El Duende Pt 3/3

El Duende Pt 3.jpg

Part 1 Part 2

The war was over. La Republica had lost. Repression had once again taken control of Spain.

Pedro and Lola hid in a cave far into the woods. They had brought Pedro’s hunting rifle, his father’s shotgun, ammunition and some food. Not much more.

They knew about this cave from before. It was an old abandoned gypsy cave, quite a cosy place under other circumstances. A wooden door in the entrance, and a small window in the earth wall.

Five men came. Two of them had uniforms of the Guardia Civil, the other three seemed to be peasants. They were looking for Pedro and Lola. They were moving up towards the cave, slowly, from tree to tree, from rock to rock. They seemed to know where they were hiding.

A bird flew down from one of the trees, landed in the bushes and disappeared.

Pedro took position at the door, Lola in the window. The men came closer. They loaded their guns.

Don’t shoot yet, whispered Pedro. I want to speak to them. Maybe we can get to some kind of agreement.

Lola held the rifle to her shoulder, looking firmly through the sight. They will not bargain, mi amor. If we surrender we are dead.

The five men kept moving closer, signalling between themselves with their hands.

One of them started screaming. Aaaaaahh! A snake! A snake bit me!

They stopped for a moment. Silence. Only the bitten man’s moans could be heard.

Another man started screaming. Bitten as well.

It’s crawling with snakes!

Lola fired. Hit one of them in the shoulder. The ones still able to fight started shooting, retreating down the way they came from. Pedro could see them moving further down. They seemed to be heading back to town.

Pedro and Lola needed to get out of there fast, they would be back. They got out and ran further into the forest behind the cave. They kept walking up towards the mountains.

That night they slept outside. They had left the food in the cave, and they did not dare to light a fire. They were cold and hungry.

Early in the morning Lola woke up to the sound of Pedro’s voice. From the depths of her dreams, reality slowly came back. A horrible reality she didn’t want.

We need to go.

They kept moving up the forest covered mountains. Walked without pauses, without rest.

At mid day they heard dogs barking. The men had gone to get reinforcements. They were many more now, looking for them.

The dogs were coming closer. They could see them. Behind them they heard men shouting. Pedro and Lola started running. It was difficult in this rough terrain. Spines and branches cut their legs and arms. The dogs were right behind them.

Out of the bushes a rabbit appeared. It ran just in front of the dogs, teasing them. Then it ran off down a dry river lair. The dogs followed. Pedro and Lola climbed up the hill, hid i the bushes. They could see the dogs far below. They were following a deer now, and the men were following the dogs. The rabbit could no longer be seen.

They kept walking up, crossing the high mountains. There were no trees now. The path was steep, and they were tired.

Downwards it was easier, but they were even more visible. All night they walked. In the early morning a man appeared. He had a gun in his hands. For a moment they all froze. Lola held her hand tight around her weapon.

Bonjour! The man said with a friendly smile. Ca va bien?

A French hunter. They were out of Spain.

The man signalled them to follow him. They looked terrible, their clothes were torn. Cuts everywhere. The man knew why they were there, and wanted to help them.

Pedro turned around, looked towards where they had been coming from, as to make sure no one was following. He saw a little man sitting on a stone. A little man with a green hat on his head. The little duende waved, laughing, and jumped down behind the rocks.

A bird flew up and disappeared over the mountains.

https://libcom.org/history/women-spanish-revolution-solidarity

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/spain/11519691/General-Franco-to-be-officially-defined-by-Spain-as-a-dictator.html

https://www.papermasters.com/pans-labyrinth-requiem-spanish-peasant.html

https://www.britannica.com/event/Spanish-Civil-War

https://lizzieeldridge.wordpress.com/2017/04/14/the-second-spanish-republic-and-the-crucifixion-of-goodness/

El Duende Pt 1/3

El Duende.jpg

Pedro opened the door and went out to the barn. He had his goat inside now that winter was coming. He milked it, as he always did, and went back into the house. His father was sitting in front of the fire place, and his mother was in the kitchen.

