bad blood

One cold night the full moon’s blaze burns

The children tremble and pray, taking turns

The sky bursts its heartbeat into buzz’n thunder

Black turning into whistling metal, going under

My sweet baby, there’s only blood for your baptize

ready for bed, after the noise and havoc slowly dies

Stay in your cellars, a howling beast is out tonight

It’s something beautiful, deadly and cruelly bright

The night shivers with autumn stars

Highways packed with abandoned cars

Dark and deep silence solidifies into absence

shifting days and nights back into balance

Wishful thinking, being covered in leafs and  mud

Meat and saliva, sweet baby, this is bad blood

Money and Media

Money and Media

Money is one sinister god I used to prayed to

Me, the kid with the broken heart and  faulty hue

Struck by the currency of freedom and power,

It’s not my  conscience, but my hands I scour

That’s me, on the day I was born, with a black halo

eager to meet my  maker,  without value or credo

In the night, I dream of  ‚never enoughs‘

I dare you, try’n grab me by my scruff

My god grants, gives, takes and demands

I refused and he took me to the  bad lands

 

I’m praying to a different god now,

That’s me, giving her my cash cow –

Me, the sinister kid with the broken briefcase

Smiling, the lens sticking into my happy fat face

promises and cash spilling out, unto the masses

This is me laughing, crawling  to a party of chances

I can’t stop the itching, watch me rehearse bigotry

Media, my goddesses, free me from human dignity


Pic: iStockphoto

the problem with magic

There is no such thing as magic. Not anymore… Real magic is extinct.

I haven’t seen any since… Huh, I can’t remember since when. Funny. I haven’t seen any real magic in an amazingly long time- at least one thousand years, or more. Come to think of it, it’s nearly two thousand years.

I remember Alexandria. Wait, no that’s not right. The last time I recall sensing magic was in the Middle Ages. I didn’t suspect that it’d be the last time I see someone cast a spell. It isn’t been a good, nor a very successful one, more of a petty attempt to hide money.  The man, some filthy carney, speaks the words sloppily, as if not knowing what they meant.

I was disgusted by his attempt- such poorly woven multiplying spell grafted upon a basic privacy charm. I think he tried to equally multiply and to hide his money,  but it backfired on him. Badly. That’s what happens, if you pour fresh pigeon blood over Mandragora roots and mermaid scales, before allowing the full moon to shine upon the ingredients. A spell is like a plant, you can’t just put one on top of the other, you have to wait, so they can grow together. Magic is a living thing, having its own will and its own needs. I’ve always thought Romanies had good instincts for the cycles of nature, and for magic. Obviously not this one…

The spell made his silhouette look like a huge burning shadow. That was before leaving his circus caravan and being mauled to death by two horrified wolf dogs . The man had some hilarious last words: “Not dying, abracadabra.”

If I had known, that this was the last magic user, I would have done something about that spell going wrong.

Then for a time I’ve been following some promising individuals around, alchemists, illusionists and also some scary looking old women. Despite the public opinion, they had not an ounce magic on them. I tried children next. Nothing. You cannot imagine how boring things get, without magic. My last straw were the black cats. Cats always have something peculiar about them, but nothing magical, to my disappointment.

I thought about meddling with the tides of magic, crossing the paths of darkness and light. What I got out of the equation was: war. Don’t get me wrong, I got nothing against some human tears, blood, and despair, but it’s only a cheap substitute. Nothing tastes like magic. Nothing else is able to satisfy my appetite. I have tried everything else.

the experiment

content warning

I got you a blanket, so you won’t freeze.“ Steve smiles and hands Tom a grey woolen cover.

Already half undressed, Tom furrows his brows. He stops mid motion, shoe laces around his fingers. „It looks scratchy. I’m hungry, and it’s freezing.“ He looks at Steve’s face and stops again, irked. „Don’t stare like that!

Like what?

Like I was a piece of cherry pie. Stop that. It’s awkward.

The blanket flies to the autopsy table. „I just can’t please you, huh?“ Steve smirks. „When did you eat the last time?

Six hours ago. As you told me to. I’m hungry. When this is done, you owe me! Not only dinners and lunches and lots of roast beef! And steak. You owe me big time.“ He throws his left shoe to the door. „And roast potatoes. Oh, and pizza. See? Goosepimply. All over. God! Tell me, everything’s going to be okay.

It’s going to be okay.

Everything prepared?“ Tom swings himself onto the autopsy table uneasy. Looking around in the morgue increases his doubt by the second. Steve can’t let him doubt the experiment. He is the most important subject to this experiment. He is the only subject.

The table seems to be really cold, he shivers slightly and folds his hands over his bare chest. Suddenly his gesture seems inappropriate to himself and he changes posture, forcing his hands down.

Steve pats his shoulder. „No need to be nervous. You remember everything?

Yeah… Why did I let you talk me into this? Tell me again. When did I say yes to this?

