Category Archives: Blogging

#FiveSentenceFiction: Flight

Migrating cranesWe took the path out of the village and up the wooded hill, and we saw that the landscape was already wearing its early winter coat.

It was not cold, just that early evening coolness that makes one think of wood fire, and cosiness in a warm house.

You looked at the sky, in the direction of the soon setting sun, the pale blue of the horizon now tainted a deep orange.

Then we heard them: an impeccable flight of migrating cranes, the thin V shape of their formation cutting through the evening, dead on the orange globe.

You pressed my hand and said: “You see, they are flying all the way from the Baltic, over this landscape, every year, stopping somewhere in the Ardennes for the night, on their way to Southern Spain, or maybe even Africa, and, you know, our descendants will still see them, after we have long gone.”

#DailyPrompt: Oil, Meet Water

LumièreWe stopped on the path, near the canal, our preferred running lane in Faust’s metropolis, under the chestnut trees. The air was already much cooler, prelude to the cold wind that soon would blow from the plains of Poland and beyond.

“You’re getting too good for me,” I said, nearly out of breath, with the smile of a slightly puzzled male, faced with exquisite female beauty, and superior strength in one.

You smiled and blew a kiss: “Come on, I have to justify your admiration, and, besides, were we not a bischen different it would not work would it?” With the Köpenick accent, how could I ever resist you?

#FiveSentenceFiction: Envy

Morning envyThe moon appeared, a moody silvery face half masked by grey clouds, just above the trees. The young woman moved slowly through the quiet house: it was still early, perhaps before seven in the old clock time: she knew where to find her love, the writer, who must have been at work for a good two hours when she woke up.

There he was, one beloved hand resting still over the keyboard, the deep eyes reading; she did not want to disrupt his thoughts, soon enough the city sounds would bring him to the present (whenever that was, and hopefully close to her.)

He saw her reflection in the screen: “Good morning to my angel,” he said turning toward her, an unstoppable smile on his lips.

“I envy you so much,” she replied, kissing him with much tenderness, “you can so easily live in two worlds at a time…”

3VisD #1 (NaNo ’14) #WritersWednesday

The Shining
She had much talent, at imitating people, acting the impossible, in turn the clown and the seductress, her smile an inescapable charm.

How well I remember her, and the hours, the long walks, the mist of the days, the early morning smell of coffee, the magic of love…

The witchMorning mistHow I wish to live those happy years again, the laughter, the games, her steps in the sand, her shadow in the woods…

And now she’s gone, far, so far even I can no longer reach her: so I will ask the witch to make the offer, taking those dreams back to where they belong, the deep and dark forest of the dead, where I shall seek her soul, for eternity.

#DailyPrompt: Buyers, Beware?

Dora Maar, Double Portrait, 1930I saw her eyes probing the object, a black square with no apparent feature. Behind the long eyelashes the green globes turned to me:

- “And may I ask what the content of this thing might be, if any?”

- “I cannot be absolutely sure… You see, like so many, I died in 2084, a while back…” smiling at the very beautiful young goddess in front of me… “and I lost track of all this. But what I can tell you is what it contained back then, before the fall…”

Hesitantly she said, as I remained silent: “and so… what was it, if this is not intruding?”

“Not at all, this old technology held millions of pictures, everything I could catch, wherever I went, in the days I could still roam this world… Pictures of people, trees, buildings, animals, objects…”

- “This must be worth a fortune… How can I be sure that those pictures are still there though?”

- “Well, this might be pricey, you see no-one is left today who really understands how this sort of thing works. I’d need to search for other items, cables, power boxes, that sort of thing…”

But I knew this was meaningless to her. The amazons had only very primitive technology, and their main weapons were all psychic. Still she was so attractive, for an old fleshless ghost like me.

- “I’ll tell you what. I propose a deal: I get this working and open the content for you, if you allow me in your village. How does that sound?”

I could see she hesitated, deep in thoughts. Of course she would have to consult with her coven. But I had plenty of time.

After a few hours of silence, she finally said: “We have a deal, I had to take responsibility for you… Will you find the other things you need?”

- “Sure,” I replied, “in my days I would have climbed mountains for you…”

Image: Dora Maar, Double Portrait, 1930

Weird Paris: Saints and Sinners

Sisyphus47:

Secrets of a most secretive city…

Originally posted on Paris: People, Places and Bling:

Whilst traipsing through the Jardin des Tuileries, watch-out for “Le Petit Homme Rouge” ("Spring" by sculptor François Barois, Photographs by Theadora Brack)
Whilst traipsing through the Jardin des Tuileries, watch-out for “Le Petit Homme Rouge” (“Spring” by sculptor François Barois, Photographs by Theadora Brack)
Now, let’s go raise some spirits! (La Nuit, T. Brack’s archives)

By Theadora Brack

Calling all saints and sinners: Snuggle tight because it is time to crack open my slim, spellbound volume of spirited adventures in Paris for another retelling. For tricks, I’ve added a few new tales and photographs. I’ve also got the flashlights, pillows, and blankets, along with the marshmallows and bubbly for toasting. Here are eleven of my favorite spooky grounds.

Now, let’s go raise some spirits!

1. The Unknown Celebrity of the Seine

Among the artsy clutter that once adorned nearly every artist’s lair was a plaster face with a mysterious smile. These were cast from a famous death mask called “L’inconnue de la Seine,” made from an unknown 16-year-old who washed up on…

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#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…”