Tag Archives: ground

Bessie

Trigger warning: self-harm; harm to animals.


She was two months old when I got her. And just four months when he took her.

Soft, long, golden fur. A tongue that was always hanging out and dripping with saliva. She loved to lick my face. She loved to cuddle up to me at night. And I loved all that about her.

I got her because I was lonely and lost in a way that no human companion wants to fix. But from the day I picked her up I didn’t feel alone anymore. I have two dogs now, one sweeter than the other, but I still thank Bessie for saving me.

I lost her the fourth of April. We were out of the city so that she could run without leash and Bessie loved running after the frisbee and I took the chance to practice a few commands with her.

“Fetch!”

She ran.

“Heel!”

She came.

“Sit!”

Bessie rolled down onto the floor with her belly up and what seemed like a grin on her face.

That belly rub was the last time that I ever touched her. Continue reading

Almond and Rose

The scent woke me up. Gentle, warm, soft, arousing. Almond. Almond and something else, a fruit or a flower.

A glimmer of light came from under the door.

I was nervous, then confused. Somebody was in my apartment, but why that smell? Why such an erotic scent?

Quietly I pulled the jeans over my stiff legs. The scent was slowly fading away. I picked the broom from behind my wardrobe and tiptoed to the door. The door handle moved without a noise. The door opened, I stepped outside. The corridor was dark, only a glimmer of light came from the kitchen.

I slowly moved there and froze.

A woman. A thick but translucent white. Her eyes on the empty space in front of me. Screaming without a sound. A black hole opened in her stomach. Her face slowly deformed. She fell. The moment her body touched the ground she was gone. Continue reading

Nightmare Camp

The ground was soft. That was the first thing I noticed when we arrived. The scout leader said it was okay, not a problem for us. He said it had always been that way, in all those years that the Redground campsite existed.

I was 11 back then and wore my red scarf with pride. We had hiked for nearly a whole day and the younger ones, I among them, would not not have been able to go on any longer.

There would be two more days of hiking until Hideout Canyon. We all knew that and I think I was not the only one that felt regret at having come along.

Even with my aching legs there was one thing I was still more scared of – the darkening sky. I always hated thunder and lightning, then as now, gave me weird visions not far different from nightmares. It was as if the flash of the lightning turned my brain into survival mode, it made my mind a mental cinema screen to play horror movies in.

It was then the thunder that usually woke me from the suffocating fear, only to shock me with a violent, painful wave of panic. Continue reading

The White Pigeon

It must have been around November of last year that I started feeding the pigeons. It was definitely winter and I remember feeling sorry for myself, that’s why I sat in the cold. And then, in the cold, I felt sorry for the birds. Most of them looked very thin, particularly the white one. They looked as if they were freezing.

My colleagues are rather unpleasant to me. They care about things like sports and movies and the previous and next nights of drinking while I rather spend my evenings quietly, maybe with friends and a bottle of wine or else alone with a good book.

No matter how sad or weird it might sound, the pigeons made me feel loved. Sharing my bread or couscous with them somehow seemed as if my existence and the dull days of spreadsheets and angry customer calls meant something. So since November, or maybe it was already October, I spent most of my lunch hours with them. Continue reading

Listen to the Graves

I grew up next to a graveyard. As a child the calm darkness made me uncomfortable – my bedroom looked out over the graveyard and often I found myself at night pressed against my bedroom window. I stared at the flickering candle lights and the shadows they threw and imagined things climbing out of graves.

As a teenager that fear faded. The graveyard was the only green area in the neighborhood and until the security was tightened it actually became our smoke-and-meet spot, a place where our parents would never look for us.

Since then graveyards seem to me more like parks. I think of them as places where I can go to relax and read a book without disturbance. There are always pretty flowers around.

I got my job offer before I even graduated. I didn’t have much time to go apartment hunting. So I wouldn’t say that I particularly looked for an apartment near a graveyard, but I certainly didn’t mind it either. Continue reading

Why I will never hitchhike again

This happened to me about eight years ago. I had hitchhiked regularly for more than two years. This was the last time I ever did.

When you hitchhike overnight there are two options: Either someone offers you a place to stay or you find yourself a place to crawl into. I always had my one-man-tent and a light sleeping bag with me but I rarely needed them. I’m a rather talkative and friendly guy and usually those people that are ready to let a single young man in their car and enjoy his company don’t mind offering said man a bed or at least a corner in the garage at night and a shower in the morning.

I had been on the road for six days and every single night I was lucky enough to score a bed. The second night I had even been invited to come along to a house party. The third night I was offered to join some sort of family reunion where a father met his kids for the first time in years, but I politely refused because his ex wife obviously minded having a smelly stranger around. In return for being polite I got a beer and a pack of yoghurt and was allowed to sleep in the car. Continue reading