Hey! Are you going to be a sissy about this? We are pioneers. Our names will go down in history! We’re gonna be famous! Stars!

It didn’t help. Tom looks unconvinced. „Relax buddy, I checked the defibrillator twice. We talked about this, remember? I got you a doctor on stand by. Decker is just a door away, waiting for my call. He’s on duty today.

Who? Decker? You mean dickweed Decker? Are you kidding me?“ Tom sits up, all tense pulling the ECG electrodes off of his chest. He starts shaking his head in disbelief. „Are we talking about your medical backup? I mean, MY backup? Please Steve, say you are joking.

Steve rolls his eyes. „Why? He IS a doctor.

„-And an idiot! He wouldn’t find my heart, even if it crawled out of my chest and tried to bite him! Steve, I got a bad feeling.“ Tom’s pleading eyes lock on Steve’s face just for a moment too long. He can’t stand the look and turns away.

“Don’t say, you are backing out on me. Not now, Tom! Not now!” The words get pushed through gritting teeth. They dissolve into the strained silence around them. 

“Are you listening to yourself? Do you know, what you demand from me?” Tom buries his face in his hands. “You ask me to die!”

“No. Technically not!” Steve nods. “Okay. Okay! I know. I know. Sorry, sometimes I am a real jerk,”he pauses. He has to very careful now. His only test subject is about to scrub everything. Everything he worked so hard for, all the money he bribed Dickweed with, for nothing? Actually, it isn’t necessary… For a moment he ponders, he could force Tom into this, all he needs is chloroform, or laughing gas, and a  plastic bag… When the crunch comes, he’ll knock Tom out, and do what is needed to be done. It would be way better though, if he does it voluntarily. “You will not die. I promise! It’s only coma. We discussed this, remember?” He throws a look at Tom. He sighs with relief, he caught him, and now he just reels him in. “Don’t you think I’m nervous too? Nothing will go wrong. People lived through these things.” He swipes  his hand above the monitors,”and now we have the chance to prove the existence of the soul, and it’s capability to detach from the physical body.” Tom looks at his toes, and nods slowly. “Now lets get you some iv accesses, and the dream juice flowing.”

Steve knows better, than to look at his best friend. The crushing trick his face makes, the hurt radiating from his eyes, the disappointment, Steve isn’t able to take that in. He knows it. He needs to focus, this is too important to be tainted with mixed feelings.

Tom surrenders, with a soft, barely audible sigh. 

Out of the Carnival and the Soul

a Chuck Wendig prompt (202 words) - here

“Pablo? Wake up, you’re gonna be late again.”

Only one person says my name like that. That soft, honey like sound, the smile at the end of the sentence. She always used her smile as punctuation.

So thirsty…

My love is gone, and I’m alone with a big ass hangover, sprawled on the couch. “Gimme five more,” I mumble out of habit, only five more minutes…Damn Carnival, I drank enough to pass out.  How did I make it back then?

I try to remember her scent and pretend I can reach out, and touch her hand, to hear her breathe. Maria…

But she’s gone.

Forever.

Killed.

I had the strangest dream. I have made a bargain with an old gipsy last night. My smile and my soul for another body and soul. I still hear the old man laughing his head off…

“Come on, hon.” The couch moves, a weight shifts to hoover over mine. Fingertips  and a brush of coconut scented hair brush my cheek? What? “Did I scare you?” I… I can’t believe it!

“Maria… How?” She’s here? Her warmths under my palm, her face… It’s real!

“Oh, sleepyhead. It was just a bad dream.”

 

green humid hell

chewing this piece over, changing POV. You like it?
also content warning, language slipping

Howard took a big gulp and pulled a grimace, eying the bootle in disbelief. The beer tasted like lukewarm navel lint, already…

The mosquitoes kept singing the most annoying siren song of the jungle. Feet on the handrail of the porch, the man gazed down the only road in proximity. Well, it wasn’t an actual a road, more a beaten track ending behind their guest house.

The seven houses huddling together, barely merited  the name village.

It was the smallest he ever saw. The town hall was also the local dive. People were pragmatic, no doubt about that. To south the border  was the river, to north the jungle. In fact, the jungle was everywhere. The white plastic chair trembled and creaked as he shifted his weight.

Every now and then some children, or dogs, or men, or pigs passed the porch, not taking notice of him being bored. And the only thing Howard hated more than being bored, was being ignored.

He saw a black and white spotted pig not noticing him, so he threw his nearly empty bottle at it. And missed, with more than three feet. The noise of bursting glass made the pig stop and look both ways. Nothing threatening, it grunted irritated and strutted down the track.

„Gguuh!“ Howard roared, punching the air around him. „How the hell do people cool themselves here!“ Nick poked his head from the house.

„Said something?“ Howard turned, shifted his weight to balance on two hind legs of the chair. He looked up with most elaborate puppy-eyes-technique he could manage. His fingers clenched desperately into the fabric of Nick’s T-shirt.

