Best Friends

Best Friends.jpg

Viggo had no friends. He felt lonely. He ate alone, he slept alone, he walked the streets alone. He really wanted to talk to someone, but he was just too shy.

He’d heard bars were good places to meet people, but he had never been to one. He thought he should probably give it a shot.

He ordered a whiskey. He was sitting there, alone. There were other people there as well, but he didn’t dare to speak to any of them. Even the bartender was scary.

If I just get a little bit drunk, maybe I’ll get rid of my social anxiety. He had another. And one more.

…so I’ve had this bar ever since. The conversation was started. Viggo and the bartender were even getting along. This alcohol thing was great, Viggo thought. Now he was talking with a another client as well. “So, where are you from?” If he drank a bit more, maybe he would even dare to talk to a girl.

…You’re an asshole, you know that? You’re a fucking. ah..ash… asshole, that’s what you are… Viggo was quite angry. The bartender seemed to ignore him completely. It pissed him off.

Hey, you shouldn’t be talking like that to… The other client held a hand out as to calm Viggo down.

Fuck yyyyou! Viggo got off his chair. He felt strong, invincible, but his legs didn’t really listen to him, and his eyesight was blurry. Still, he found it necessary to teach this guy a lesson. He sent out a punch towards his face. He missed, spun half a round, and fell on the floor.

That’s it, the bartender said. Lets get this guy out of here. The two men grabbed him by the legs and the shoulders and threw him out in the street. He stayed on the ground, his back supported by some garbage bags.

You assholes, he shouted when the two men went in. You’re some fucking bassstards, you know that? You…

What’s up? A voice beside him. He turned his head slowly. A pink elephant was sitting there watching him.

Those sons of bitches threw me… they fucking jus… threw me…

That’s horrible! The elephant looked chocked. What a vicious thing to do!

It… it is, isn’t it! Viggo was pleasantly surprised of the elephant’s support.

Hey, why don’t you come hang out with me? We can have a great time together.

Viggo was so happy. Someone wanted to hang out with him! They walked down the road together.

We’re going to need some more booze, said the elephant.

Viggo hesitated.

I’m not sure if that’s such a good i…

If we’re going to hang out, we’re going to need some booze. If not, I’m going to have to split.

Viggo didn’t want that. They went into a liquor store.

That one. The elephant was pointing at a bottle with a nice little etiquette. The liquid inside had a beautiful green colour.

They emptied the bottle together, falling from one side of the road to the other, laughing, screaming, breaking windows… you name it. It was great.

I love hanging out with you, man, said the pink elephant. You’re the best pal ever. Viggo felt the same way.

Viggo woke up in a cornfield beside a tractor. There corn was put down by big circles of tractor tracks all over. Viggo’s head hurt, and he didn’t see the pink elephant anywhere. How did he get here? What had happened?

He started walking home. He didn’t remember much, but he knew he’d had a hell of a time last night. The pink elephant was awesome, and he knew exactly where to find him:

Right there on the bottom of the bottle.

http://bookddl.com/bd-comics-mangas/5905-cosmik-rogercbr.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seeing_pink_elephants#History_of_the_euphemism

Existence

Asylum

Asylum

Something is running around in the halls at night. Something’s going through the walls at night. Something’s gonna grab your…

…and how does this make you feel, Garth? Dr Redwood cut him off.

Garth said nothing.

Does it scare you?

No, it doesn’t scare me. It doesn’t scare me at all. His eyes flickered around the room.

Why doesn’t it scare you, Garth? The doctor asked. Don’t you think it’s dangerous? The words came out slow and calm.

It’s dangerous, yes. Very dangerous. Not to me, he added. It’s not dangerous to me. He looked up and peered straight into Dr Redwood’s eyes. Dr redwood didn’t like the glow in them. Slowly he put his finger on the button below his desk.

It’s not me it’s after. It’s not after me at all.

And who is it after, Garth? A long pause. No answer. Is it after someone else?

Garth started giggling. Hihihihihihi… Is it after someone else…. Hihihihihi… He leaned over Dr Redwood’s desk. Someone…. Else….

Dr Redwood pushed the button. Three men dressed in white came running in.

No! Noooo! Garth tried to get away, but they grabbed him. Pushed him to the floor, strapped his hands behind his back.

I don’t want to go! No!