Here’s the milk, said Pedro, holding the bucket up to give it to his mother.

Put it on the floor, I’ll take care of it, she said and kept on cutting vegetables for the potaje.

He went into the living room to his father. He was sitting reading a book. He was always reading when he wasn’t working. Pedro sat down on the old bench beside him.

The goat is old, he said. We’ll soon need another.

There is no money, hijo. How will we get a new goat with no money?

Pedro said nothing for a while.

New times are coming, Padre. We’ll soon be better off.

A year after news came to the little village. The king had left the country. The second republic had been established. Times really were changing.

Lola was a peasant’s daughter, from a village nearby. She and Pedro met on a village party, she was there with her cousin. She was the most beautiful thing Pedro had ever seen. Less than a year after they got married.

They lived with Pedro’s parents, and loved each other deeply. Pedro got a job as the shoemaker’s assistant, and soon he could afford a new goat for his family.

The next years old landlords were loosing land to the poor peasants. People were less hungry each day. It was a time of hope, but there was also violence.

One day Pedro went out to the barn, as he used to. There was a full bucket of milk under the goat. It had had milked itself. Yes, all by itself.

Lola! Cariño! Come! Look at this!

Lola came running. Pedro was pointing excitedly at the full bucket on the floor

Look! Look!

She had a confused expression on her face.

So you milked the goat… Like you do every day..?

That’s just it! I didn’t milk the goat! It milked itself!

She looked at him for a moment. Then she started laughing.

Hahaha! Milked itself…. Hahaha! ¡Que graciosos eres!

She left, still laughing.

A creature was watching him from a pole in the ceiling. A little man, with pointy ears and a little green hat on his head. Pedro lifted his head. For a moment their eyes met. The little man seemed to be laughing. He turned into a bird and flew out of a hole in the wall.

Pedro rubbed his eyes. Strange things were happening today, he didn’t know what to believe. He went out through the door.

Down the road people were shouting. He walked down the road to see, faster and faster until he was almost running.

Three bodies had been found in a field, executed in the darkness of the night.

https://unklethan.wordpress.com/2014/06/26/requiem-por-un-campesino-espanol/#more-599

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duende_%28mythology%29

Nightmares of Cambodia

Revive Pt 1/2

Revive

Freakinstone was a scientist, and he was crazy. Good old spickedly mad, as they said in the village. After the great destruction, science was still evolving, but at a personal level, like in the old days. He had learned from his father, and he had access to a lot of old technology from the great metal disposal area close to his old castle.

He used electronic devices to get dead things to life. A mix of chords and circuits of copper and liquid biochemical substances had already gotten several species back from death.

He’d started out with a beetle. Insects were easier, their cells seemed to regenerate faster, and there were more cells that were expendable. The battery assured energy. He pushed the little button. It didn’t move, just lay there. He had to have done something wrong. Somewhere in his calculations there had to be some kind of failure. He picked up his papers when he saw a movement in the corner of his eye. He stopped. Stared. Did the little creep move a leg?

It happened again, now he saw it clearly. The insect moved another leg. It started walking.

Success. He had made it. The greatest technological pass ever. He had conquered death.

He had moved on to small reptiles, lizards. They moved around, but were quite clumsy and stupid. He had some control over them as well. The first mouse was a great breakthrough. He needed them fresh, so he killed them himself when the electronics were already attached. They moved around more freely, and even though he had his remote they were harder to control than the reptiles, and much harder than the insects. They had more will somehow, if such thing even existed.

He needed to complete his work. He needed a human. A human for him to control. It would be very practical to have someone to do all the work around here, so he could focus a hundred percent on his science.

He dug up a body from the graveyard. A child, easier to carry. Several nights light could be seen in the tower of his castle. He worked without stopping until it was ready. He turned it on. It started moving a little.

Hello little one! He said, cheerfully. How do you feel?

