This story was an assignment for the creative writing course I did. We had to write diary posts for a week, but the “I” writing the diary was the tulip we all got. Which we couldn’t put in water.
I expected it to die within a couple of days, but turns out nature is pretty awesome some times 😉 Photos can be found here.
Written for a competition at The Cult of Me.
Shuddering Gretel fixed her eyes on the witch. She cowered against the back wall, trying to stay as far away as possible. All the while the witch was hovering near the gaping hole, chuckling to herself and smacking her lips. “Come on, sweet children, there is nothing to be scared about”, she cooed, “it will be over in a flash, you’ll see.”
Gretel glanced at her brother Hansel, his face white, his fists clenched. He was shaking his head. “I don’t want to die…” Continue reading
You sit in the window frame, looking out into the dark night, alone and lonely. The cold of the stone tiles you’re sitting on chill you to the bone. But you’re past shivering after at least an hour staring, you don’t feel the cold anymore, just numbness.
The room is just as cold, the bed empty. Looking at the bed increases your loneliness so you stare outside again. So many little lights that an orange glow can be seen above the roof on the horizon. It gives you a weird feeling, unnatural, alien-like. You look at the sky, search for the few stars that are visible this night. Continue reading
I shift, move my head to a more comfortable spot on the cushions of the rocking couch. My eyes stay fixed on the stars above my head. One foot pulled up, the other on the ground to give the swing a push every now and then.
The night is mild, the sky clear, the moonlight gives everything a mysterious radiance. This is the time of day, or rather night, I love the most. All is quiet, the only sound is the shuffling of night creatures in the bushes surrounding the garden. Continue reading
The moving mass of bodies, sweating, screaming, crying and singing along. All the energy of the audience, the fans, directed at me – us. It adds something, awakens something within me that makes it easier to play, easier to sing.
And there’s you. You play your bass like you were born with it in your arms. Eyes closed, head tilted back slightly, your tall lean body moving with the rhythm, the melodies you create. You are my drug, the only thing that keeps me going in this sometimes mad world. With you next to me on stage I could go on forever and ever. Continue reading
I lie curled up in bed, snuggled as far under the covers as I can manage. But still I’m cold, my feet are freezing, goosebumps all over my body. No matter how much I try, I can’t get warm. Every time I have warmed the part of the bed I cover, my restlessness makes me move, which results in new chills as my body touched cold patches of sheets.
I sigh frustrated, pull the covers tighter under my chin, my knees up closer against my chest. Continue reading