Part 1 - Wings of an Angel
The gulls make a ruckus. They are restless. News will arrive shortly, my mother used to say. God rest her poor soul.
No clouds hide the blue sky. Before the morning mass, I see the sails. They appear on the horizon like the wings of an angel. Bright. White. Impatiently expected. I’ve been waiting for this ship. Everything is going to be fine now. Thank God Almighty. She will arrive at noon. I give out the orders to bring Captain Andersen to my office as soon as possible. Continue reading “peter midnight”
He has me, as I enter my hotel room with my keycard. The cold steel of a blade presses against my throat.
Furniture lays on its back, like dead flies. Pillows are gutted, ripped apart. What a mess!
I bolt. But he yanks me back. Hard.
No chance to reach the door. I catch myself by falling to one knee. Who the hell is this guy? His fist digs into my ponytail and drags me back.
“OW!” He pulls me to the furthermost corner of the room. My back hurts. His grip in my hair is angry iron! “STOP!”
Why is he so incredibly fast and strong? I don’t even see him move! How is this even possible? As if I have no weight at all.
“Gomen nasai!” I stammer. My apology has no effect. Why is this happening to me? Where are my things?
Continue reading “Do I wanna know?”
– NAMES FOR BLADES –
remember, this is still WIP
The trees creaked as if the moon itself rolled on top of them. The sky was still bright enough but caught amber on the west side. The silence was accompanying a sense of dread and heaviness on my chest. “We should hurry,” I told Frank. No birds chirped, no animal rustled the leaves. The longer we had our feet on the trail, the quieter the forest got. Continue reading “DEVIL’S PEAK (2)”
“THE HORSE DID IT!” I roared at Detective Inspector Redfern, pointing at the nervous beast in the box behind me. He rolled his eyes. The Detective Inspector, not the horse. This was my only chance to solve the murder of Beggy, the jockey, and save myself.
“You, braindead ululating crumpet! You snuck into my crime scene to – what?- brighten my sad little day up?” I kept out of his and the horse’s reach. My jaw still had vivid memories of the time he caught me good with his famous left hook, and no way I came close to that thing. Continue reading “Improbable”
Olaf is a resourceful man, isn’t he? A skilled hunter and a handy craftsman. A bloodthirsty maniac can still learn a lot from him. On your thirteenth day together, a black cloud comes, and man cannot walk, birds can’t fly, and fish can’t swim. Dear Aries, you will be safe, you will be held. It’s all upside down from here on, but you will BE.
Collect all dolls in your house, and put them into a box. Leave them out in a park, a parking lot, an island, the swamp, anywhere you like, but not near your house or flat. They mustn’t return to you. Their revenge will be most gruesome if they find you. They will punish you for what you did to them. Continue reading “Weekly Horrorscope”
Sorry, dear Aries. Last week the Vikings were coming, not the locusts. Hold your horses, we do make mistakes. Granted, never big ones, we’re not perfect. Oh, and the big Viking hiding in your basement is getting hungry, and thirsty. Give the man some pizza, and maybe some mead, so he won’t try to kill you. By the way, he is Olaf and likes long walks on the beach, braided beards and long shiny hair.
Time is looping around you. You shouldn’t be that happy, you know. Yes, it is a great achievement, and you are a genius. But… Sigh, we know you want everything to remain as it is. You merit great moments, you really do. Reliving them makes us a bit sleepy, and bored. You know what? Contact us, if you’ve had enough. Continue reading “Weekly Horrorscope”
The locusts are coming. It’s not a warning, it’s a promise. We know you are not a farmer. We know you don’t give a s****, but the locusts do. It’s a mutation within your DNA. Those locusts are just going to love you to bits. We suggest you don’t leave your apartment, and tape the windows and the doors shut.
There are letters on your doorstep. They are all the love letters that were lost, or never sent in the first place. There are simple napkins, post-its, envelopes, and torn notebook pages. Some are wet, some perfumed and some are pink. If you’re lucky, you live on ground floor, and you are able to leave through a window. If not… We will come to that next week. Continue reading “Weekly Horrorscope”