Black Door

Black Door

1 & 2; 3 ; 4; 6; 7


“I’ll tell you. For the sake of-” Farnsw-Peter stared me down, eyes like liquid fire, fierce and angry. “You won’t stop, will you?” His gaze locked on mine. I shook my head not able to utter a word. My mouth was dry. Funny. Never thought he had it in him. What a surprise!

“I won’t leave anything out. That’s what you’re afraid of. I don’t want fame or fortune. I don’t care about my mark in history. Not like this.” He expected something from me, but when he saw, I didn’t know what, he shook his head. He was disappointed with me?

“I’m sorry. I truly am, Peter.” I tried softly. Where was he heading? What did he want, if not being a part of such a significant, table-turning discovery? Was money on his mind?

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Traitor’s Hell

Traitor’s Hell

chuck wendig prompt – song lyrics prompt

…”Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep’em on a leash” … HOZIER, ARSONIST’S LULLABY



Cold. Someone slaps me. It’s wet, hard. And freezing. My arms and legs hurt. Can’t move. Getting dark.

“Wake up, rat. You won’t duck justice!” Barking. Far away a dog barks. “WAKE THE FUCK UP! Don’t you dare to die! 911- Hello? Yes. Send an ambulance, fast. Corinth 1507. There’s been a fire. Yes, male, Caucasian, shot several times. I don’t know… Yeah… I’m starting CPR.”

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Two Silver Trees

Two Silver Trees

I can’t get over this song….

For hours on end, it is the perfect sound-sphere for me. I sit and listen. I write and listen, I wash, mop up, or do the dishes. And I listen.

Then it finally hit me!
I’ve had this curious feeling before… This painting is one of my favorites. “Homesickness“, 1940, by Renè Magritte. It aches the same way, this song aches me.
Look at that lost and lonely lion. Oh, how he wishes he could go home.
Let me tell you a little story about the lonely lion of my old hometown, in Romania.
In my hometown, there was a zoo, a tiny and more than awful zoo. It must have been hell for all living creatures. The stench was unbelievable. But there was this lion.
When I first saw him, I knew right away, he has born in the wilderness of Africa. He was proud, and still had this extraordinary and stubborn fire in his eyes. He stood and looked. He noted his captors.
The second time I saw him, he didn’t look at the spectators anymore. He paced in that tiny cage (2×3 m). Up and down. Up and down … He was heartbroken.
Still, every morning and every night, the wind carried his roars to my window. He called out. I understood those calls, I pretended – like children do – that I felt his heart.
First his roars were angry.
With each passing month, the rumbling in his throat turned more and more desperate.

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