Tag Archives: figure

The Museum

Right out of school I wasn’t really ready for life yet. I needed to get out; get away – see the world, and if the money wasn’t enough for the world, then at least my own country.

I stumbled into him on the way South. A kind lady threw me out on a country road – and he was already there, lying in the dry grass with a cheap grin on his face.

“Been here for an hour,” he said. “Hard spot to catch a ride.”

We talked. Shared a cig he had stolen from his last ride. When there was still no car in sight – at least none that would stop – we walked side by side, our loose shoes sliding over the dirt in unison.

The heat was bad, but worse was the lack of prospects. No cars in sight and only an occasional house interspersed between the large fields. Max saw it first. The blue sky was still above our heads, but a front of gray was approaching from the horizon.

“Better find some roof,” he said.

We had passed the last house nearly twenty minutes ago. The next one, a large building with white walls, was not that far ahead. We pressed on, with larger steps, while the front of gray already swallowed the color of the land.

A large sign, nailed against the fence. The first word must have fallen off, but most letters of the second one remained:

“Muse m” Continue reading

On the Wire

I’m not the only one that remembers him.

Lisa too saw him, sitting there.

We were watching TV. I remember it was a Christmas special, two Indiana Jones movies and then something only for the adults. Lisa didn’t like Indy and the Nazis and when the screen turned black she laughed, at first.

Dad looked for a torch to go downstairs into the pitch-black basement. Mom found candles somewhere and put them up on the dinner table, but every time she turned around they went out again. Lisa and I just huddled on the couch and watched the snow outside.

Dad found the torch. He went downstairs, guided by that strangely round light of the torch. A flickering light.

“This thing is broken,” he said, while taking careful steps with every flicker.

When he was downstairs he called up for mom to bring a candle. Continue reading

Floor 5

“You’re single?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “But hopefully not for too long.”

“That’s good,” he said. “Not that I mind, you know. But women smell too much.”

“Oh, I always thought men are more dirty.”

“Well, he said. “It all depends on your sense of smell.”

The apartment was large and sunny, solid wooden floors, a lift and large windows that I would soon grow to hate. In every respect a bargain.

“The only thing,” he said. “Is that you can’t use the stairs. They were too dangerous and we had to block them. So you have to take the lift and in case of a fire there is an emergency ladder that goes right to your bedroom window.”

“Five floors on a ladder?”

“Well,” he said. “You look pretty strong. I’m sure you can handle that.” Continue reading

Taxi to Hell

If it had been just me I would have been willing to believe that the whole ride was just some sort of nightmarish hallucination. But it wasn’t just me. Alyson and Mitra stepped into the taxi with me. And they both remember the exact same thing.

It was last Saturday. We were at the birthday party of one of Alyson’s high school friends. Mitra, Alyson’s little sister, tagged along just because she happened to be in town. I think she mostly came along because she knew some of the guys that would be around.

The party went into the early morning hours. A few minutes after 2am I called the taxi. The agent told us a car would arrive within less than ten minutes.

Standing at the side of the road the first raindrops hit our heads. Alyson fled under my coat with a squeaking noise and Mitra, an honest third wheel, looked on with a confusion of disgust, jealousy and amusement.

We saw the taxi moving around the corner. It seemed unusually slow but else the car looked alright. We flagged the car down, squeezed on the back seat and told the driver the address to our apartment. Without a word he began driving. Continue reading

“I have just one condition.”

“Look,” Jeremy said. “I know how high rents normally are. I’m letting the room below market value. I have just one condition.”

“What?” I asked.

“Can I trust you?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Jeremy smiled.

“Good. My only condition is that you never step into the third bedroom.”

“I guess that’s okay.”

“I’m serious. The door is locked anyway, so don’t even try. But no matter what you hear or smell or see, no matter what happens, even if the door is unlocked – you can never open the door. And especially you can never step inside.”

“What is…”

“Don’t ask.” Continue reading

A Trick of the Mind

“shittynarrator” kindly narrated this story:


They never stayed long; never long enough as that I could truly recognize their shape or face or movement. They always appeared when I blinked, or when I moved my head quickly from one side of the room to the other.

Most of them seemed to have a human shape; a few looked like other creatures. I saw them on the streets, at school and in the office, in the cinema, at parties, during sports, in the shower, and most often at night while trying to fall asleep. It didn’t even matter whether I was alone in the room or not. There is no safety from errors of your mental processing. For years I thought it was just my brain that was badly wired; I thought I was the only one that saw them.

Then Garret told me about the things in his stairway. Continue reading