Ghhehehehennnsnsnam…. A strange gurgling sound came from the recently revived child. It sounded like it was in pain. Horrible pain. It didn’t move. No eye contact. Some shaking was all the movement he could see. This was no human. It was a vegetable. He turned it off, disappointed.

He looked through his papers. The problem was clear. The brain had been too damaged from rot and other processes. He needed a fresh body.

He felt bad, but he would do anything in the name of science. He attached the fresh corps to the information circuits he had made especially for the human brain.

He looked out of the window. The daylight was starting to lighten up the sky. Down at the graveyard the gravedigger had already started working.

He grabbed a knife and left the room.

The gravedigger was always there alone, digging graves. Freakinstone went down, walked slowly towards him.

Ah, Freakinstone! Said the gravedigger. Nice to see you. Could you believe someone dug up a dead body the other day? It was the Jeff and Alice’s kid, who died from a heart failure. Some people are just crazy, aren’t they? They… What’s up? You look strange… What are you doing with that kn… nooo! Aaaahhh!! Help me!!! Ahghhh!

Freakinstone turned the gravedigger’s carriage, poured out the dirt to empty it. He got the dead body into it, and hurried up to his old castle. He had to get started fast, before the body started to rot.

After some hours of work he was ready. He pushed the power button he had placed behind his ear.

The gravedigger made some complaining noises. He opened his eyes. A strange, dead stare. He wanted to get up from the bench.

Hello! He said. I eh… You had an… accident! That’s it, an accident. Now you need to rest. No. No-no-no! You need to stay down and rest!

The gravedigger grabbed him by the throat. Lifted him up. Lay him down on the same bench he had been lying on himself. Choked him to death.

He stood there for a moment. His eyes were blurry, like if the room was full of smoke. Or was it his brain? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight. He felt nothing. Knew nothing. Or at least not much. Some blurry memories, but he wasn’t sure what they was. He wasn’t even sure if he was dead or alive.

He left and headed for the village.

https://tgifrankenstein.wordpress.com/2017/04/16/how-mary-shelley-named-her-antagonist/

https://milliebotreads.wordpress.com/2017/05/26/judging-a-book-by-its-cover-frankenstein/

Hitchhiking (Fear of the unknown)

Ceremony Pt 2/2

Ceremony 2.jpg

I’m so glad you could come, he said. He looked happy. In peace.

Did you do this? I asked him, though I knew. I liked to get a confession before I got started..

Of course. Isn’t it beautiful? Justice, my friend. You of all people should understand.

I looked at the body parts on the wall. This guy was sicker than any criminal I’ve ever found.

You killed an innocent little girl… I said it between my teeth. The anger was rising inside me. Hate.

No one’s innocent, John… No one.

I stood there, waiting for his move. Trying to look as defenceless as I could, so he would underestimate me when he decided to kill me. One of us was going to die tonight. It wasn’t going to be me.

I waited. Nothing happened.

He put his knife on the table. Bad move. A bit too bad. No time to think.

I did this to…

I attacked. Punched him in the face. He fell back, landed on the floor. I grabbed his knife.

You know you’re going to die, right? I said.

No answer. He was just looking at me, as if he wanted it. Maybe that was it. Maybe he wanted me to put him out of his misery. It bothered me. Not much punishment in that. I preferred the ones who begged for mercy. At least I was going to make it painful.

He didn’t scream. Whatever I did he never even moved.

When I had had enough of the torture, I lifted the knife. He looked at me.

Good luck, John, he said. Still smiling, the sick son of a bitch.

I cut his throat. His messed up face was still grinning, yet it looked more sinister now with his face all messed up and the empty, dead eyes, the open wound underneath it.

I needed to get out of there. The cops could be there any moment. Some neighbour might have heard the noise, though it probably was quite usual in this neighbourhood. This would be hard to explain. I turned around, took one last look at the macabre symbol on the wall. The face of the little girl was smiling as well. There was a strange glow from it. I got out of there fast.

Running down the road I felt different. Like I had changed somehow. I still had the same urge for justice, the same urge for avenging anything wrong in this world. I still felt like the good guy of justice I always had considered myself, but I saw things differently now.

