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”

opening sentences

  1. “What’s with the eyes? ALL of them look like this?!” I held up the family photo album with childhood pics of my fiancé.
  2. “What did I tell you about dating dragons?” – “Uh… Not to use them to light Molotov-Cocktails?”
  3. “Darling, the fridge is doing the thing again! I’ll call the exorcist now. Hate it when the eggs try to talk me into blood sacrifice.
  4. “STOP TICKLING THE MINE! It’ll laugh and it’ll blow!”
  5. The dragon tried to slide his claw over the touchscreen of his phone. He growled but nothing happened.

 

good advice

It’s no fun, being dragged behind a car at breakneck speed.

Just in case you were wondering, or planning on doing it… DON’T!

Half of the time you try to dodge stones and sharp rocks, and you try not to get too close to the tires of the following car, for obvious reasons. The other half, you try not to swallow too much dirt and fumes, so you won’t get dizzy. You have no time to enjoy the view. Besides, it’s most likely, that some moon tanned idiots scream profanities at you; all seven of them at once. This makes it even harder not to damage anything vitally important, like head, neck, spine, hands, or eyes. God of skull integrity, stay with me!

Some of those volume bloated harsh statements about your family and your origin are pure fiction and wishful thinking. Their promises of where which of their and your body parts will go, is mildly off-putting and fly off of the politeness chart. The newly imprinted courtesy protocol in your neural language hub does its best to bleep the sense out of words lodging themselves into your auditory canal. Thank you, universal translator. Well done, courtesy protocol.

So, how did I get myself tied up and dragged behind a car, you ask? Not on purpose. I’m not that crazy, despite the gossip – I swear. It chalks up to being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m the odd one out, not fast enough to hide in the nooks and crannies of my gallery, down in sub-level five.

It’s questioning from the lunatics’ point of view. It’s a full grown lynch mob, if you ask me. But no one ever does.

med bay snippets #2

The soft purring of the monitoring alarm on my watch wakes me, by vibrating. I’m up…

I tell the watch and it recognizes my voice. The command kills the alarm.

Sleeping at the med bay is seldom a good idea, and sleeping at a working station – uh, table – is downright irresponsible. I rub my face into some kind of wakefulness and wish I could rub my back into a painless state. Continue reading “med bay snippets #2”

the onks

the onks

 

The vicious little thing, that looked like an ordinary eight years old boy, had a rotten day. He had the onks. Gnomes were prone to get the onks, especially  the young ones; and being a member of the royal family did nothing to prevent that. It was bearable in human disguise though, mingling, watching these oafs, and doing little mischiefs was entertaining enough to stand the bad days.

Continue reading “the onks”

I dare not look

I dare not look

*

I’ve put myself together,

too many times…

*

my jagged edges protect me no more

from examining eyes,

nor protruding words

*

fissures streak down my cheeks’n  limbs

barely visible to others;

hiding under patches;

covered by lies…

*

Cutting myself when feeling for my heart,

unknown regions of  emotions –

safely ribboned off,

like a crime scene;

I dare not  look

*

I dare not breathe the dark atmosphere

I dare not touch the chalk white lines

on the wet concrete

I dare not look

*

– at you


 

inspired by Jacob Ibrag’s “Crawl

 

London Dispersion Force

London Dispersion Force

*

Gray comet ice melting in green ocean water,

that’s what your eyes remind me of… salty cold.

Our time, the bright of friction heat and falling,

the mess, this ‘us’ refuses to be –

I remember, grasping, understanding, holding,

clinging – all the same to me: believing, hoping,

My love can keep both of us safe, I’m sure

becoming haven to stormy waters…

And the comet crashes. Burning, bleeding,

consuming all I have to give, and all I am

My hull  keeps you company,  memory of warmths

I have lost, I crumble…

and let you go…

I let you live, to find your own idea of… happiness


 

inspired by ‘Hold on‘ by Jacob Ibrag