Short stories/novels?

C'mon, I know some people here love to write short stuff. I want to see them. Entertain me mortals.

I only write to vent my emotions. Needless to say they have a bit of....fantasy in them? There's only 2 of them so far, though.

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Do you hear the waves splashing?

I don't have a plant to wrap my everything in. Almost anything green dies under my hands.

So I booked a ticket on this train to your place, just to see how you are doing. It's an old model, steam-operated, clunky train. The handlebars are grimy to the touch, yet not many people seem to be riding it. My seat is right next to the window, where blurry green strokes and grey puffs of smoke mix together and ever so carefully touch it. A colorful bird flies by, not catching my glimpse at its fluttering wings.

I crack the window open. The scent of the sea works its way into my nose as streams of air make contact with my face


.The sea is here. But I don't know where I'm going, or where this train is really going to take me.

Apr 10, 2012.​

---​

Why the smell of rain is so dear.


"Sir? This is the last stop for this train. Do you want to get off here?"

So I dozed off for who knows how long.

Thanking the train attendant, I shove the Palahniuk book into my worn out CaPerro handbag. The train, which was awfully vacated from the start, is almost empty. There is one old guy dressed in cargo green still sitting in his seat at the end of cabin two. He seems to be asleep, and the attendant makes her way to wake him up. Did I look like that before she woke me up? I don't know. I don't think I'd like to bother her for such a trivial matter, either.

The sky is painted a somber grey. It's still drizzling lightly outside, so I put on my leather beret. As the soles of my shoes crunch on the ground, the smell of rain soaking in the ground caresses me.


I once learned from a book that the smell is called petrichor. And like that smell, your smile under that August rain still mystifies what's left of me until this day.

Apr 11, 2012.​

 

Bump before bedtime >

 

The ocean´s lore breathes on me as always while I stand on a shabby old pier - I´ve stood here many times, just watching the sea below me and pondering in everlasting state of suspense.
I see a lonely gull flying high above the dark waters, eyes scouting the horizon, wind in the wings- it is free, just as I always wished to be. It´s getting darker and as the first drops reach the water and I hear the whisper of the ocean - it´s response to the cry of the skies above, I turn away and continue on my regular path again. But as the pouring rain continues to fall, I take off my jacket- even though it would be better to keep it on, because the northern winds never stop blowing here - and I let the rain soak trough my t-shirt and wash my skin. Watching it flowing on me makes me feel so good...
It gives me the feeling of immortality and noiseless, but still roaring sense of understanding- as if the heavens have chosen to cry along with me, or as if I have chosen to cry along with them.

-Nov 17, 2012, in the city of gulls.



....
....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qv9IsNKq1Z4...

 

that night when i woke up... i play aion, k.

 

The air is still humid from the last rain, and a thick layer of pale snow has already covered the city. Snow is slowly, softly descending from the skies - covering everything with it´s everlasting white and drowning into the ocean, like a lover after a long period of solitude...a silent return to the sea. I find myself again only standing in the middle of the street unable to move, watching the snow and letting it fall and melt on the palm of my hand. I watch the people hurrying around me- noone stops, some just glance blankly at me, a lonely person strolling trough the old streets of an old city - admiring the winter, for not much of the winters passed had I spent discovering the cities I lived in- I hated winter, it was killing me - not my mind, but my personality felt attacked by something that wasn´t...warm...and sunny.
But I felt myself turning, the little one inside me still feeling bad and angry. When I think about my last summer, it is not as full of the things I loved as I always thought it would be. When light and warm had betrayed me, darkness and frost were offering a new world to dive in- a world of new sensations, passion for senses, sustenance for soul...
As I watch the winter slowly rising it´s scepter, I feel different, and as the circle continues and the turn outside me is apparent, I know that a turn is just happening inside me too. So let´s see what the winter is still hiding...

-Dec 11, 2012, in the city of gulls