Everyone was guilty. Especially the little girls.

https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/evolution-the-self/201402/don-t-confuse-revenge-justice-five-key-differences

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evil

Empathy

Ceremony Pt 1/2

Ceremony Pt1.jpg

I stood in the middle of the room, watching the horrible symbol in front of me. A little girl had been cut to pieces, hung up on the wall in a sinister figure. What was it? Some satanic summoning? A sect of some kind?

I hadn’t seen this symbol before either. Her head was in the centre, her legs and arms made a circle. Her hands and feet were placed outside the circle, making a square. There had been two other murderers following a similar pattern. First a young man. Second a woman. Now a child. Sick. I wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t leave DNA on the scene of the crime. The cops would think it was me.

It wasn’t the first time I had mixed myself up in a crime investigation. The laws were not strict enough. They deserved to suffer and die. I did the sacrifice of being the executer. The torturer.

The first murder I read about in the newspaper. The second I had gotten there before the police. I have my ways. That’s when I had understood the gravity of the situation. The woman had been spread out on the floor in many pieces. Her fingers had been laid out in some ancient letter. I had been studying it for days, trying to find out what it meant, where it came… without luck.

This was worse. The face of the little girl seemed tor have died in horrendous pain and fear. The painstaking cutting of the pieces was… I shivered. This was even worse than I had expected. I got the little bottle out of my pocket, opened it with shaking fingers. I needed to calm down. The whiskey poured down my throat. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough.

Someone had called me at home. It had been a strange phone call. They told me to go here. Why did they want me here? How did they know I was looking for them? Who were these sick bastards?

I took photos. I needed documentation to have something to work on. Experience from my days as a journalist comes in handy when your finding psychos.

Ah, you made it! A voice behind me. I spun around.

A man was standing there. He was about forty years old. He had a white medic coat covered in blood. Literally, I knew it was white only by a small part of the collar. In his right hand he held a knife. The big kind, to cut meat. That wasn’t the scary part.

What really freaked me out was his friendly smile.

To be concluded tomorrow.

https://johndavisfrain.com/2017/06/05/microphone/

https://precinct1313.wordpress.com/2017/05/30/precinct1313s-heroes-from-the-dark-side-rorschach/

Dystopia Pt 1/3

The Old Man who Knew

The Old Man who Knew.jpg

There was a great carpet dwelling above the world. Inside it. Around it. It was conscious, yet not intelligent. Awake, but it did not think. One, a spectre of selves, everywhere and nowhere. No one knew how it worked, not even itself. It was pure observation. It knew, but did not calculate. It felt, but did not care. It was existence. Reality. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The old man sat by the window, looking out on the valley he’d lived in all his life. He knew everything about that valley. Every little rock, every old tree stump. He loved it. The valley was the best place on Earth for him.

He walked out on the porch. Watching the little lake. He knew the little lake. He the kinds of fish swimming in it. He knew how to catch them. He knew how which berries there was in the forest on the other side, which mushrooms he could eat and which ones he could not. He sat down on his old stool, as he had done so many times before.

He knew a lot. He knew how the flowers bloomed at springtime. How the hills exploded in colours in autumn. He knew how it felt to love and he knew the pain of hate. He knew the arouse of glory, the deep sorrow of loss. He knew. He knew a lot.

A cat came by. He knew the cat.

Hello, little cat, he said cheerfully. The cat came to him, stroking itself to his leg.

You’re a friendly little chap, aren’t you! Said the old man. The cat purred, enjoying the old man’s company.

He did not know if the cat was a he or a she, but knew it was not important for him to know. The cat was his friend, and friends were good to have.

He was old now. Very old. He knew life was coming to it’s end, and he wasn’t sad about it. He’d lived. He’d had a rich life, with sorrows and laughs. He wouldn’t have been without any of them. Even the painful ones.

Today he was looking out on the field in front of his house. Something dark was hanging over the grass. Over the trees. And he knew. He knew his time had come, he’d lived for a long time now. And he knew there was nothing to fear. As death came, he closed his eyes and accepted. Time had come.