Dr Redwood sat for a while, looking at his paper, making a few notes. Paranoid delusions still the same, or worse. Diagnosis stays the same. A bit further up it said Schizophrenic Paranoid Disorder.

Life went on as usual in the old hospital, but soon other patients started talking about the monster as well.

It’s like an epidemic, said nurse Tracy. They’re all seeing the same things. No wonder, being locked up here for so long.

Well, most of them can’t really be running around in freedom either. The scissor-incident last week…. Carlton got up form the chair. Don’t worry, they’ll probably forget all about the monster soon enough.

He picked up the key set and left the room for the night round. Down the hallway he could hear Garth talking in his room.

Everything OK, Garth? He looked into the little window in the door. Garth was staring at the wall.

Everything’s fine… It’s not me she’s after.

Well, you should get some sleep. You’re keeping everyone awake.

OK, said Garth… I’ll go to sleep now. It’ s not me she’s after….

Carlton closed the hatch. Crazy fuck, he whispered to himself as he walked away, knowing Garth couldn’t hear him.

The lights went out. Now what…? He turned around and headed back towards the nurses’ office.

He heard footsteps behind him, further down the hall.

He could see something. Something moved slowly over the floor. A tall figure.

Who’s there?

It stopped. Turned it’s head. Two beady, red glowing eyes. Carlton wanted to say something, but his mouth got stuck half way open. The creature was coming towards him.

Tracy had just turned on the flash light when Carlton came falling in, slamming the door shut behind him.

A monster! A horrible creature! A… A ghost or something! It came straight at me!

Oh, my… He’s been working here for too long.

Come, sit down. Relax. There’s no such thing as ghosts, you should know that. It was probably just Garth running around.

No… Garth was in his room…. Everyone were in their rooms…

So, so… I’ll see if I can fix the light, it’s probably a blown fuse. She turned around. Something was there. The light from the torch lit up a bloodstained dress, black hair in front of the face. Tracy didn’t move. The dark creature lifted her head. Red staring eyes. Cuts all over.

Doctorrr… Redwoooooddddd…

The flash light fell out of Tracy’s hand. The lights came back on. She fainted and fell to the ground.

Tracy opened her eyes. Dr Redwood was sitting by her side. Carlton was holding her hand.

There we go, said the doctor. Now tell me what happened.

The look in her eyes… So much pain. So much hate… So much hate! so much hate…

What did this… creature look like.?

She was tall… had a dress on. Stained… She had scars all over her face. Wounds. Around the mouth and eyes. And she had some kind of necklace… An amulet with some stone. Tracy started crying. Oh, doctor, it was…

The look on Dr Redwood’s face made her stop. He said nothing, just staring at her with his eyes open. Hands shaking, sweat was running from his forehead.

Are you OK? Suddenly she seemed better off than him.

Er… yes! Ehem… Yes, I’m fine. S-so what did she do?

She… I remember now… She asked for you!

Lights out. Darkness. Someone laughing.

Dr Redwooooooddddd…. I’ve been searching for you…

Who’s there?

Laughter.

Rebecca? Rebecca, is that you? His voice was shaking, trembling.

It was all part of the treatment… I… I never meant to…

Treeeeaaatmmment… of rape… and torture….. The voice sounded amused.

Things got out of hand! He started crying. I’m sorry, Rebecca! I’m sorry!

Sssssoooo am I…. ‘Cause you’re coming with meeeeee… to the deep insanity beyond… Hahahaha….. Hahahahahaha….

The laughter echoed through the halls. They could hear the patients join in, one by one.

…hahhahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HA HA!!!

Silence. The lights came on. Carlton and Tracy looked at each other, then at Dr Redwood.

He was staring into the air with a crazy grin on his face. A twisted, sinister face of madness.

Then he started screaming.

http://www.cchr.org/cchr-reports/psychiatric-rape/introduction.html

https://www.quotev.com/story/5641712/Ghost-Stories/59

Prophetic Poetry

T-birds and Motorcycles

T-birds and Motorcycles

The road lay straight in front of them as far as the eye could see. The rocky desert was vast, and flat except for some scattered hills and small mountains. Sky and earth. It was beautiful.

We camp by the foot of that mountain! Jack shouted to Mario. The rest would follow. They drove off the road, out on the rocky carpet of the desert. They had to go slow, but their bikes would take them there.

They stopped underneath a steep cliff.

Jack looked a the sky. We’ll have shadow here tomorrow morning. We’ll camp here. Mario agreed.

