns to me and softly asks
"Why aren't you wearing shoes?"
He taps the faded leather
of his suedo-skin
and his eyes smile in a gentle lilt
before his mouth does.
I tell him that I like
to feel the earth breathe.
That textures keep my mind alive
and ticking like a clock.
I tell him that I'm trying to grow roots
so my pale limbs can twist into a tree
(the way L and I talked about it in therapy).
I tell him that my soul is lonely
and the ground is the only thing that's always there.
I tell him that bare skin is sensitive
and stroking it with every (twelfth) step
is a soothing form of self-care.
I tell him that I walk on water
and if I had shoes; I'd drown.
I tell him that my soles bruise
until they match my soul.
I tell him that my bones are soft
and the soil sews them back into reality
when I'm losing grip on sanity.
I tell him that I'm praying
one day I'll step on a syringe.
I shrug my shoulders,
open my mouth and say
"I just didn't feel like weari
SeelenfaengerKaltes Wasser. Wellen, die ihre nackten Füße umspielten.Seelenfaenger3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Wo war sie?
Langsam setzte sie sich auf, blinzelte in das graue Licht eines frühen Oktobermorgens. Zu ihrer Linken befand sich der Fluss, grau wie der Himmel, nur kaum merklich dunkler. Rechts von ihr reckten einige Büsche und Bäume ihre fast schon kahlen Zweige gen Himmel. Nur hier und da flatterte noch ein einzelnes braunes Blatt im Wind. Eine einzelne, verwitterte Bank stand am Ufer des Flusses.
Sie konnte sich nicht daran erinnern, wie sie hierher gekommen war. Natürlich nicht. Sie musste wieder schlafgewandelt sein, aber immerhin war sie dieses Mal nicht an irgendeinem gefährlichen Ort aufgewacht. Eine echte Verbesserung, wenn sie daran dachte, wo sie sich sonst oft wiederfand mitten auf der Hauptstraße, auf den Bahngleisen, einer Brücke, dem Dach eines Hochhauses. Die Luft war kalt und sie zitterte bereits in ihrem dünnen Nachthemd, doch verglichen mit d
Ice FeverThe sky was frozen. There were no clouds and nothing moved. The world was stilled by cold. Ice crunched underneath Clarissa's feet as she stepped out onto the frozen lake. Tiny cracks crisscrossed away from where she touched the surface. The ice was blue, but she could not tell whether it was the reflection of the sky above or the water below.Ice Fever3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
In the center of the lake, snow spiraled up into the air; carried by a wind without source and without direction. The white snowflakes glittered like silver in the bright light of the sun that brought no warmth any longer. Clarissa smiled. She knew that twirl of flying snow. It had always been there, in every single winter she remembered. An old friend. A secret love.
The North Wind.
It had called her for the first time when she was only five years old. Her parents had taken her on Christmas vacation to this remote place out in snowed-in nowhere. Her father had taught her how to ice-skate on the lake. He told her not to venture out too far, and n
Epinephrine WhisperI bleed fearEpinephrine Whisper6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and breathe paralysis
drug myself into sanity
and drip with the rain
every drop a thought
falling out of my soul
and tripping out of my brain.
I crawl screaming and sobbing
to the phone
and listen for hours to
the white noise of
the static dial tone.
My fingers shake
as I call
the crisis hotline
child youth mental health team.
she doesn't know
she doesn't know
she doesn't know
I don't have a
I don't have a
My therapist isn't here today.
"Sorry. Would you like to leave a
I hang up
bite my hands
until they bleed
and bang my head against the floor
again and again
I dial the number
Ask for the psychiatrist
that saw me at the hospital.
He's on break.
He'll be coming back
in an hour.
there's no time.
I'll be dead by then.
I need to talk to someone.
She doesn't tell me
to hold on,
she doesn't keep
Without Grace~February 1998~Without Grace4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Both of my hands rest on the gentle swell of my abdomen. Standing in front of the window above the sink, I draw invisible magic circles on the skin over the baby girl nestled inside my expanding body. I stare out the window at nothing, while a tiny smile plays upon my lips. My eyes may not see, but my imagination is in full swing; I am dreaming wide awake. It is a parent's natural inclination. I see puppies, ribbons and lace, school buses, tears, phones, boys, books and hands clasped with matching gold bands.
We are close, she and I. We share the same breath, the same nourishment. She startles when I do and she doesn't like when I am upset. I don't know that I have ever been closer to anyone, as I am my children. They were literally a part of me, my body their first home. I felt every flutter, movement and wiggle until they were jabbing elbows, backsides and knees. An attentive hostess, I watch with wonder and fearful trepidation as the two of us grow togeth
The WordsIt started softly at first. Little words and instances, and small betrayals that left questions sticking in her mind like needles. Words that hit her skin like stones, leaving bruises that spread and scarred and left fear in their wake, words that kept her up at night.The Words3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Who I am? What am I doing here? And who are you?
The words start tumbling faster now, and come with twisted expressions of anger, bitterness, resentment and blame. It's taking her back to her childhood; the memories of disquiet and fear and always, always the blame. It's taking her back to the fear of speaking, the fear of being touched, ever. The fear of meeting someone's eyes. There is only anger around her. An atmosphere weighed down by secrets and the blush of blood rising into skin. And inside, nothing but emptiness and the echoes of something deeper, something that will never be undone.
There is a stranger asleep beside me. Someone I no longer understand, who no longer understands me. I am afraid of their
Verborgene WeltDas Mädchen sitzt auf der Parkbank und wartet, regungslos und stumm, ganz am Rand der Sitzfläche und mit den Händen unter den Beinen, als wäre ihr kalt. Feuerrotes Haar tanzt um ihr Gesicht; immer in Bewegung, immer wirr. Sie wartet. Sie wartet auf jemanden, der stehen bleibt und für einen Augenblick gen Himmel blickt.Verborgene Welt11 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
Um sie herum fallen die Blätter und enthüllen eine verborgene Welt aus reinem Licht; ein Königreich der Träume, sichtbar nur für einen Augenblick. Es liegt auf der Unterseite der fallenden Blätter, wenn die Sonne sie streift, vorbeigetragen vom Oktoberwind – einen Moment lang ganz nah und im nächsten schon fort.
Wenn das Blatt den Boden berührt, ist diese strahlende Unterseite unsichtbar; die Oberseite ist goldgelb oder rot wie ein Rubin – hübsch, sagen die Leute, doch die wahre Schönheit bleibt ihren Blicken verborgen. Die Unterseite des gefallenen Blattes wird auf dem Boden zertreten
Abril(English version down)Abril3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
La lluvia era la única cosa que podía ver con otros sentidos. La oía repiquetear contra las banquetas y los cristales. La olía mojando el pasto y la basura de las calles. Sentía las gotas frías correr por mi cuello. Degustaba los colores dulces y salados de la lluvia con viento.
Era la única cosa que me mantenía lejos de la navajita que mi mamá tenía.
La niña que había crecido conmigo se llamaba Abril. Era idéntica a mí en todos los aspectos excepto la ropa que usábamos. No hablaba mucho. Yo tampoco. Mamá decía que Abril no hablaba porque había nacido estúpida. Yo no hablaba porque me estaba volviendo estúpida.
Iba a la escuela todos los días y me quedaba allí hasta tarde. Regresaba a mi casa a eso de las seis. Abril también iba a la escuela pero ella salía más temprano. Cuando yo llegaba a la casa llegaba cansada y Abril siempre quería que jugáramos. Muchas veces le tuve que decir que no porque tenía tarea. Tuve que contener mi tristeza al ver su expresió