A little frog opened it’s eyes in a swamp in Amazonas.

https://kavarastories.com/2017/05/31/knowledge-unconsumed/

https://yashmody.wordpress.com/2016/12/26/self-consciousness-vs-self-awareness/

Fate

Aether

Aether

The Void Project was going several times light speed through the emptiness of the Dipole Repeller. A void of emptiness in space. No stars. No galaxies. No matter of any kind.

We’re loosing speed, Captain! First pilot Rebecca Larson was switching switches, pulling levers and pushing buttons all at once. This was bad.

She was of the best pilots of the old solar system. She’d been travelling the galaxy and she had been part of the Andromeda V project, an intergalactic journey of importance.

This was different. They were crossing total emptiness. Not so many centuries ago people had believed in a lot of restrictions. Light speed as an upper limit of velocity was one of them.

They were proving that exploiting the energy of the void was the fastest way of moving man had ever known. The dark energy was inexhaustible. They were accelerating at an enormous rate, literally being sucked through space. Until now.

What? What do you mean we’re loosing speed? That’s impossible. We should be increasing velocity  faster than ever.

I know, but we’re loosing speed. Fast. We’ve…. Stopped.

Captain Naufrago watched the screen in front of his first pilot in disbelief. It was true. The ship didn’t move at all.

We’ve stopped. I can’t believe it. We’ve fucking stopped

There was no way to get a ship started in the extreme emptiness of the void. They were stuck half way through. No one had ever been in more trouble.

C-captain… Said Rebecca. Captain Naufrago looked out of the huge energy field window in front. There was something there. In the total darkness ahead, something was moving. Eyes were staring at them. Eyes big as galaxies. Pupils dark as black holes.

The instruments showed nothing, there was nothing around them at all. Still they could see it. Feel it. It was watching them. Something was there, and it was big. Vast as the universe itself.

Graaaargghhhssssss…

A strange sound of horror. The vessel was vibrating. Sound should be impossible in the total lack of substance they were in, but still, there it was. Darkness. Evil. They knew what it was. It was nothingness. Aether. Where gods could not exist, were souls were devoured by madness.

A hand stretched out towards them. It had fingers impossible to count, claws of unseen dimensions. Terror of depths never known.

It took hold of their ship.

No one spoke. No panic, no intent of defence. There was nothing anyone could do. The walls started crunching in. All hope was lost.

Fire!  Water  Air (Earth)

https://www.nature.com/articles/s41550-016-0036

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aether_(classical_element)

http://hubblesite.org/explore_astronomy/hubbles_universe_unfiltered/blogs/qna-what-fills-the-empty-space-between-galaxies

https://www.forbes.com/sites/bridaineparnell/2017/01/31/dipole-repeller-discovered/#355319d1586ahttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aether_(classical_element)

http://newatlas.com/dipole-repeller-void-pushing-milky-way/47648/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_energyhttps://arxiv.org/pdf/1702.02483.pdf

http://atlasoftheuniverse.com/superc.html

Air (Earth)

Air (Earth).jpg

Ronny was falling. He had a parachute on his back. He loved parachuting. He was going to pull the string quite soon, he just wanted to feel the wind in his face and the sensation of flying a little longer.

Hey!

What the…. Something was talking to him. Just beside his head.

Hey! You! Yes, you!

Who… what…. Who… There really could not be anyone there, he was ten thousand feet up.

You’re fallin’, aren’t you! Said the strange voice with genuine interest.

Where are you?

Right beside you, said the voice. Under you. Even inside you, really!

You are…. Air? Ronny almost had to laugh. This was just silly.

Bingo! I’m what making your clothes move so funnily right now, my friend. Air is the name. At your service!

But how come you talk? I never heard you talk before?

That’s because you didn’t listen. I’m quite a talker really. I shout when the storms throw your boats around, I whisper when the wind makes the leaves move in the trees…

This had to be the biggest discovery in history. But would anyone believe him? This could be his great chance, but he needed proof. Air kept chatting away.

