Janus

I can’t stop myself from looking at him – snow white skin, hair, dark as chocolate, topaz eyes borrowed from a bird of prey, soft lips, bowed in a mischievous arch – vibrant memories, which won’t  let me sleep, won’t let me close my eyes. Even if I do, I’ll open them up, asap. Feeling his breath, his gaze peeled to whatever there is to be to be noticed in my face.

Even in the darkness of the room, drawn curtains, and the half moon shining… Even in the solid black mist his eyes seems to glow in that strange orange golden light. He seems to emit it, his faces, his mouthes, his shiny teeth… All screaming curiosity.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I´ve never seen someone fall asleep before.”

“What? Never? Why?”

“I never sleep. So I’m curious.”

“Suit yourself.” Indeed, I’m exhausted, and ´bout to fall asleep. “So you never sleep, hm? Do you – ever dream?” My lips move lazily. The bed sheets still hot and messed up. Feeling heavy on my skin.

“Yes. But mine are different from yours. I do not lose myself doing so.” His voice softens, moves closer somewhere near my left temple. “And when you’ll lose yourself, you’ll be empty – a living, breathing hollow shell. Just waiting.” His voice sounds now like a whisper, moves suddenly from my left to the right ear… Of course -forgot- two mouthes. Two tongues. Strangely, they sound the same.

Can’t open my eyes, sleep burns inside of them. It is a soft warm black, that keeps dripping, dissolving into my mind. “Mhm. What for?” Words drop out hazily, I just breathe them out.

“For me, to do as I please… Shhh, now. Go back to sleep…”

orange

orange

With a low growl she pushes me away, as I try to kiss her. She turns her head.

Just breathe in. Fine! Still angry! Whatever.

I seat myself, in one of those rattan chairs waiting for customers outside the Cafe. “Ah, the sunshine! So nice. I’m fed up with winter. And it’s not only me. The birds are going crazy, specially blackbirds. One of them tried to give me a haircut, flying by. I had to duck.” It really is warm enough to enjoy the sun and the blue sky. “Why are we meeting here again? I had lunch cooked… You know. At least you could have told me earlier.”

“Mmmhm…” She hasn’t ordered anything till now? Waiting isn’t her forte. I wonder… She looks absently to the passers by. Maybe it is something more than the usual trouble. “Now what’s with those coffees?!” Rhetorical. How should I know? She sounds impatiently. Oh, so she did order then. After a nightshifts she’s usually grumpy – caffeine makes her bearable… No scenes in public, she’s not doing that. Neither do I, which may be the perk of meeting here, I guess. Waiter is nowhere to be seen. Her fingers drum on the table.

“I don’t know, maybe the waiter just borded a plane to Brasilia for those beans…” A cheap one, I admit. Well, she’s not relaxing. Neither do I. I don’t need this…

We have issues.

Yes, we both know it. Our relation is – how do I put it – dying. Slowly dissolving into the daily routines of both of us. At least we’d don’t have to talk about it… Here. “You know, something weird happened today. I don’t think you will believe me. Hell, not even I believe it. But it happened.”

She looks at me with that expression on her face, saying “Try me”.

“On my way here, I encountered a group of odd-looking orange man. I parked, and got out of the car. But then, a black van pulled over. The tailgate flew open, and a lot of orange men spilled out. ´Bout twenty, I guess. All dressed in orange, from head to toe. I first thought, this was a – donno – happening, some weird art, an add or simply a prank. But the orange men ran up to every one walking on the street. One of them tugged my hand and scratched me with something on the back of my hand. Here. It stung. See? It left a little mark there, it even bled. I don’t know what it was. He just smiled and said – ‘You’re welcome.’ What do you make of that?! And then, they all ran back to that van and jumped in. The car drove off with screeching tires.”

“Right. I don’t believe it.” She’s pale. “You making this up. Stop with your stories! All lies. All LIES.” She glares now at me.

“What? NO! What lies? I’m not a liar! I’m a writer! I live with stories, they pay the rent and your clothes and food. And this one is true.” I protest. It is true. “God! What’s up with you anyway?”

She looks at me dead serious. “I’ve read the one you left on your desk…” What does she means? I don’t let stuff lie around. Usually…

“It’s about me, isn’t it? That’s why you left it lying around. For me to find it! Since when did you know? Tell me! And you kept silent. For what? If you knew bout me and Andy, why not fighting for us?!”

“What…?” Confused, I try to understand. I swallow. “What did you just say?” Barely audible question. This hurts. It’s not fair. No, it wasn’t a question. I’ve got to sort things out. I’m not staying. Not making a scene, eh? What a fucking joke. “…Why?” No I don’t want to hear an answer. Just go. Go. GO.

I try not to bump into everyone.

The black van pulls up again. It slows down, to match my walking speed. “So… How did you like that luck-infusion? You’re welcome,” grins the man in orange, from the passenger seat. “You know, things we need are not equal to those we want. Now have a good day, sir. Try not to waste the rest of it. It wears off easily, if wasted.” He smiles.

professional

professional

He looked at the photo closely. His thumb felt the glossy surface of the printed paper. Black and white. Actually this was the photo of a drawing.

The table was a mess. Coffe in different cups, different blends of age, vaporizing ever so slowly. The ashtray looked overcharged. Smoking can kill you- yes it can. The lack of it too…

Continue reading “professional”

turn here

turn here

“Hold onto someth-” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

The car skids round the corner with screeching tires. I already have my fingers digging deep into the backseat, but my head thuds against the window anyway.

He’s checking the rearview mirror. I’m not happy. And it’s written all over my face. I just keep my mouth shut, cause I’m grateful to the man who just saved my ass. No comments on his driving.

He floors the accelerator. I rub my head. “It’s going to be a lump” I state.

“Well, dude… That’s your smallest problem.” He grins and throws my wallet on the backseat.

“How did you get hold of it?” I wonder. I don’t remember that he could have swiped it… I look baffled to the mirror, but doesn’t look back, nor does he bother to answer. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

“So… What do you have in your bag, that is so important?” He asks with a low rumble in his voice. What  have I gotten myself into again?

“Nothing!”

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll find it out by myself,” he laughs a throaty laugh. And it’s not benign. I grab my bag tight and lock my arms around it. “I´m just curious”, he tries.

“Curious, my ass!” I spit. Now he’s bursting into honest laughter, slowing the car down to normal speed.

“You hungry? I know a great place!”

jelly fish love

jelly fish love

 Secretly, I hoped for this. Chance to see the jelly fish. Well, not like this… I hoped for this, but differently…

No, not my dive head first into the Moon jelly fish tank. That was an accident.

I slipped, I swear. I was supposed to check the filters. Thank god, there aren’t any costumers watching. They’d be laughing their heads off. I’d be probably too, if I wasn’t the loser taking a swim.

Lucky me, I did not fall into the Nomura’s jelly fish tank, or lion’s mane jelly fish tank. I’d be fucked. Painfully. Maybe lethally. The Moon jelly stings a bit though…

The current in the Kreisel tank is swift, I won’t be able to swim all night.

Now how do I get myself outta here?

snake magic

snake magic

It´s been some decades now… Since things started to be calamitous and sinister. At first, she did not understand what happened.

One early morning in June she woke to the  terrified screams of her husband. Why was he yelling like that? Was he in pain? That cursed morning she was still too sleepy to get her brain working. Horrified, he clawed at the lamp on the nightstand and hit her with it. He tried to blow her head with it…

Why did he tried to kill her?

Becoming furious, she hissed at him, she spun around to face him -then she saw it! In the mirror of their bedroom…

There was her husband, and instead of her, a huge black snake. She shrieked at her own reflection, but the sound she made peaked into a low dangerous hiss.

Woken up from the screams her oldest son ran into the room. Her five years old lovely son dashed in – moved directly between both of them. He was so fast, came up too close to her.

That blasted moment.

If she could cry, she would. She closed her eyes, that was the closest to human crying a snake could manage… Her nictitating membranes squeezed each a little droplet out.

And there it happened. It has been all reflex. She couldn’t stop herself.

She bit.

She killed her own son.

He died.

He died fast.

She knew, that there was no way anyone could save him. His  little body was too weak for her poison. She didn’t mean to… The only thing there was left for her to do, was to stay with him. She didn’t let anyone come close to him. Not even her husband.

A mother has to look in the eyes of her child. She has to… So she’d never forget, how death looks like.

She waited. Uncapable to do  any good for anyone she loved, she had to leave.

She managed  not to kill anyone else in her family. She managed to leave the mansion without meeting anyone else. She managed  not to kill cattle, nor chicken, nor ducks, nor goats. She had to get out and leave everything behind.

She had to be a snake now.

She slipped out of  her hole, and  searched for a sunny spot. The sun has always been friendly to her.

And from humans, she kept away, as long as possible. But they kept coming at her.

 

sockfairies

sockfairies

“Traditions define us! Loyalty means something to me. Even if it is just a word to you!” I say. Let’s be honest- I’m old fashioned. Restrain. Nothing but complains tonight. Anyway.

“This isn’t what I asked for, Ira!”

I roll my eyes. Still. I can’t be angry with her. This time I cannot give her what she wants. It is impossible. Even if this is our hundredth discussion. “I’d give my head on a plate. But don’t claim that. Please! Please…” She can be as annoying as a hungry puppy, while I’m eating a steak. “I told you. I can’t get you that! I do not have the autorisation for that! And I told you.” That can’t be helped. “I’m doing more than just risk my job for you. You know, what will happen, if they catch me. Getting fired is the most pleasant thing, that they could do to me.”

“I DON’T CARE!”

What?! She really said it… “I’m sorry, Ira. I didn’t mean to…”

“You did.” It hurts. Like swallowing glass shards. I forgot. Natasha is… Natasha. I knew she chose me for a reason, and stays with me as long as I serve her purposes. And I know she’s not in love, or anything. I don’t need her to… I’ve got enough for both of us. It will be good – for a while.

Maybe I… I. No. I don’t even know her real name. She lets me call her Natasha. When we first met, in ‘Roadrunner’, a night club, she was sitting at the bar, staring into her Martini. Not looking  for company, not interested at all. I was drunk and pretentious. I said, she looked like a ‘Natasha’. So she stuck with it. I don’t know, why she didn’t punch me in the face, for being such an ass.

She made it clear. The first night we spent together. She’s a stray. She doesn’t belong to anyone. Only to herself. Sweet Natasha. Her big  brown eyes burning with madness, or anger, or sex. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference. Her wonderfully soft lips, speaking those words with such cold cruelty. The clicking of her teeth, her jaw muscles working under the skin of her cheeks. She fought for those words. She fought herself. I fell for her, that night.

As the weeks passed, she showed her gratitude… In different ways. And it meant more to me, than I ever could imagine. More, than I wanted them to mean to me. So here I am. Living with a stray woman, who needs things… Things I can supply her with.

“Come on, Ira. I’m sorry. I really am! You know that. Come on. Look at me, darling. Please forgive me! You know I’ve got temper. I don’t want you to get hurt. My mouth was faster than my brain. Forgive me.” She smiles sad.

I smile back at her. “I’ll just say, that it was the sockfairies…”

“I’ll be there. To pick you up,” she promises.

But I know she’ll be gone. Maybe by morning. Maybe tomorrow, or next week…