Mario was unofficially second in charge, and a great fire maker. He could find wood for a fire anywhere. Michael got out the cooking pot. , and John started cutting meat and veggies for the stew. They were eight strong men, and quite a bit of food was necessary. Heaps of beer and whiskey, too.

They went to sleep under the stars around the bound fire. Silence. Peace.

Jack woke up. A sound. A scream, like an eagle, but stronger. Deeper.

Mario was already awake, looking out into the desert.

There’s something out there, he said.

I heard it too. What is it?

No answer. The two men sat there, looking out into the darkness.

Something moved in a distance. Something big.

Wake up! The rest of the crew was pulled out of their dreams.

What’s up, man… John was rubbing his eyes.

Another scream. He jumped up.

What the fuck was that?

It came from the other side last time… Jack said. Either it’s very fast or there’s more of them.

Either way it’s bad news. We saw it. Over there. It was big, bigger than a man. A lot bigger. We…

Aaaaahhh!! They turned around, getting their guns out.

What was that?

Michael! He fucking just disappeared! He was right there, behind me! Perky was white as a sheet.

OK, everybody stay calm. Jack was at his best when things got intense. Form a circle, backs to the centre. There’s something out there, and it’s fucking dangerous.

Silence. Waiting. Two gunshots.

It was there! I saw it! It’s huge. It ran behind those rocks! John was pointing with his smoking pistol.

You saw it? What was it?

I don’t know, it’s too dark… It looked like… It looked like a fucking dinosaur, man. A T-Rex or something.

T-Rex? That’s crazy, dinosaurs doesn’t exist.

I don’t know! I’m just telling you what I fucking saw, man!

Aaaaahh!!!

They all spun around. There was nothing there.

Mario? Where the fuck is Mario?

No one said anything.

Mario was gone as well.

Let’s get the hell out of here!

They jumped on their bikes and drove off. Jack was in front. After some hundred meters he realized the lights behind him were gone. He looked over his shoulder. There was no one there. He kept driving. He could see the highway. Just a little bit more…

Something struck him from the side. He was lying on the ground. His back hurt, and so did his arms and legs, but he could move. He got on his feet. A shadow ran past him in the darkness. It ran on two legs, and it was big, double his height.

He turned around. It was staring down at him. It was a bird. A wingless bird bigger than a horse. It’s brutal beak, built to cut meat, to destroy, was bigger than the tank on his bike. And he had a big bike.

He had lost his gun in the fall.

It lifted a foot. Grabbed him by the chest. Claws went into his shoulder and ribs, pushed him down. He didn’t scream, just lied there, looking up on the terror bird. It held it’s head a bit on one side, then on the other. Examining him with both it’s eyes.

The big beak came down fast. He pulled his head to one side. It cut his cheek, but he was still alive. Blood was flowing down on his ear. He felt something by his hand. He grabbed it. His gun.

He pointed it at the bird’s head. Emptied it. Beak splints, blood and feathers. The bird fell dead to the side.

He could hear shrieks. Bird screams coming closer. He got his bike up. Jumped on. Pushing down the pedal once. It didn’t start. Twice. Nothing. He saw them now. Many of them, running straight at him. Third time. Engine sound. He stepped on the pedal. The bike went sliding from side to side and up on the road.

He drove off at high speed and kept driving.

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

http://listosaur.com/science-a-technology/10-animals-once-thought-to-be-mythical-or-extinct/

http://www.doc.govt.nz/nature/native-animals/birds/birds-a-z/takahe/

Mantis Religiosa

Dark Woods

Dark Woods

Finally a new story.

Last week I mentioned a cabin we stopped by in the forest. There’s a lot of cabins in Norway, as you can imagine. It was abounded, and quite a few things were lying around. There were some black hand marks on the wall beside the chimney, and underneath the cottage I found a newspaper from 1978. The front page spoke about the police investigating a couple of priests who had taken part in an exorcism. The subject, a young woman, had been through four others intents before that one, by other people. When we left the place two ravens was flying between the trees a bit further away. So far it’s all true.

We went up the path. We could not see the ravens any more, but we could hear their screams deeper into the woods.

We walked for quite a while. Too long, really.

We should be to the car by now, said Johnny. It wasn’t that far away.

They walked a little further.

We’re not getting anywhere.

I guess we’ll have to turn back, said Jess. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. She took her phone out. No coverage.

