Tag Archives: mud

Orion

And I smile, because if the most correct thing in the world looks wrong the only thing you can do is to smile.

Bessie runs further, straight ahead into the fields, as if she is hunting something.

I shout her name, but, really, I don’t care.

Bessie is somewhere in the wet mud, but I can only look up, at the wrong Orion.

Orion has seven stars. Three in a line diagonally from the horizon and a very vivid square of four stars is arranged around those three, locking those three into an imaginary square.

But Bessie runs somewhere in the mud and all I can look at is the wrong Orion, the Orion with four stars in the center. And the fourth star, every time I raise my head against the cold, looks wrong. Continue reading

They didn’t know that it was just a show.

Of course they had volunteered. Low budget; volunteers instead of actors. It’s cheaper that way and, if you’re lucky, more interesting.

That’s the core of reality TV.

You will have seen the shows; weird experiments and challenges or just a group locked inside a bungalow and manipulated to hate and attack and love each other.

Now, not all shows make it to your TV screens. Some because they are too boring. Some because the test audiences turn their thumbs down. And some because of accidents.

Accidents, that’s what you could call it.

Of course, they all volunteered and they all volunteered all liability away. Those blanko contracts are strong; even with such unusual cases. The director had trouble and we a bit too – but our studio got off with just a bit of paper money to keep things quiet.

TV works in very simple ways. With ratings and advertisers in your back there is no room for creativity. Creativity dies a slow and dry death the higher you climb the ladder. I saw quite a few that lost their creativity first, then their honor, then their soul. 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

River People 2: River Men

You should read River People 1: River Children first.


You can also listen to this story.


The night was horrible. Neither of us managed to sleep properly. Kristy rolled from side to side while I alternated between staring at the drawn curtains and staring at the closed bathroom door.

We showered together. No way that either of us stays alone with those things around. At about 8 we had breakfast, by the time we got back to our room there was an officer standing outside our door.

I can’t even begin to describe how frustrating this is. They treated us like criminals, separated and interrogated for nearly three hours. It seems they asked Kristy the same questions as me: Continue reading

River People 1: River Children

You can also listen to this story. Audio versions by:


I thought it was just water. Just muddy water, deep enough that the tallest person would not be able to touch bottom and surface at the same time. Our house is about forty steps away – enough to keep the smell away, but not enough to avoid the yearly flood from drowning our garden.

We lived here for four years and we always liked that river despite the smell and lack of life. I heard once that flowing water keeps witches away, maybe that’s part of it. And of course it’s nice to have free water for the garden.

The summer we moved in I tried to swim in the river, but while the air was burning the water was cold as if it had just come off a glacier. I always thought that was strange. I’ve been to the river’s spring though – a waterfall that comes right out of a nearby mountain. Back at the spring the water is clear. Continue reading