Lips (Photo credit: Bibi)
They are full, her lips, and painted a tacky flamingo pink.
They are moving, her lips, and a river of nothing is flowing from them.
I loved them, her lips, once upon a time.
Now they are growing still, her lips.
I wipe the tacky flamingo off them before I leave.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on July 31, 2013
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2013/07/31/her-lips/
The albatross from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, depicted by Gustave Doré. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The Cheshire Cat’s grin hangs just above the ship and makes the waves glitter as if there were jewels in the water. My little Molly loved the Cheshire Cat. When we had read Alice in wonderland she would talk about cats for days. Now she can only beg Ann for a cat, and Ann hates cats. I should never have married a dog-person.
Except for Molly. My little Molly makes it all worth it, but will I even get to see her? I want to share the ocean at night with her. The splash of the waves and the stars. I want to share all the best books I’ve read on the long trips when everything settled down and there was nothing better to do but read. When will she be old enough for the Ancient Mariner?
The light from the watchman’s lamp disturbs my reverie and I curse him under my breath, but I know he is necessary. There are pirates in these waters. The theme of Pirates of the Caribbean begins to play in my pocket. I fumble with my phone.
‘Hello?’ I say.
‘Dad?’
‘Molly?’
‘Hi dad!’ she almost shouts and I hold the phone a bit further away from my ear.
‘Molly, hello love, what time is it over there?’
‘It’s umm … Eight … And some more.’
‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’
‘No, it’s Saturday, silly.’
‘Of course, love. How are you?’
‘I got a puppy!’
I lick my lips.
‘Puppy?’
‘A really fluffy puppy.’
‘But, what … what about the little kitty you talked about?’
‘Cats are boring compared to dogs.’
There is a slight pain behind my eyes.
‘You can’t keep it, Molly,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘You can’t keep the dog.’
‘Why? Mum said-’
‘It’s evil,’ I say, ‘I’ll bite you and hurt you. You have to get rid of it.’
‘No, it wouldn’t.’ There is a sob from the other end. It tears at my heart.
‘Remember the Cheshire Cat?’ I say, ‘he wasn’t boring, was he?’
‘No, The Cheshire Cat was fun. He had a big, big smile, but mum says cats don’t really smile.’
‘Cheshire Cats smile,’ I say, ‘but dogs eat them.’
‘No.’
‘Yes, they eat them all up, so there is almost none left.’
There are more sobs.
‘And you know what?’ I say, ‘Mum is on their side.’
There is a bump from the other end, she must have dropped the phone, and I hear crying. Crying and wailing. I hang up.
I look at the moon.
I think of the albatross.
And I feel its weight around my neck.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on July 26, 2013
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2013/07/26/the-albatross/
Rain (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
A thick eiderdown of warm air smothers the forest. She can hear the rain on the leaves, but even though she is standing with her arms outstretched her face turned towards the heavens, not a single drop has touched her yet.
A few more heavy patters then a fat drop splashes over half of her cheek. She blinks as the cool fragments of the watery boulder spread down over her jaw.
No weight shifts from her chest and the eiderdown labours her breathing.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on July 24, 2013
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2013/07/24/rain/
Triglav National Park is a beautiful place full of life. Not only is the air always buzzing with insects there are hawks in the skies, dormice in the trees, chamois on the mountainsides and bears in the forests. During my holiday I saw or heard all of these animals, except the bears.
I spent five nights in a hut in Vrata valley and this was where I heard the dormice. Although they naturally live in trees, a family of dormice had moved into the walls of the hut. It sounded like they had a party each night with plenty of scrambling and squeaking. Luckily, I learnt to sleep through it.
View from the hut.
One day we went from Aljazev dom up to a small hut at almost 2000 metres. It was a rather steep hike compared to what I’ve tried before, but at least we were only carrying day packs. Also, the experience and the view made it well worth it.
View over the Vrata valley.
On that very same trip we saw a chamois walking down a snow patch towards us. It ran away of course when we came too close, but on our way down we saw it again just below the very same snow patch. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a photo, but here is what a chamois looks like running across the snow.
Picture taken from http://www.dpreview.com/forums/post/29847133 where they have several pictures of Chamois.
One of the other days we took a trip to Bled. On our way up to the castle we saw two hawks with their young on a rock face we passed. We had binoculars so we could see them clearly, but the pictures we took show just a rock face with small blotches. After seeing the castle we walked around the lake which had incredibly clear water.
The church in lake Bled. The castle is hidden behind the lower right leaves.
After the five nights in the hut we drove to Berchtesgarden to spend four nights at a cosy three star hotel. Luxury! 😉
View from the hotel.
One of the days in Berchtesgarden we took the cable car called Jennerbahn up the mountain and went hiking from there. We met a good deal more people on this trip than we did hiking in Slovenia, but that did not mean that we did not see any wild animals. During our trip down the mountain in the cable car, we sailed right over the head of a marmot and a bit later we saw a black snake crossing a gravel path.
Marmot (Photo credit: Wikipedia).