They walked back for a while. A long while.

They heard the two ravens again. They were closer now.

Another scream. Different. Almost… Human.

Jessica shivered. What was that?

I have no idea. We should have been back to the cabin by now… Johnny was looking up at the sky. It was getting darker.

We need to get out of here. It’s getting late. She was looking at her phone, trying to find get contact. Nothing.

It was getting cold, too. They weren’t prepared to stay out at night. They saw a light between the trees. Look! They walked off the path, through the woods.

It was the same cabin. There was a light in the window.

We need to go see who’s there. Maybe they can tell us how to get back.

They went over, and up the stairs. The door was open. Hello? Said Johnny. Is there anybody here?

No answer. He stepped over the threshold.

Johnny, be careful!

He stopped for a moment. Listened. He could hear the burning sound from the chimney. The ravens scream between the trees nearby. Come on, there’s a fire. I’m freezing.

Inside the fire was burning vivid. Twelve lit black candles. There were a lot more black marks on the walls than before.

They walked over to the fireplace, held their hands up to the fire. Jessica looked over her shoulder. She didn’t feel good about this at all. On the wall the black marks had spread. Letters could be seen.

DIE.

She touched johnny’s shoulder, breathing heavily. Johnny turned around. Oh my god, he said. Oh my god. We need to get the fuck out of here.

A woman was standing in the door..

Pale face. The back dress of a widow.

Then she was gone.

Did you see that? Said Jessica. Johnny was as white as the woman.

Yes. Come on!
They ran out, into the forest. Through the darkness. Ravens screaming, and an other voice. Laughing. Vailing. Ravens laughing and screaming.

Jessica stopped.

Johnny? No answer. Johnny, where are you? Her voice was shaking.

A voice further ahead. Johnny! She ran towards the sound. She was back at the cabin. The light was burning vivid in the windows.

Inside the cabin Johnny’s voice was pleading for mercy.

Leave him alone! She leaped up the stairs. Got in the door. There was no one there. The candles. The fire. The writing on the wall.

The door slammed shut behind her. The lights went out.

A cold hand touched her neck.

A raven was laughing all around her.

http://www.ancient-origins.net/news-mysterious-phenomena-unexplained-phenomena/ancient-practice-exorcism-rise-again-001211

I couldn’t fond anything about the exorcist incident from the newspaper in English… Here’s a little bit in Norwegian. https://no.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eksorsisme

A Story Come True

Swift

Swift.jpg

She was looking out over the edge of the nest. She would soon fly. She had been looking over this edge all her life, waiting for her mother and father stop by with food. But now a new time was emerging, she could feel until the tip of her feathers. She was dreaming of the stars, to sleep thousands of meters up in the air, to hunt insects between the houses in the evening.

Her parents had been away for a long time now.  She could see the little insects in the air in front of her. She could catch them, she knew it. She moved carefully up on the edge. Her big wings on each side. She left the edge. Fell towards the grown, testing her wings. She didn’t get it right. The heat from the sun was beyond anything she’d imagined. She got his wings out, moved forward, but didn’t get height. She hit ground.

She wasn’t really hurt, but knew she was in trouble. She was out of her element, like a fish out of water. She was a creature of air. Now she was stuck to the ground. Her short legs and big wings made it difficult to move around. They were not meant to get her up from nothing, they were meant to keep her in the air. She was stuck.

She jumped clumsily around. Feet in shoes stepping around her. She jumped towards the wall where it seemed a bit safer, but still people were stepping close. A dog came running. A human was calling it. The dog saw her, started hitting her with its paw. The human grabbed the dog and pulled it away.

There was a hole in the wall. It was similar to the spot where her nest had been. Safety. She ran towards it in small jumps. She was almost there. Two eyes stared at her from the darkness. Two yellow eyes with a vertical line in the centre.

Look, a bird!

Hands were grabbing at her. She tried to get away, but they picked her up.

There were two of them, and they were communicating with strange sounds. They carried her away. Into a door. Up stairs. In another door and out on a balcony. She could see the ground far below. Height. Afternoon wind blowing through her feathers. Other birds flying by at high speed. The human was holding her high in the air. It opened its fingers. She closed his eyes for a moment. Took a deep breath. Opened them. Jumped. She fell outside of the fence. Opened her wings. They filled with air underneath. Slowed down her fall, made her go forwards. A wall. She was going to crash. She leaned to one side, and her direction followed, flying down the street and up in the air to join her fellow swifts in an air born life.

