lose the kink or lose the limb

lose the kink or lose the limb

„Today’s the day! The day you’ve been waiting for: ‚LOSE THE KINK OR LOSE THE LIMB‘!“ A pleasant male voice booms through a bright space.  Applause and deafening cheers wake Una from her slumber.

Her mouth feels fuzzy.

She doesn’t remember going to bed. Instead, she remembers doing seventy on the interstate ninety-five, just past Trenton. She is on her way to the most important test screening in her carrier. Evening news, here she comes! That job has her name written all over it. Una Hawthorn, the new face on ABWD.

Continue reading “lose the kink or lose the limb”

Tea Time

Tea Time

I bring in the tray with a steaming teapot and two gold-rimmed cups. John throws me an amused looked. „Tea? Really?“ He’s happy to throw me out of my house. I’m just a joke to him.

„Courtesy. One last time. Before…“ I put down the tray on the coffee table. Tears sting in my eyes. I cannot force them back down.

„You brought it on yourself!“ He does not hide his annoyance. I nod and pour in the hot liquid into the cups. He takes a sip. „Mmm, good.“

I do not drink it, I just stare. „It’s monkshood.“

 

Under The Armor

Under The Armor

Once, I saw a man standing by a lake,

Hands by his side, dipped in ache.

His alabaster glass skin glowed blue,

confusion and regret, a heart too true,

lit only by the full moon´s light.

He looked like a deadly wounded knight.

Around his head the nimbus of black hair,

like seaweed, floating in liquid air;

moved by unseen currents of wrath.

Small fish hid there, undulating plastic trash.

I cannot forget those eyes, white and cruelly blank.

like a carcass washed unto the riverbank…

A godlike face, innocent, then scalded by waves of time,

ripped by tides of passion, molded by crime:

laughing, weeping, screaming for atonement.

… I chose him as my opponent.

 


image from Animatrix (Peter Chung)

Mr Burke

Mr Burke

published here


The tiger folded his paws, cuffs slipping, showing monograms on his golden cufflinks.

Peterson shuddered. The bureau was huge, bigger than his house.

It made the boss look even more elegant and sophisticated, then before.

The white marble-topped table was impressive, the tiger enthroning the big black leather chair looked like a king holding court.

“Peterson. Do you think, this impresses me?” The tiger snorted and laid his ears back. His golden eyes pierced the weasel sitting in front of his desk. “Do you think this is ENOUGH?” The growl in his voice made the glass of the windows tremble.

Continue reading “Mr Burke”

War Time Tours

War Time Tours

“Right behind you!”

That’s all I need.

Alec’s leather suit creaks, as he leans over to shut off the master inhibitory signals on our implants. The log-tunnel lights up. 

Protocol, protocol. My babysitter-in-time is a babysitter-by-the-book; dutifully complicating my plans. He’s the best. He’s the best I can buy. His missions are like good thrillers, never lost anyone – neither in combat, nor on a time trip. Alec is going to be so pissed, when he finds out I switched coordinates.  Continue reading “War Time Tours”

Thorns and Rose

Thorns and Rose

Old age was a curse.

Anyone old enough could relate.

It marked the slow end of abilities, and the beginning of limitations. But this was a world made of limitations, wasn’t it? Old age was an abomination, a fence, an unscalable wall, but only if you ignored your abilities all your life long. Within those boundaries, anyone could roam freely.

My name is Rose, like the flower. My short-lived husband, Carl, loved my bloom, my thorns, my venom.  He called my sense of justice, venom.

Continue reading “Thorns and Rose”

Nothing

Nothing

Published here


The metro reeks of sweat and wet dog.

Her expression is empty.

It always is. Holding that old crutch of hers, she walks. She walks slowly, and looks miserable too. But that isn’t hard with those exposed, burnt and broken legs of hers.

“A cripple has nothing to lose,” her father says so, before burning her. He says it, before he breaks her ankle and knee. First her right leg, then the left. 

She stretches out a hand, hovering in front of her, like a small cloud over a desert; white and calm, waiting to dissolve into the blue of space. She doesn’t look at the faces. People are easily annoyed. No eye contact. That’s the rule. 

There is nothing to see. She tells herself. Although… There is something worth looking at, maybe even staring at. Continue reading “Nothing”