…I even talk on a silent summer day, if you just listened close enough.  I talk a lot! Just ask Earth. There he comes. Hey, Earth! Tell hi…

Aaaaaaaaahsplacrash!!!

Tell him what? Asked Earth. Air was looking at the broken body on the ground.

Nothing. Never mind.

Earth looked at the stain on his skin, frowning in disgust and annoyance.

You talk too much, you know that?

Thanks, but it’s too late now. He can’t hear you.

http://www.thewhitegoddess.co.uk/the_elements/air.asp

https://keerthanagaganna.com/2017/05/31/trace/

Fire!

Do You Want to Know the Future?

Do You Want to Know the Future?.jpg

Today was Saturday, so he had all the day to do whatever he wanted. A fair was in town, so he stopped by it. He went alone. His friends were rather boring and only wanted to stay home and play video games.

He’s walking around, looking. People throwing stuff at tin cans to win stuffed animals. Music from loudspeakers, music from carousels, all mixed in a symphony of noise. Children everywhere, parents trying to keep track of them. Colours. Lights.

An old gypsy-woman comes walking up to him.

Do you want to know the future? Her eyes are glaring. He doesn’t want to know the future, and he definitely does not believe she could tell him. Here! A gift! He doesn’t want the gift, either. Usually they want something in return in his experience. He backs away. She grabs his hand and puts something in it. Be careful!

She disappears into the crowd.

He stood there, looking for her. She was gone. In his hand he held a crystal ball. Round and beautiful, the size of a big marble. It had small facets, plain surfaces, all the same size and form. Inside he could see something move, like if it had life. He peered closer.

He sees himself. He’s running down a slope. He has the same clothes he’s wearing right now. He falls, stays on the ground holding his hands on his leg. It seems to be broken.

This was either some kind of joke, or he just saw the future. He didn’t want that future, but the crystal ball was awesome.

He left the carnival. It had been fun for a while, but now he was tired. He wanted to go home. He wanted to get back to where he was living.

He started walking down the slope towards town, when he realized it was the slope from the vision. The slope he’d seen himself run down, where he’d fall and break his leg.

Haha! I’ve outsmarted you this time, future! He takes another way, crossing the big national road. He’s halfway across when he hears a loud low-frequence motor humming accompanied with a deep beeping sound. He turns. He sees a trailer coming at him at high speed. It’s the last thing he ever sees.

The crystal ball flew out of his hand and landed unharmed in the grass on the other side.

https://10000hoursleft.wordpress.com/2015/05/22/timeline/

https://mindfump.com/2017/03/15/62-oops-turned-into-nostradamus-2/

The End of Days

Ghost Train

Night Train.jpg

Jaques was sitting in the cockpit of the train looking forward. It was late night, and he couldn’t wait to get home. Find a good movie online, and just relax until he fell asleep.

Something strange could be seen in the distance. He stood up. At first he didn’t believe it, these things shouldn’t happen. But it was. Something was coming towards them on the tracks. Another train. It had no lights. He knew it was already too late.

Marie and Jerome had gotten a first class ticket. There was good food, and the seats was comfortable. They were sitting in front of each other. Jerome had gotten the better seat, the one facing the way they were going. An elderly lady was sitting beside him.

Finally! Said Jerome. I needed to get away now.

Me too, smiled Marie. This is going to be the best vacation ever!

Sure is. I love going on trains as well. Such a relaxing and safe way of travelling.

It’s not always safe, said the old woman. Jerome turned towards her. He had to concentrate not to laugh. Strange thing to say out of nowhere.

Why do you say that?

There was an accident here on this track many, many years ago. Said the old woman

Really? Answered Marie, ignoring the ridiculing look Jerome sent her.

Well, they say it wasn’t even an accident. She added.

What happened?

Two trains went opposite directions on the same tracks. They say it was an insurance scam. That the company did it on purpose, and they got away with it, too. Lots of people died.

