Alien Cookies

Alien eye

One BIG eye, staring at me.

I didn’t say anything. I remember the thought crossing my mind that I hoped she wasn’t here for anal probing. Or he. I have no idea what alien sexes are supposed to look like. I don’t even know whether their species has sexes. But I’m going to call her she, because she had these long eyelashes around her eye and large red lips under her eye stalk.

I think I was in some sort of shock. I mean, I’ve walked home over the field a thousand times before, but never before had I found myself face to eye with an alien. And it was so sudden. I might have been in my own thoughts, but without a sound, she was just suddenly there, holding out a baking pan with cookies towards me.

I blinked, wondering whether it would make any sense for me to ask her whether she was offering me cookies. She held out the baking pan further towards me. I took one, only slightly distracted by small rat-like heads looking at me from the pocket in her red spotted apron. The cookie smelled sugary. I couldn’t recognise the darker spots in its brown matter. I thought it might be chocolate or raisins. Then the thought struck me that it might be something else entirely. What if it was poison? She seemed friendly, but how would an alien know what a human can eat? I swallowed and looked into her large eye, studied the blood vessels. She looked expectant. But again, I had no idea. I still haven’t. It might have been her way of saying that she hates me.

I nibbled at the cookie and sugary sweetness burst into me. Oh, if you ever get the chance to eat a cookie like that, don’t miss it. It’s like hot chocolate when a storm is shaking the roof and rain is splashing against the windows, it’s like an unexpected kiss from that crush you’ve had all year, then it’s like floating into a kingdom made of clouds and half sleeping through an unknown number of days.

Then I woke up under a bush. The sun was high in the sky. I rolled onto my side with a groan and after gathering my strength for maybe an hour, I struggled to my feet. I felt dizzy as I made my way home. Dizzy and shaky, and my butt was sore and I really, REALLY wanted another cookie.

Advertisements

Keep Watching

(Credit: James Mortimer)

(Credit: James Mortimer)

The palms stand close like two sisters, intermingling the leaves of their green hats. Underneath, the withered leaves are their long black hair, shielding their faces from the world. Shielding them from the truth right above them; hopping from one hat to the other.

Green on the outside and orange on the inside; the kea wear the truth in their plumage: Nothing is what it seems. Everything changes when you observe it for long enough. And it seems to keep changing, he realised. Staring, afraid to miss an important moment of epiphany, he watches the sisters blur and begin a slow dance in the breeze.

(Credit: Reddit)

(Credit: Reddit)

Sea Of Stars

(Credit: writing.wikinut.com/img/1hhy8dvlct4px48s/mermaid-and-stars)

(Credit: writing.wikinut.com/img/1hhy8dvlct4px48s/mermaid-and-stars)

She drifts in a sea of stars, letting their white light warm her heart. She moves her tail only just enough to keep her from sinking deeper. From where she is, the stars look like they are sailing on the waves, right above her head, waving, inviting. She reaches out a hand, her fingers break through the surface and a chill wind strokes them. She makes the motion of picking something and draws her hand to her breast. If she could she would pick every one of them and never let them go.

57 Sacrifice

(Credit: josephacheng.deviantart.com/art/Self-Sacrifice-92136293)

(Credit: josephacheng.deviantart.com/art/Self-Sacrifice-92136293)

I sacrifice a goat and two turtle-doves for a full harvest.

I sacrifice bible wood and amethysts for protection from evil.

I sacrifice seven gold coins for wealth and my fattest bull for strong sons.

I sacrifice my ancestors’ memory for fame.

I sacrifice my right hand for luck in war.

I sacrifice my left hand for peace.

I sacrifice my first born for love and my wife for an eternally growing family.

I sacrifice my heart for immortality.

Performance Anxiety

(Credit: William Haefeli)

(Credit: William Haefeli)

It’s been a while.

It’s been a long while since I last posted something (before the brainstorm) and it’s been an even longer while since I reliable posted something for more than a month at a time. This time I fell into a dreaded writer’s block, or maybe it would be more accurate to call it a writing avoidance, since I haven’t been sitting in front of a blank page and pulling my hair out, but avoiding the page altogether. I don’t know why, but every time I thought about writing I felt a great aversion to even opening Word.

So the reason for the updating a brainstorm is twofold.

Firstly, it’s an idea I’ve had for a long time, but since I considered it “cheap” to some extent, I never used it before.

Secondly, because it was something I could actually make myself write.

I just wrote that I did not know why I had an aversion to Word, but that might have been a slight alteration of the truth. I actually am pretty certain that I had performance anxiety. I was just too worried that whatever I wrote wouldn’t be good enough. Letting myself publish a brainstorm helped me get past that anxiety; if it’s unedited it doesn’t have to be great. And I must admit that for me, this blog has always been more about making me write more than it has been about publishing great content (sorry guys). Of course I hope that anyone reading my stories will enjoy them, but if I get so obsessed with the thought of how they will be received that I stop writing them, then I’m doing everyone a disfavour.

I can’t make any promises, but I hope that Word will hold no or at least less terror for me now, so that I can get writing properly again.

I’m still interested in knowing whether you would like to see more brainstorms though.

A Brainstorm (Almost) Unedited

brainstorm real

Quick! Abandon ship!

The rats always know when it’s time to leave.

Should I share my brainstorm with you?

Should I share my brain with you?

My unedited thoughts?

I’ve always been more comfortable with knowing that it was safely tucked away behind my eyes. Even though they say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, you cannot see my thoughts no matter how long you stare into these balls of goo. And maybe that’s for the best. Even if you saw a flicker, it depends on what it sounds like you saw, what I was thinking at the time and the direction of the wind whether I would admit to having a thought like that.

Would you profit from reading my brainstorm? The raw material, unpolished, unhewn even. It is of course not as raw as some things in my brain; it has been through my conscious mind and fingers first, still, would you enjoy wearing two pieces of cloth, kept together with pins?

The metaphor is not perfect, but this is what you get when you get the unedited text.

So after this small taste, are you hungry for more?

Would you like to see what happens before the finished text?

Throw me a comment with your answer.

%d bloggers like this: