Writing

Image source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/67407148@N02/25526356158 The forest whispers.  It will whisper to anyone who hears it, which is, in truth, very few. Its branches will bend down, and the leaves will move, and you will learn things for which there are no words, secrets that you can never use. Still, it is worth a peek, these twisting woods, with their oddly yielding ground and the tremors left in your wake.  The…

My eyes snapped open. It was dead silent, and I could hear only my heart racing. Darkness loomed outside. A hint of moonlight peeked through my window, a hint of the light landing on my pale face. The darkness all around me was engulfing, suffocating, and I couldn't breathe.  I knew I had been through another one of my blackouts, the ones which happen at the queerest of times,…

Forty-two kilometers.  That’s not that much.  No, it is that much.  But I can’t back up.  I walk up to the white line that marks the start of the soon-to-come run. To the left and right, 61 men, already sweaty and pumped from their warm-up run, kick and punch the air, signaling their bodies to get ready for the most important run of the century. In German, the black…

The Summer of Strawberry Pound Cake The grass beneath you feels like fur, softly grazing your back and tickling your arm as you lay on the ground with your best friend.  You’ve been looking at her for a long time. Your eyes trace over her golden brown locks, her sun-kissed freckled face, her cherry blossom pink-tinted cheek, and finally, to her plump glossy rouge lip.  You feel adrenaline rush…

How did I end up here? Violent wind tangles Enzo’s already tousled hair turning it into a dark mesh of wayward strands. He blinks and tries to make sense of a foreign weight on his face. Has he been to a masquerade? No, it’s too heavy to be a carnival one. A gas mask. Why is he wearing a gas mask? The fog on the goggles clears a bit,…

https://www.maxpixel.net/Archaeological-Site-Columnar-Ruins-Ancient-3752038Archaeological Site Columnar Ruins Ancient The ruins talk. You can hear the echoes of ancient knights in their noises, never a language, but something universally understood: laughter, snarling, taunting, and if that doesn’t get the message across, their tone communicates everything you need to know. You hear the echoes of their past grandeur, every single rock glued into a tall and imposing structure the likes of which you cannot…

He’s walking along the sidewalk. Liam stands on the other side of the road, curiously gazing at him with green eyes, the same green eyes he possesses.  He doesn’t see Liam. But he hears Liam’s laughter, echoing through the air, ringing like churchbells he heard a long, long time ago. “Mark Coleman?” the lady from the front desk was watching him intently, and seeing as he looked up, smiled…

Adele Renault : Pigeon Portrait https://www.thisiscolossal.com/2015/11/camp-the-pigeon-oil-paintings-adele-renault/ A Pigeon Crouches on The windowsill Scheming something bad With its eyes half shut and Gleaming like a fire from Enferno, like the lord of underworld goaded him to perch on my window and to  find out my deepest crux

by Lennart Whittstock First ignore their grotesque limbs, with odd proportions twisting in ways that should be impossible, fingers uncountable but somewhere around five, probably, shrinking and growing and long and sharp. Ignore their hooked elbow-like structures always changing, ever-changing, do not watch their shoulders melded into the right sockets and ignore the ripped flesh a little bit lower, like something misplaced.  Second do not look at their faces,…