I’ll try to keep this one short and sweet. One more blogging year has passed, the good people from WP just reminded me. The fifth one… Well, this blog has certainly survived far longer than I thought it would, thanks to the wonderful community I’ve discovered here. Thank you for your support, for your input, for all the time you offered me this year… and thank you for sharing bits of your souls and inspiring thoughts with all of us! Continue reading “A Small December Gift”
I can still remember the noise so well. There’s a specific noise a human body makes by bumping into an old door, when late at night it tries to instinctively make its way to a flat, after having had too much to drink in some forsaken pub. Continue reading “Freedom (Fragment 2)”
It should have been a boy. A boy still had a chance. It only made sense to be that way. Her innocence robbed from her without warning, by a force bigger than her, while her kind, loving fiancé had no idea about what was happening, the shame of carrying a child out of wedlock… it simply had to be a boy.
But a girl… She held her daughter in her arms, overwhelmed by an unknown wonderful warmth, torn apart by feelings she didn’t know anyone could experience. Continue reading “Mother (Fragment 2)”
We were talking about pillows while he had me in his arms, in a tight embrace, skin on skin. It was summer, warm and terribly humid, and I understood he didn’t care for such heat. Yet he stubbornly refused to let me go.
He was telling me he also slept with lots of pillows at home. One of his hands was holding mine, while the other took hold of a pillow, placing it between the two of us, and he was laughing. He grabbed the pillow and squeezed it tightly against his chest, allowing me to try and break free for a second.
“This is how I sleep at home. But tonight, however, this is how I’m holding you.”
That was when I realized how lonely he was.
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The brief account of the events leading to that moment was over and the lady in front of him was silent now, waiting for him to react. Statuesque and commanding, yet somehow maternal, that’s how the officer’s wife appeared to him that evening. Continue reading “Neighbours (Fragment 2)”
There’s nothing worse than a good man – a good man who thinks it’s enough to be a good man.
She touches the words on the first page, fingers taking in the essence of their own writing. Has he started with the first page or has he pried right in the middle of her inky thoughts? Continue reading “Albatross (Fragment 2)”
The inheritance was the desperately needed answer. However, the question only dared word itself the moment I found the solution. Of course my first impulse was to flee. For so long, I had dreamt of seeing and experiencing places without having to tailor my desires in order to fit a schedule, a person or financial considerations. Continue reading “Freedom (Fragment 1)”
He puts his hand between her legs… she needs to prove it…. Her tensed muscles try to stop him, but he’s much stronger. He pulls her near, his left hand on the nape of her neck, in her hair, pulling and squeezing. His mouth finds hers and for what feels like an endless moment she lets him do whatever he pleases… because she doesn’t know anything anymore… or maybe it’s because she’s a girl and that’s what girls like her are supposed to do. Continue reading “Mother (Fragment 1)”
“I’m stealing all your pillows while you’re sleeping, you’ll see. Now that you’ve got me, you don’t need them anymore anyway.”
In fact, I needed a lot more than a pillow between the two of us. He managed to get so much closer than I would have wished… Continue reading “Us (Fragment 1)”
People come together under most unexpected of circumstances. Sometimes love unites them; but there are also those times when hatred and revenge forge the strongest connections.
A moan escaped from the thrashed creature, but no eyes turned into that direction.
“He killed them…” the professor cried. “Do you think I have any moral holdback about hurting a man who can’t defend himself? I don’t give a fuck, not after that night. He killed them… he killed a pregnant woman and her unborn child… that’s all I have left, the hope to get my hands on him…”
The heart-breaking lament died out, the professor’s voice breaking down in tears as the officer’s wife stood in front of him. Her big, kind, motherly eyes were somehow controlling his glance, he realized, bringing it back from the object of his rage, bringing him back from his own blinding pain. Continue reading “Neighbours (Fragment 1)”
Note – Grey is the story closest to my heart from Albatross…. because Grey is a part of me. While all the other short stories are pure fiction, this one is based on some of my childhood memories. It’s a personal touch, a glimpse of nostalgia, a part of me that I wanted to share with my readers. It’s also the story that sparked this book, the one I was referring to when sharing what started this particular writing project.
It wasn’t bad. It was happy. It was life. We were children and we were never told grey was supposed to be bad. Grey was childhood. Grey was us in our purest form. We never denied it and we never minded it, because we never knew it.
We became grey those lazy, endless summer afternoons. Continue reading “Grey (Fragment 1)”
When a relationship gradually suffocates the partners’ identity, the two can either find individual ways to survive or fight as a couple. Deciding what kind of betrayal is worse or whose fault is greater may not always be an option.
“The albatross still haunting her as she was heading home with her newly purchased purple notebook, she could no longer fight the fact that it was still too early. The time for her to forget and to give up on life hadn’t come yet. She was still young. There was still time. All was not lost, she was not lost… Continue reading “Albatross (Fragment 1)”
Releasing a new book is always an exciting event, especially for the author. Well, it is such a day for me… After the initial moment of panic, also known as the “Oh no – it’s out there, for anyone to read” instant, I remember how important breathing actually is and I move on to a sort of “proud momma” sensation. Yes, I am happy this is happening and I’m happy it’s happening now, it feels right.
Dear friends, thank you for your support and all your encouraging words regarding my writing. So many of you shared inspiring stories about your experience in this field and although I am not usually very verbal (yes, I often lurk in the shadows) they haven’t gone unnoticed or unappreciated. I think we all know how such stories sometimes speak to us, especially in those moments when we consider giving up on our writing, or at least on sharing it with the world. Truth be told, I was rather reluctant about sharing my Albatross stories at first, as I tend to be about sharing most of my writing these days. Continue reading “Albatross – The Big Day”
I always loved the beginning of summer. For so many reasons – some deep, others more superficial – June has always been a special time of year for me…
It’s that time of year which makes me feel everything is possible. Years keep passing, yet this sensation is a powerful constant every early summer. Together with my love for fresh cherries and strawberries and that unbelievable fragrance of blooming linden trees, it’s something I hope to always love, a part of me I hope will never change. It has always been a promise of new experiences, unexpected options and lots of fun. With that come the itch to run away and travel, the desire to try something different, and the somewhat self-destructive wish to rock the boat. Continue reading “The Magic of June”
There are no villains and no heroes, only people caught in a pivotal moment of their existence. Nothing is absolute, no one is only good or entirely evil. One’s life course can be deviated in an instant, and choices are often made instinctively, unconsciously, not only rationally, under socially acceptable terms. Imperfect, damaged characters struggle with their duality and evolution. Their reactions are the product of violence, physical and emotional abuse, neurosis, depression, but also of love, hope and melancholy. Fear is what they all have in common. Continue reading “Albatross”
Idea notebooks, random scribbling on post-its, notes on your phone, various drafts on your computer… if you’re anything like me – that is, if you enjoy writing – then you’ve probably accumulated all of them. I’m not as bad as it sounds, really…. It’s a neat mess I’m talking about here, I know where everything goes. I also know which nonsensical drafts/ideas might stand a chance to become something more, so I keep them… sometimes for years. Continue reading “Some Stories Have to Be Told”