Tag Archives: light

The Red Orb

That night Sadie stayed so close to my legs that the leash was hanging through. She was walking slowly with careful steps. She looked tense and her tail and ears were upright.

When I first saw the red light it looked like a distant firefly. I saw it at the end of the street, a bright spot framed by two of the large trees that towered the sides of the road. It seemed to be far down the road, that red light, but it followed a fast up and down motion.

Sadie froze. Her eyes fixated on the light. Her legs buried stiffly into the ground.

I was wondering whether she just saw what I saw or whether there was more, something that I didn’t see or hear. I listened to the silence and stared, just like her. She bared her teeth.

The light grew larger. I remember thinking that it was weird that it did not seem to illuminate anything around it. It was passing right between trees and parked cars but the bright red did not reflect on them. Continue reading

“We went for grandpa.”

It’s now been two months since his father died. We had been to the funeral and I knew that losing his father must have been painful. Still he just held our son’s hand and sat there silently. No tears, no sadness on his face. Just a calm face with a hint of concern. A few times he looked down to Ian and nodded to himself.

We watched as they closed the casket and walked in the first row when they carried it out to the grave. They lowered it inside. There was another speech. I threw a flower and my husband and son threw soil.

On the way back he didn’t say a single word.

Josue had never been the type to show his emotions but he had been close to his father, closer than any other father-son pair I can think of. They had spent many weekends on camping trips and their “men tours.”

Of course it all makes sense now.

I wanted to give him the space he needed. For a week I waited for him to make a move, for him to let his grieve out. Then I asked how he felt.

He never screamed at me before, at least not like that. Not with so much anger. Continue reading

The Knife is Still in My Lap

I sit here shivering with my back against the wall. The knife is still in my lap. I can’t even leave this room. I just don’t know what to do anymore.

It was all because I flunked school. Fuck school. Lock kids into a tiny and smelly room in the best time of their life. And then make sure every small mistake determines their future. A gray and brown building filled with incompetent teachers and kids so horribly raised that not just them but also their parents deserve a good spanking.

That’s why I flunked. I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t stand the incompetence and the boring, dull, dragging hours on broken chairs. I felt my heart clench whenever I just so much as looked at the front door. So I didn’t go. And look where that got me. Continue reading

The Old Doll

The problem is that my fiancée hates the old doll. She doesn’t understand that I need it. Kerri doesn’t understand that bad things happen when the doll is not around.

As long as I can remember the doll was there.

It has a soft round face and rather stiff arms and legs. The red shirt and blue pants are sewn right onto the doll’s skin. Its eyes are blue buttons.

I got the doll from my grandfather. He died shortly before my third birthday and gave me the doll probably a year before that.

I have photos of myself as a two year old. On every one of them the doll is with me. 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

If we survive this night I will never again step on an island

This was meant to be our honeymoon. This was meant to be a happy time and not something like this.

We managed to reach the police but the sea is too rough and they say they can’t do the five miles from the main island in this weather. They won’t be here until the morning. They told us to just “hang in there.” I think they also didn’t take us very seriously.

Tori is sitting in the tiny wardrobe behind me. I just pray that the doors and shutters hold. I don’t know what this thing can do but it looked strong. The last time I heard it it was scratching the wall as if it wanted to climb on the roof, but I think it failed.

We saved for this holiday for two years. Two years! We both wanted it – the tropical island, all for ourselves.

This place looked as beautiful as in the prospectus. There is nothing here except this hut and a small forest of coconut and palm trees and of course the beach to all sides.

The boat brought us here around noon. The chefs stood smiling in front of the round hut with two bottles of champagne and a feast of seafood and fruits.

We sank in the beach chairs and they served us food and champagne until we were barely able to move. The whole time there was no noise except for the clicking of spoons, the small generator that supports the light and the water pump and a single power plug, and of course the waves. Those damn waves. Continue reading