She ate melancholy by the spoon, directly from the jar… All her aprons stained with sorrow scars… Knittting misery mittens and misery scarfs. Making sigh-beads Necklaces alone In the dark… Not a shriek, not a squeal, not a howl… Just waiting for the night, to take her final bow.
How had she managed to even get there? Wrapped in her raincoat, she felt uneasy sitting on the park bench. The recent shower had driven most people away, but there were still too many pedestrians going about, to her liking. What if someone she knew walked past her? What if someone randomly stopped to…… Continue reading The hermit – part 7
One of the things she liked the best about her new reclused life, was her midday bathing ceremony. Before, lunchtime was just that. Time for lunch. A biologically imposed pause in the chaos of society. People had to eat. Everyone stopped for a brief moment, stuffed themselves with bland food, and rushed back to work.…… Continue reading The hermit – part 6
She bent over the skillet, and almost got high on the bacon baking scent. The sun had not yet risen over the horizon, and to be quite honest, she wasn’t even hungry. She leaned towards the fridge door, and grabbed a sausage to throw in the pan. On any other day, she would have…… Continue reading The hermit – part 5
The rain flickered against the window pane. She lay naked in bed. How long had she been there? She had no idea. She rarely peeked at the clock, except on Thursdays, when her weekly groceries were to be delivered, and on Saturday mornings, of course. She didn’t need to count or keep track of…… Continue reading The hermit – part 4
It was an almost nameless little town, in an almost unknown country-side area. With little houses planted, like trees, far enough away from each other, that two neighbours could have lived their whole life without knowing they even existed, if one had no curiousity. She lived in the home her father had built from his…… Continue reading The peddler…
La nuit est un pays mystérieux. Où tout se conjugue à deux.
She adjusted her big woolen scarf as she walked, and the sound of her soles on the cracking leaves was the only sign of her presence in the woods… She had been there countless number of times, but every visit felt like the first. In the forest, everything was in a perpetual state of changing.…… Continue reading By the lake…
The thunder woke her up, way before the alarm clock would have. The window was still shaking when she opened her eyes on the new day. Another flash of light forced her eyelids closed, and the skies roared again. She rolled in bed, covering her head with the sheets, wipping tears from her sleepy eyes.…… Continue reading Thunderstorm…
Cyranny's Cove 