Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Broken pencil poetry. Green

Green
23 may 2018

I close my eyes.
It is warm -
Suffocating.
It is all melting like white chocolate in the sun.

I scrunch my lids together and hold my breath.
It smells like sawdust.
The big round saw starts turning,
picks up speed, whirring,
deafening.
Like a loud roar, a cry out
for a huge injustice.

The tree trunks are lifted,
placed on the long table,
pushed forward
into the blade.

I open my eyes
and scream with the tree trunk being split open.
A whirr. A screech.

Dont't tell me how it ends.
Tell me how it begins.


Saturday, March 10, 2018

Bitesize fiction. Almost poetic...


 Water. It freezes at 0°C. If it doesn't have any impurities. Then the freezing point is higher.

Ice. It has a bigger volume than the same amount of liquid water.

Deciduous trees. They lose their foliage every autumn and grow new leaves in the spring.

Wind. It... brrrr. It bites into your skin and brings tears to your eyes. It is the single soul that animates the frozen winter landscape. Running, flying, dancing to its own music. Almost poetic. Almost...

Bang! A gunshot, then silence. Bang-bang-bang!

I scurry behind one of the thicker trees, holding my breath, listening. Even the wind has stopped, seemingly listening too. Bang-bang! The shots are coming from somewhere to my left, maybe 50m away. A rifle, from the sound of it.

The wind picks up again, this time from the right. The shooter takes a small break and I hear rustling, faint, but still audible. He is trying to move closer in a loose circle, to get a better aim. Still going left.

I quietly slide around the trunk of the tree to the right. Now I see him, rifle muzzle turning left and right, he is searching for movement behind the trees. So far, he hasn't seen me, or he would shoot without remorse.

He is so focused on the trees, he doesn't see the frozen puddles that have formed in a depression between the trees. Just a little further... make one more careless step.

Crack! The thin ice breaks underneath his boot. The water is not deep, just enough to splash up his leg and distract him from his hunt. "What the hell..."

Bang! He looks up surprised, and brings his hand to his right shoulder where I shot him. He sees me. I see him. The wind is still again, waiting for one of us to make the next move.

"Ok, you got me, I'm dead." He finally concedes, pulls out a bright red scarf and starts for the respawn area. "I was this close, man..."

The wind whistles mockingly and this time I agree with it. Time to advance. To my next target.

Friday, November 24, 2017

Broken pencil poetry. You thief!

If you rehearse it... you are a thief.


You thief!
24 Nov 2017



Walk this way
On your synapses,
From one neuron
To the next,
On your way
Through your own dreams.

Have you left breadcrumbs
On your path
To your imagination?
Have you picked all the locks?
Jumped all the fences?

You thief!

You are treading carefully,
Wobbling on the tightrope -
You have rehearsed this so thoroughly,
Why are you so afraid
To perform
Without a safety net?

Saturday, November 4, 2017

Bitesize fiction. With a pinch of salt. Part 3

First Officer's log, stardate 20150706

The Salinians have given us a warm reception and we were given the chance to admire the salt caves. The caves ran deep throughout the planet's crust and held inside them houses, commercial and educational centers and even underground lakes. The Salinians have built themselves a home in these tunnels, leaving room enough for the indigenous plant and animal life, as little as it was, to continue living undisturbed. There was room enough for everyone.

We admired the view of one of their leisure centers from the promenade.

Particularly impressive were their decorative structures and the abundant use of lights. Some were arranged in clusters, others hanging from the ceiling like stalactites. There were very few dark corners in the populated caverns and the atmosphere was almost warm, despite the lower temperature that the Salinians prefer.

There were small row boats on one of the smaller lakes.
After the tour was over, the Captain, myself and the ambassador were invited to participate in the first negotiation meeting. We do not foresee any impediments. Although the Salinians are not technologically advanced and not members of the Federation yet, their behavior so far has been open and the communications smooth.

End log.

Friday, November 3, 2017

Bitesize fiction. Taxi telenovela

The yellow car stops in front of me as I wave my phone to make the driver understand that it was I who had placed the order.

I get in the back seat with my luggage, mechanically confirm my name and give the driver the address. I sit back, relieved to be out of the cold.

The cabbie drives off and resumes his phone conversation without paying me any more mind. I really don't like it when the driver talks on the phone. At least he's using a hands-free device. Hey, it could be worse... he could be trying to make small talk.

I absentmindedly look at the buildings passing by, trying to give the guy some privacy. Easier said than done, he was speaking quite loudly.

"Yes, I know I haven't called you in a while. I needed some time to myself, you understand?" This sounded like a lovers' spat. If it was, it could potentially be too distracting for the driver. I listened in.

"You changed me, see, you made me be this way. I need to be myself and I can't be that with you around." Are they breaking up over the phone? Uh-oh. I feel a sense of panic creeping up on me. I automatically concentrate on the road and all the signs and turns. Why isn't he slowing down when the car in front brakes?

It strikes me then that his voice however has no malice, it is as if he were answering a survey over the phone. "You see? You change me. You have a strong personality and it is really clashing with mine."

The car zips left and right between lanes, followed by a few half-hearted honks. I'm sure that if he cared to notice, he would see me clenching my jaw and fiddling nervously with the straps of my shoulder bag. I knew most cabbies drive like there were some special traffic rules for them, with the ease that comes from doing this job every day. Relax, he stopped at the red light.

"Yes, see, I knew you would understand. You are very intelligent, that's what I like about you. You speak French very well and all too..." I admit, I did not expect the guy to have so much tact and steer the conversation towards a happy ending. He swerved at the last minute to avoid one of the many holes in our road.

"Mm-hm, don't worry about it. I told you, we will be fine."

I see him approaching my home with no sign of stopping. "Can you stop over here please?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," he tells me while braking almost too suddenly. "I have to drop a passenger off, so I need to hang up. I'll call you later, Mike," he talks into his hands-free.

I pay the fare and get out of the car. As I watch him drive off to another order, I think to myself, that was something you don't see everyday in a cab...
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