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

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

Perspective

Johnny

Johnny.jpg

I wrote this little story in class at a creative writing course many years ago. The original Spanish version can be found below. Versión española debajo.

Johnny left the tavern. Fucking Indian. He’d won all his money. The cards had been against him all night long. He had nothing left. He walked down the main street and out of town. The full moon lit up the dry landscape. A beautiful night if he’d been more lucky.

He went up the hill to his camp. He ate the last can of beans. Cold. Fucking Indian. His face was left printed in his mind. The satisfied smile. The feather on his head. The feather… The feather! There, behind the bushes he saw it again. The Indian was walking on the path, a bit further down. He hadn’t seen him. This was his chance to get his money back.

The Indian was walking away from the village. Johnny knew not where to. He neither cared. He wasn’t going to make it there. He followed him. Closed in slowly. Got his knife out of the belt. Closer. He saw a sudden light. An aura around the Indian. It was stronger then the moon. Soon the it lit up more than the loon. Our hero stopped. The light blinded him completely until it shut off abruptly. A falcon flew up towards the moon. Johnny could swear he heard the laugh of the Indian, mocking him. A feather fell slowly towards the ground.

Este pequeño cuento escribí hace ya muchos años en un curso de escritura creativa. Esta es la versión original.

Johnny salió de la taberna mosqueado. El puto indio, pensó. Le había ganado todo su dinero. Las cartas habían estado en su contra toda la noche. No le quedaba nada. Bajó la calle principal del pueblo. La luna llena iluminó el paisaje seco. Una noche bonita si hubiera tenido más suerte.

Johnny subió el monte a su campamento. Se comió la ultima lata de alubias. Fría. Puto indio. Su cara se le había imprimido en su mente. La sonrisa satisfecha. La pluma en la cabeza. La pluma… La pluma! Ahí, detrás los arbustos lo vio otra vez. El indio estaba andando por el camino, más abajo. No le había visto. Ahora era su oportunidad de recuperar el dinero perdido.

El indio se alejaba del pueblo. Johnny no sabía a donde iba. Tampoco le importaba. No iba a llegar. Lo siguió. Se acercó más y más. Sacó el machete del cinturón. Más cerca. De repente vio una luz. Un aura alrededor del indio. Pronto iluminó más fuerte que la luna misma. Nuestro héroe se paró. La luz le deslumbró totalmente hasta que se apagó de golpe. Un halcón subió hacía la luna. Johnny podía jurar que escuchó la risa del indio otra vez, riéndose de él. Una pluma caía lentamente hacía el suelo.

Punishment

Punishment

He lifted the axe. Hate flowed trough him. Anger. Rage.

A crow was watching.

The violence. It felt good. It alleviated the pain, made it less intense. He needed to make it stop, but he knew there was no way. At least he could make the one responsible feel pain as well. The murderer. He kept hitting him. Cutting flesh. Crushing bones. He wanted him to die, but not too fast. First he needed to see him suffer.

The man lying on the ground was begging for his life. I didn’t do it! He was even denying it. There was no doubt, no other explanation, and he was denying it. A murder with no view for consequences. An assassination he’d already threatened he would commit.

I swear upon my children! No shame. No scruples.

You disgust me! The man with the axe screamed. You are the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen!

He looked into his eyes. The creepy, loathsome eyes he knew from before. The eyes of the man who had been terrorizing him and his loved ones for years. The vicious falsity was replaced with fear and self pity.

He had taken away the most precious he had. He lifted his axe above his face.

Now you die!

A crow was watching.

For a moment he saw himself. He saw himself from below, holding an axe. He was him. He knew. He felt. The fear. Pain. The terror. He knew it was true. He remembered. A horrible act of murder. Murdering an innocent to punish someone else. The sick justifications his mind was making. He remembered a horrible, worthless life, all his disgusting acts, his pathetic ignorance and psychopathy. An unbearable self loathing, a hatred towards himself for everything he was.

Kaaw!

He was holding the axe. Looking down on the repugnant man he had been a moment ago. The hate was still there, the disgust was even stronger. Revulsion. Now there was something more. Something worse. The violence of the moment was nothing compared to living in such a putrid mind.

He dropped him. Kicked him in the face and left. He was already suffering enough. Death would be too easy.