That’s horrib….

Jerome fell forward. Marie’s food went flying. Suitcases were falling down from the luggage shelves.

Jaques was lying on the brake lever. Trains take a long time to stop. He was sure he was going to die.

Impact.

A man was throwing coal into an oven. His body was strange, like if they were crushed, ripped to pieces and put together again.

Time seemed to stop when Jerome was mid-air. Everything was changed. The wagon. The people. The furniture was older, the seats had leather cover. The walls were made of wood. A man and a woman were sitting in front of him where his girlfriend just had been. The man had a top hat on his head. His head was crushed, skin floating in the airs as textile under water. Bones sticking out. He was smiling. The woman by his side had a white dress. On some parts. One of her thighs could be seen. It was just a bone, broken into pieces.It was a horrible sight.

Reality came back. Like when you get your head out of the silence of the water. Jerome crashed into the seat in front. Marie’s food splashed out on her dress. The woman beside them fell on the floor. She screamed. Her arm was in a strange position, broken.

The train had stopped. Jerome looked over to the rest of the passengers. They were all as confused as him. The lady with the broken arm was moaning. Jerome was helping her up in her seat.

The driver came half falling into the wagon.

Did you see the…? He stopped. Their faces were as white as his. They’d all seen it.

Silence.

I guess we’ll have to get going, Jaques said after a while and went back into the locomotive. The train started slowly. Soon they were going again. No one spoke the rest of the journey.

http://www.everywritersresource.com/shortstories/ghost-train-by-grey-harlowe/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_train_(folklore)

His Grandpa’s Cabin

Like a Drop in the Sea

Like Drops in the Sea.jpg

He was hanging from the tap he had been born out of. Hanging. Hanging. All he ever did was hanging. He liked hanging. He was made for hanging, and he never would stop hanging. He thought.

Underneath him there was… A surface. It seemed to be of the same substance as him, only bigger. So much bigger it seemed to follow other rules. Other ways. He could not imagine this big surface hanging like he did.

He was scared of the surface, but at the same time it intrigued him. He felt an urge to join it. To explore it. What was the Surface? Why was it there? Where did it come from?

He fell. Fell towards the Surface. He met it. Felt an impact. There was something underneath the surface. More of him. There was no longer him and the surface, it was only him. He was the surface, and the surface was him.

Some day he would be part of other drops like the one he was before. He would be steam, he would be ice. Some day he’d be part of the sea.

https://twovoicesinonetransmission.com/2017/04/29/cyanide-soup-for-the-soul/

http://www.mindbodynetwork.com/article/the-number-of-minds-in-the-universe-is-one

Beyond Faith and Reason

 

 

Liquid Ink

liquid ink

After her father died things had gotten worse. Her mother never let her out. Ever. She didn’t go to school. She didn’t have friends. Most of the time she was locked up in her room, like now. Her mother would unlock the door when she needed her.

Her only pleasure was to draw. To paint. The Ink. She wet the paper, as she always did. The contours of a tower took form in the glistening water. She dipped the brush in the ink bottle, took it down on the paper, moving it under the roof and down one wall where the darker areas would be. Then she let the ink flow.

She loved how it moved. It was like it had a life on it’s own, like if she was the spectator. It was magic. The tower came to life.

A girl appeared in the window. She hadn’t even planned for that. A face took form. It was her face. It was her.

Dark shadows floated around her. On the desk. In the air. It stained the walls. The ceiling.

She was sitting by a desk in a room of stone walls. There was nothing else in the room but an old chest. She was gone.

She heard someone crying. A weep of deep, bottomless sorrow, a cry of loss of loved ones and despair. The door was open.

There was a steep, winding stone staircase going down.

It was dark. She walked slowly, following the sound. She saw light coming out from under a door further down. She heard voices. Noises. Someone shouting. She knew that voice. Her mother. She couldn’t tell the words, but knew to whom ever she was shouting at, the words would be hurtful. She passed the door, down the dark staircase.