As you can hear, I’ve had a lovely trip. As a bonus I even remembered to scribble down a few ideas some of the evenings, so updates will be back to normal from now on. At least for a while.
Did you go anywhere this summer?
Posted by Beatrix MGN on July 22, 2013
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2013/07/22/steep-mountainsides-and-lush-valleys/
Broken glass in window (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
‘1023,’ he says, his finger pointing at the bottom left window of the building. ‘1024,’ his finger moves one window to the right, ‘1025, number 1025 is broken.’ There are only a few shards left of the window around the edges. ‘1026 …’
The parked cars are mirrored in the empty windows.
‘1027 … 1028. Seven buildings, 1028 windows.’ He takes the few steps to the front of the next building.
‘Building number eight,’ he reaches his hand up, finger outstretched accusingly at the top left window on this side of the building. There is a gust of wind and a scraping sound behind him. He freezes for several seconds. Blinks. Turns around slowly. The wind is dragging a yellow plastic bag across the road. His mouth twitches.
He turns his eyes and his finger back to the window.
‘Building number eight. One thousand and …’ he licks his lip, ‘One thousand and … and … you!’ he points into the air, ‘you broke my concentration, why did you do that?’
The plastic bag travels along the road with more scraping. He runs after it, stomps it down and tears it to pieces.
‘Sorry,’ he whispers with one small yellow piece in his hand. He walks back to building number one.
‘Building number one. One,’ he begins, finger outstretched.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on July 17, 2013
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2013/07/17/counting/
Change (Photo credit: rockygirl05)
The parting of her hair depended on how it settled when she came out from the shower in the morning. Sometimes she would preach passionately on some large subject and when asked about it later, shrug her shoulders. It was ordinary for her to change her clothes more than three times a day.
She was a ray of sunshine one moment and a snowstorm the next. Small children had trouble counting her faces.
The only thing constant about her was change, and she always went where the wind took her.
One thing she never did was complete her stories and her life became one long row of beginnings.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on July 12, 2013
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2013/07/12/a-portrait-of-an-unknown-number-of-faces/
Wednesday I published a Z-text so I’m done with my own version of the A to Z challenge. Woop woop woop! (\/)(:,,,:)(\/)
This means I’ll be going back to stories inspired by the 100-challenge, pictures, overheard dialogues or anything else that might spark a good idea. But I won’t go back to regular writing empty-handed.
This A to Z challenge has forced me to use new words and sometimes old words in new ways. I highly recommend that all you writers out there try it. Perhaps not from A to Z, but at least from A to G. It’s a great vocabulary expander. For example, I now know that an umbra can also mean an uninvited guest brought along by an invited guest and vademecum can be used about any token a person always carries with her.
Have you found any good writing exercises recently?
Posted by Beatrix MGN on July 12, 2013
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2013/07/12/a-to-z-challenge-completed/
Zombie Aid 2, Stop, Zombies! (Photo credit: purplemattfish)
She had a pet zoril and it made his fear zymotic diseases reach its zenith. No matter how much zeal she showed in making him at ease, he treated the zoril like it was a zeppelin filled with hydrogen or an unprotected wire which might zap him at any time.
He made “safe-zones” where it was not allowed and she exploited his high zest for zeugmas to try to sneak it in anyway. When he realized what she was doing, his lips first closed as if they were zipped together. Then, when she said there was zero reasons for him to fear the zoril so, he uttered a: “Zounds!” and said curses involving all the animals of the zodiac before warning her that unless she wanted to begin the zombie plague, she had better back off. At that she picked up her zoril and thrust it in his face.
It of course bit him at once and during the week following the incident, he did indeed turn into a zombie.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on July 10, 2013
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2013/07/10/a-zombie-creating-zoril/
Triglav National Park (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Tomorrow, I’m going to Triglav National Park and I won’t be back before the 21st of July, so I won’t be very responsive in that period.
However, I will make sure to answer everyone who comments or writes to me in some other way when I get home.
Until then I wish you the best of summers!
Posted by Beatrix MGN on July 9, 2013
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2013/07/09/triglav/
The family at the hay harvest (Photo credit: MuseumWales)
The yeoman yammered about his yellow yearlings, his scant yield and about how heavy a yoke Yahveh had given him to bear.
It only made the youngster yawn.
The yeoman yanked the youngster’s hair and yelled him in the face, before he slumped down and yammered on, only now it was about his youth and about how he yearned for yesteryear.
The yeoman told many a yarn to the youngster then of yahoos and yaks and Yorkshire men, a few were in Yiddish and those were the only ones the youngster did not suspect the yeoman of having woven himself.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on July 5, 2013
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2013/07/05/the-yeoman-and-the-youngster/
From Scriptor Obscura. Visit her at scriptorwrites.wordpress.com
From Scriptor Obscura. Visit her at scriptorwrites.wordpress.com
From Poetic Parfait. Visit her at poeticparfait.wordpress.com
From Lostupabove. Visit her at lostupabove.wordpress.com
From Sandylikeabeach. Visit her at sandylikeabeach.wordpress.com
From theImaginator. Visit him at theimaginator.wordpress.com.
A Bolg? 