The days are grey, but slowly growing longer. He wishes he had the courage to start editing the manuscripts that lay dormant on his hard drive. Procrastination? Maybe, but more likely he is afraid of what he might discover, under layers of words, some truth he may have missed at the time of writing. His … Continue reading The past is ahead of us
Inspired by Sue's photo prompt There was no one at this desolated place where he had expected to see her. Yet her message had been clear: "Meet me at the guard, the highest point on the hill, where you have a full view of the mesa." They had played there, witches and sorcerers, and later … Continue reading Guarded #writephoto
There are nights when his imagination runs wild. As time passes, those get less frequent, but, if anything, more vivid. Some of the material, and characters, reappear from earlier episodes of his life, some from his writing, others are new fantasies, out of the blue. He is now in the habit of discussing his dreams … Continue reading Fantasy
Three Things Challenge #483 Her resolve he could read on her face, her beloved face. He knew they could not push her sideways, she had already decided their fate. Now she was checking her Glock. They did not stand a chance.
Photo by Thiago Matos on Pexels.com "It's a matter of patience: there is light..." "I believe you, but it seems so far away, almost beyond the horizon." "Have faith. I am here, I will guide you." There is a pause. Outside the rain stops. He can only hear her calm breathing, sense her scent, a … Continue reading Tunnel
"Another few hours and the sea will reach the beach: a small drop of time, the beat of an eyelid... Yet we have to wait, and even then we will not know much more, about us, about life, not even about death..." "My dear, you are philosophical this morning. I know how to cure this! … Continue reading Low Tide
Thursday photo prompt "It was written: now they are coming..." Her voice was calm, and her friend understood she was merely stating a fact. She too had thought of the omen in the last nights, as they both laid, enlaced, on the soft land, under the moon. They looked at each other, in silence. … Continue reading Clouded #writephoto
I wrote this back in 2014 as I was working on the beginning of the novel still titled “The Page”. This work carried on over the following five years, and should have been completed here in Berlin, but was not. Some 40,000 words later, it lays still, unfinished and unedited. Should I take another look? There are so many inconsistencies, and plenty of confusion about characters. In this post, one of them, the historian Gabrielle, who, at the time, was central to the story, accuses the author, and other character, Julian, of being an amiable fool, and a fraud. Indeed it felt like a personal accusation.
I then moved on to write “Viktoria Park”, inspired by Berlin, and events further East that are still unravelling today. “Francis’ story” should have followed but was abandoned quickly, as I found myself under increasing pressure from a variety of sources of inspiration. The bulk of my production has been, from then on, short stories, and even flash fiction. I am pondering now what my writing priorities should be.
J’ai donc choisi ces colonnes pour m’exprimer, plutôt que le blogue de notre auteur. Ce n’est pas que je me méfie de cet homme charmant, mais, ici, je me sens plus libre. Mais, d’abord, permettez-moi de me présenter.
Je m’appelle Gabrielle, qui est le nom qui, je crois, autant qu’on puisse s’assurer d’une ressemblance à telles distances, est le plus proche de mon vrai nom, dans une langue encore peu parlée dans votre monde. Je suis historienne, enfin, l’une de plusieurs spécialistes, dans cette partie de votre galaxie. Mon secteur particulier, ou, comme il est peut-être plus précis, mon intérêt propre, c’est l’histoire du vingtième siècle. À ce titre je suis restée dans votre voisinage, disons, pendant quelques années. Mais, me direz-vous, pourquoi ne pas nous dire les faits tels quels sont? Eh bien voilà: je suis arrivée chez vous un peu avant la guerre de 1870 entre la France…
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Thursday photo prompt As they prepared to leave and go home - a long way away - they started fantasising... There would be an island, a secret garden, a view over the old church, new colours and space for dreaming and loving. Perhaps even a shortcut to the lake from their porch? They would … Continue reading Fantasy #writephoto
Thursday writing prompt "I am glad you brought me here, Paul," she said in a whisper, "I have never seen water on this scale. Even here, this small pool. And the wet sand..." The boy looked back at her, his young bride, as through her veil he saw the blue in blue eyes. "This … Continue reading Silver #writephoto