#DailyPrompt: Finite Creatures…

To the end of the nightThe boy took the bandages off his fists: his knuckles were red and the skin split on both hands: with a timid smile, he told his sparring friend:

“Now is the time while we think ourselves unbreakable!”

His friend put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and replied:

“But we know, we are mortal, and this ring is our path to the hill, where the cross stands…”


#FiveSentenceFiction: Falling

fallingAt their school she had a poor reputation: a girl who “went” with men, and of course, he could not care less, what he felt was her kindness, the softness of her lips, the smile he wanted to drown into…

Later, much later, he looked for her, without realising it, he was now a writer, and this masterpiece needed a hero – so he reinvented her, and, kindly, she reappeared, transformed, the lover of his youth.

Like Pygmalion, he fell again for her, and this time, she would not let go.

At first he was surprised, charmed, expecting, and called her by the name he remembered, the name of their childhood.

And now he was enslaved, fallen back in time, the prisoner of his beloved ghost.


#DailyPrompt: Twenty-Five Seven

Twenty-five sevenThe rain has not stopped, and as you walk through the room, your long hair falling on those beloved shoulders, I think of the day you came back.

That day, as today, the reflection of the grey clouds, the low sunlight, played on your face: the face of a long lost lover, who came back, on that last second of the twenty-fifth hour.

For this miracle, I am forever grateful, as I follow your gracious steps, enthralled, ignoring the sound of artillery beyond the city limits.

You and me know: this is a hundred years war, and soon, there will be more of us than them.

Soon there will be more living dead in this fight than living, and we know that we will triumph, at the last second, of the twenty-fith hour.

#FiveSentenceFiction: Horizon (the Navigators)

Cassiopeia“In space there is no horizon,” the captain declares, in her intelligent voice, as much to herself as to the duty crew.

You look at me, with the calm eyes of one who knows: soon the captain will read the instructions, and we will ready ourselves  for the long voyage, but only us two know how far we will travel.

Everyone is getting on with their tasks, without haste, as our fragile vessel continues her journey through the night.

… The alert bell rings: an elegant blue hologram floats in the air, and the captain calls the crew to attention.

“I have to communicate to you the new direction we are now to take: we are not turning back, we continue to Epsilon of Cassiopeia, which means over the time horizon, through hyperspace”: the crew falls on their knees, in prayer, you, my love, hold my face in both hands – over the horizon, for us, means eternity…

#DailyPrompt: One-Way Street (long eye-lashes and claws)

Remedios VaroYou are calm and composed, after all, it’s a choice for me, you will be watching.

“It’s simple,” you repeat, “one way you may want to avoid me, or at least try to hide, the other, you have a small chance that I may have forgotten about you…”

Vengeance, as they used to say, is better enjoyed cold. And you are the goddess of retribution, and I am the villain, hoping to escape, hoping to get away, still believing I can hide… Am I?

On the chessboard, there is very little left, a choice of two, one way, or the other, so I look at you, as you observe me, behind those long eyelashes. The truth is that I do not really want to escape, for I’d rather die in your claws than rot in a coward’s hell.

So I beg you, my Nemesis, to tell me which way to jump.

Image: Remedios Varo

#DailyPrompt: Welcome Stranger

Bookshop window in East Berlin“You got used to this now, but remember, this was once a divided city, still is, in subtle ways…”

She is right, my friend from the East: once, the river, and a hideous wall, had marked the boundary of a different world, different from this side, and different again from what the official statements said, as she knows.

“You cross the bridge, near the park, and immediately you know, the air resonates as if you were in another country, you see the signs: people still remember, you couldn’t be in Paris, or London, or Münich: it will take much longer to erase the past!”

I know she’s right, and, perhaps, I do not wish the past to be erased.

#FiveSentenceFiction: Hunger

In memory of Rosa Luxemburg, assassinated by proto-nazis in Berlin, on 15 January 1919.

Landwehrkanal u. Herakles Brücke

She’s here, standing still on this bridge, over the canal I know so well: I am surprised she accepted the invite.

Her creator’s description of her is so true: the curves of a goddess, the raven hair, the icy grey pupils, and those lips…

Ah, this hunger, this hunger for her soul…

Looking down at me with utter contempt, she says: “Here, not that long ago, your minions killed a good woman, a very good friend of mine…”

I don’t have the time to reply, in a fluid and unstoppable move she seizes my bony legs and throws me over in the dark waters of the canal: she’s a warrior, and I a miserable devil.

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