 

Shattered

Save

Tiny Little Fanatics

Tiny Little Fanatics.jpg

Lemuel woke up by the sun burning his skin. Slowly his eyes were adapting to the bright light. He wanted to rub them, but his arms was stuck. His head hurt, and couldn’t remember shit from last night.

He looked down. Lifting his head something was tied to his hair as well. He saw little ropes going over his body, tied to little poles on the ground.

What the hell is going on here? He said out loud. Hey! Is there anybody there? Help me!

He was lying outside, on something that looked like a beach. What had he been doing last night?

It’s awake! It’s awake! He heard tiny little voices. They were cheering with excitement.

Who’s there? He said. Help me, I’m stuck!

Something was set up against his arm. He looked down as much as he could. It was a ladder. A tiny little man came climbing up.

Howdy, Giant! He said. You’re big!

Who are you? Said Lemuel. Where am I?

The question is not where you are, monster man. It’s what you are. And you, my giant, are a monster. And monsters must die.

He walked a couple of rounds on his chest. There were others coming up the ladder as well.

Let me loose! Said Lemuel. Why have you… Hey, what are you doing?

The other creatures was pouring liquid out of cans on his chest. It smelled like gasoline.

Stop that!

Stop that, stop that! Mocked the little man as another came over to him with a torch, gave it to him.

Monster from hell, godless giant! You are about to meet your maker, whoever he is.

The other little men ran down the latter, only the one with the the torch remained. Oh, Lord, he said. We are giving you this horrible creature you cannot have created, and therefore must die. Behold the flames that will devour it!

Lemuel was getting very, very uncomfortable. Stop it! Stop!

The little man threw the torch down on Lemuel’s chest. It immediately caught fire. The little man’s shoes as well, they were wet of gasoline. Ouch, ouch, ouch, he said, running around. He jumped down on one side. Lemuel did not hear the noise of little bones breaking and a scream of pain when he hit the ground, because he was screaming himself. His chest was on fire, and it hurt. A lot.

Aaaahhh!! Put it out! Put it out! Help meeee!!!

The little men started singing a song, seemingly to their god or whatever they were worshipping.

Lemuel was twisting and pulling. Suddenly one of his arms was free. The other one, too. The fire had burned the ropes off.

He rolled himself over on his chest to put out the fire. The little men holding their ceremony tried to run away, but he was too big, the distance too long. Hundreds got crushed and burned under his flaming chest. He ripped off the rest of the ropes.

Some of the remaining little men were running away. Others tried to help the injured ones on the ground. The rest hid in a little church they had built of sand.

He gave the church a good kick. It crumbled, as sand castles so easily does. The little creatures seemed to have forgotten their dead and injured. the ones running away had forgotten their fear. All of them started rebuilding their little temple.

He seemed to be just outside of town. He really just wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Stupid little fanatics, he said as he walked away. This was the worst hangover ever.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulliver%27s_Travels

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/fanaticism

Under Ground

El Duende Pt 2/3

El Duende 2.jpg

First part here.

It turned out to be señoritos, rich land owners, who had killed them. They stopped by later that day, making a lot of threats, but no one could do anything.The killings continued. Every morning they found new bodies.

The Guardia Civil, the village military police, was no longer to be seen.

The next day Pedro went out to milk the goat again, but once again the goat was milked. This time the bucket was gone.

A bit confused Pedro looked around the barn. No milk anywhere, but the goat was empty. And there couldn’t have been anyone here. Could there?

So someone have been stealing our milk… That’s odd. It had never happened before. He was worried.

Every morning someone was found dead. The rich men from the city had said they would kill everyone who had voted against the old system. Pedro knew he was in danger.

Life went on, though. They never went anywhere in the night time, but he was worried of who had stolen the milk. The revolutionaries would not steal from him, he knew that. They were occupied taking down the ones in power.

This morning things seemed to be back to normal. He was going down to meet his cousin and some friends to talk about the situation. They couldn’t let people keep disappearing. He went to milk the goat before he left, and was picking up some utensils when he heard something behind him. He turned around.

He was astonished. He had never really believed in the gnomes, but there it was. The same little creature he’d seen the other day. It was real.

Hey! It said. You want some milk? He kicked the milk bucket over. Pedro looked at the milk on the floor…Third part

What did you do that for?

The little creature glared at him viciously. Then he kicked the goat in the butt.