„Please! I just feel it…“ He rasped theatrically. „I’m dying.“ Nick rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth. „It’s killing me!”

„Just take a bath, Howy, like everybody else. ’N quit your yapping.“ Howard uncurled his fingers with a sly grin. His chair flopped back to stand on all of its legs.

„My favorite cryptozoologist! I’m melting, and your only advice is to take a bath, which is potentially dangerous to deadly. Is that all you have to say to save my life?“

“Don’t get on my nerves! I’m busy cleaning up your mess.” Nick shook his head in disbelief. He turned on a heel stomped back inside.

“Which one?” Howard called after him. 

The Stain

It even threw my shadow in front of me. „Don’t look back!“ I told myself. Whatever that was, I mustn’t look back.

My fingers stretched forward. Finally I could feel and grab a piece of rectangular wood and carpet. The open door! I had reached it! The strange glow faded rapidly.

I pulled myself up, clutching at the doorframe. Clouds of breath vapor puffed fast into the darkness of the house. „Stand up!“ I commandeered myself. My bad knee throbbed, it wouldn’t stretch properly. But I got up, anyway.

The wind had blown in enough snow, that it blocked the door, no thought on moving it. I propped my back against the hallway wall, swept off the framed family photo. My numbed muscles didn’t move. I reached after it, but was too slow. It fell to the ground.

The sound of shattered glass ripped the silence. No! Curled fingers hovered over broken Maria and Amy. Too late. Again! They gazed up to me, their eyes pierced me between the cracks in the glass. I felt pinned in place. They kept smiling happily. That smile… They were my last link to a better world, to a good and bright place, where things worked out just fine. Hadn’t I atoned? How much longer?

Something cracked. Their smiles tortured me, mocked me… But that wasn’t their fault, not at all… Only mine alone.

The shape of my daughter fogged up in the entrance. She materialized straight from the white wind gusts. Someone inhaled sharply. Everything was right again, back to normal, back to perfect. It was the little girl I saw earlier through the window. She was my Amy again.

Daddy?“ She stood in the doorway, scared. A betrayed expression crawled over her face. As if I had taken her favorite plushy away, and have been waving it in front of her, out of reach. „Daddy? Are you mad?“ Her wary words trembled over to me. She was honestly hurt, and about to cry. I knew that face, the way her chin and lower lip quivered.

What are you?“ I shouted, not sure I wanted to know. „What the hell are you?“ There was no answer to that. No answer she could give. Amy held her arms out, wanted me to pick her up. I was a real jerk, asking such stupid questions. How cruel from me, showing her my fear and hate — to a child! When did I start venting on my child? What was wrong with me? I’d never do that, at least I thought I’d never do that.

But she wasn’t my baby girl, was she?

She was something else. But did that make her less of a child? Amy grimaced, big tears formed clinging to her lashes. No. She was a nearly my baby girl. I knew, if she started crying, she wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d get those red spots all over her face and neck and hands, and she’d keep sobbing for hours. Like her mommy used to, when she got upset.

Daddy? Up! Up, up.“ She demanded a bit more urgent. „Pwease?“ I took a step forward to her. Couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to. „Pweeeease?“ Come on, old man, pull yourself together!

Are you… Amy?“ I asked carefully. Say something else! She nodded so eagerly, that her beanie almost came down. How strange… My hands shook, my knees almost gave out under me. Where did this feeling come from? A warmness spread from my navel to my back, leaving me without strength. She beamed up at me with her dark eyes. They glowed with a soft fire. „Are you really my baby girl?

Mhm.“ She smiled wholeheartedly. She believed it. I was her father. I wanted to believe it too.

That was crazy! But she was so real. On my doorstep, she stood there, wanting to be held. Like any other little girl would want to be held by her daddy.

Amy from the photos wasn’t here, Maria wasn’t here either. My wife would think I was crazy… And maybe I was. Even considering something this twisted…

I kept thinking, that I had gotten a second chance. That this time, everything was going to be okay. I’d take good care of her, I’d protect her, no matter what. I surprised myself by taking another step forward.

Should I hold back? Should I run? Where to? And why? I didn’t wanted to. Not anymore… I let my body do, what it longed for. I picked Amy up. She had the same weight, as the last time I held her.

My Amy! My other Amy, my second Amy. Her innocent child smell hit me. Crayons, cookies and strawberries. I’d never want to miss that again. My knees trembled a bit, butterflies fluttered in my stomach. This time I was going to be a proper father.

Are you hungry, baby?“ She nodded and sighed with relief. „What do you want to eat?“ There had to be pancakes dough somewhere in the cupboards. „I can make us some pancakes with syrup and chocolate chips. How’d you like that?

She hugged my neck and gave me a big wet smooch on my cheek. „You’re the bestest daddy in the woods.“ I smiled.

Something bright and warm whirled in my chest. 

I — I thought, this time…

I could be happy.