She kept following the stairs. Another door. This one was open. She saw her father, dead on the bed. Her mother standing besides him with a knife in her hand. Her back towards her. She turned. Looked right at her. She closed the door and ran.

On the bottom of the stairs there was darkness. She heard the crying clearly now. It was her father. She moved slowly, carefully. So much pain. So much sorrow.

Father? She said. Is that you?

Her eyes were adapting. Her father was sitting on the floor. Someone was lying beside him.

Why didn’t you leave, he said. Sadness. Despair.

A light came on. A small flame in an alcohol lamp. She saw herself lying there. She held a rose in her hands. Her throat was cut.

You have to go. Now! His back still towards her.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t move.

He turned. His face was twisted. Tortured.

Run!!! He screamed. She turned. Her mother was there. Floating, like liquid. Changing form. Dark, grey and black forms of evil. Laughing. The forms filled the room.

She ran. She ran down a long hall. The walls were changing. Twisting. She could hear her mother’s evil laughter. Behind her, in front of her. Everywhere. A light. She ran towards it. Another door. It was closing. She threw herself at it.

She fell into the daylight. Turned around, fast, as to defend herself. She saw their house. She was back in the real world, in their yard. The shadows were gone.

Jane? Her mother’s voice from inside the house, upstairs.. She was angry. Jane, where are? I told you to stay in your room! How did you get out, anyway?

She got up and ran without looking back. She never returned.

http://www.kongregate.com/games/TheGameKitchen/the-last-door-chapter-1-the-letter

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ink

Domestic Violence

Alone

Alone.jpg

The Moon was looking down on Earth as she always did. He was different these days. Lights everywhere. New things were orbiting him as well, just like she did. It was nice. It was lonely out there, all she ever had of company was rocks crashing violently into her.

One day a new object moved up from earth. Another satellite, she thought at first, but it was heading straight towards her. It landed softly, unlike like the brutal meteors. In a friendly manner. She’d never known anything like it.

A creature came out. A strange little being in a white suit of some kind. He stepped clumsily down on her. It tickled. Another followed. They jumped happily around with such grace, such beauty. He pinned a stick in her. It stung a little bit, but she didn’t care. He could do what ever he wanted.

After a while they went back into the little metal thing they had arrived in. It started shaking, flames came out of it. It burned her a bit, but she didn’t care about that. She didn’t want them to leave.

No. Please don’t go! Said Moon, but they did not listen. She saw them going back towards Earth, always so blue, green and full of life. How lucky he was, never alone. Maybe one day they would be back. Maybe, if she was lucky, they would even stay.

If she only shone bright enough.

https://www.cnet.com/news/man-in-the-moon-formed-by-magma-not-asteroids-data-shows/

http://www.headstuff.org/2014/07/three-micro-fiction-stories-moon-landing/#prettyPhoto

Humans

Fate

Fate.jpg

He hated crows. They were always picking on him. Literally. His eyes were long gone. They sat on him. Shat on him. Mocked him in his failure of what he was meant to be.

For many years he’d stood there. He’d never moved a toe, he didn’t even have one. He had no possibilities. No hope. The crows were eating his head.

A crow was sitting on his shoulder right now. Nibbling on his neck. Sticking it’s beak into a hole where his ear would have been, pulling out the straws that would have been his brains. That’s when it happened. One of his fingers moved.

After all this years, he moved a finger. He looked at his hand. This was the biggest moment in his existence. His hand shot out, caught the bird by it’s neck. The other crows flew away. They hadn’t expected this.

The crow fell to the ground, his hand connected to it. It was shaking. He saw his arm (yes, with no eyes, that’s how scarecrows with consciousness work), long, glittering in the light, moving like a… snake. It crawled out of the glove. It was a snake. The scarecrow watched as the snake devoured the crow slowly.

He couldn’t move, after all. Stupid thing to believe, anyway. He was a scare crow. Things were better, though. He had a friend.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Destiny

http://www.damncoolpictures.com/2014/04/scary-scarecrow.html

Prophetic Poetry