Hey stop that! What do you think you’re… The little gnome came running towards him. Kicked him in the leg. Why you little… Now he was getting angry.

He tried to kick it, but he missed. He tried again. The little soul less gnome was too fast. It picked up a log from the floor. Hit him in the ass with it. Pedro was really pissed now. He grabbed a long stick meant to be the handle for a broom.

Now you’ve done it, he said, hitting for the little man. Missing. All the time. The duende, on the other hand got it quite a few punches. After a long fight he was lying on the floor, exhausted. The little man was sitting on the bench laughing. Pedro was defeated He got up, limped out of the barn.

He walked down towards town. He saw a large group of people further down. They were talking, shouting. People were running up and down the slope. Pedro walked over, slowly, his whole body was hurting.

There were three bodies on the ground. One of them was his cousin. If it wasn’t for the fight with the little man, Pedro would have been one of them.

They just shot them down! Señor Gomez was terrified. Who will be the next? Who will be the next!?

Pedro’s mother was there, crying her eyes out. You have to leave, Pedro! It’s too dangerous here for you now!

Pedro knew she was right. He went home.

I have to go, he said to his wife when he arrived.

She said nothing, ran to the bedroom and started packing.

The same afternoon they left for the forest.

Third part

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

http://vc.bridgew.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1265&context=jiws

The Way Things had Always Been

The Way Things had Always Been.jpg

Stop the thief! Stop the thief! Ragon reacted fast. He lifted his spear, jumped over the wagon between him and the market stairs. In mid air he stabbed the thief in the throat. She fell dead to the ground.

Ragon was a soldier. He protected law and order in the city. His job was mostly to kill people. People who murdered or raped. People who stole. People who kissed in public. Sometimes he did a mistake, but that was just the way things were, the way they had always been. No one questioned it. No one objected.

Marakara came running. Thank you soldier, he said. Thank you! He got the apples out of the dead thief’s hand. He could have bought new apples and it was uncomfortable to see the dead body on the ground, but the law was the law. Things were as they always had been. There was no other way. He never questioned it. He never objected.

One day a stranger came to town. A man from rocky mountains far away. His name was Tornag. He questioned. He spoke with words put together in ways no one had ever heard. Arguments no one could deny. Reason. People listened, started questioning themselves. Soon they objected.

Then things started to change.

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

https://room5.wordpress.com/2009/06/03/the-way-things-have-always-been-done/

Anthropocentrism

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

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

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!

Water

Water.jpg

On an idyllic little lake deep in the forest there’s a little boat. The silence is only broken by the water splashing against it, the oars breaking the surface.

Ouch!

Mike stops. It came from under the hull. Is there someone there? The boat floats forwards for a short while. It stops, wagging in the small movements in the lake. He looks over the edge.

Be careful, stupid! Watch where you’re going!

There’s a little bulb in the surface of the water. It has a face. Mike’s eyes grow in astonishment..

What are you? He says in deep awe.

What does it look like I am, stupid? I’m water.

Water? Mike’s confused. But… but water doesn’t talk?

Water doesn’t talk, water doesn’t talk, the water mocks. Water talks when water fucking wants to talk. Thing is humans aren’t really that interesting for conversation,. but you pissed me off. Get lost!

It disappears. Not the water, of course. The face.

Mike is sitting there. The water just spoke to him. Was he going crazy? He’s trying to make sense of it all. He decides he cannot, and starts rowing in towards shore.

Ouch! He hears again. -That’s it, asshole. That’s it.

Mike looks over the edge. There’s nothing there.

I’m under here, coward! He leans further out.

A wave comes out of nowhere, knocks the boat from the other side. It goes round. Mike falls head first into the pond.

Get him, guys! The water creature things attack him. They punch him in the face with their water hands. It’s quite annoying. They keep splashing their fists in his face as he swims towards the shore. He gets up on the the bank.

And stay out!

Haha! The creatures slaps hand, satisfied with their victory. Yeah! Stupid human. We showed him, didn’t we. That’ll teach him a lesson. So they go on for a while.

They disappear, the surface is once again still.

Mike sits on the shore for a while looking at the lake. That was the strangest thing he’d ever experienced. Once again he shrugs it off, and walks up to his cottage. Probably better not to think too much about it.

https://artsurdo.wordpress.com/2017/02/28/agua/

https://aljathewriter.wordpress.com/2011/12/06/lady-of-the-lake-flash-fiction/

Lake Fear