Faceless Mask

(Credit: allpix.club/pages/f/faceless-mask)

Why can I not turn and look at you? It is as if there is some invisible but physical restraint holding my head in place.

You don’t want me to look at you and you tell me so, but I must see you as you are. With great effort, I catch a glimpse of your shirt, and you ask me to stop trying, your face is terrible, you say. But I cannot live the rest of my life with you hovering behind me as a disembodied voice, telling me jokes and sharing pain, it would drive me mad. In fact, I fear that I already am mad, that you were never there to begin with; that you are simply a figment conjured up by a lonely brain. So I twist my neck just a little further and see.

You have no face. There is only skin pulled over bone with folds and stretch marks.

I wake with a start and fumble for my phone.

You are not on my list of contacts.



I am alone among the stars. I am a nomad. I am Nemo.

It is lovely and lonely out here. Each new wonder bites me with longing for a more recognisable beauty, for a time long past.

In my dreams, sometimes I stand under green birches again, my parents and sister chatter as they walk down the hill. In my dreams, sometimes I am still on earth when it arrives and I witness the destruction from the surface instead of from the ship. After those dreams I always wake with a start, but the tears only come when I remember where I am.

Earth is gone.

And I will be Nemo forevermore.



Inspired by a Nightwish concert.

Is There Anybody Out There?


In a flat, there was a radiator that wondered whether there were any others of its kind out there somewhere. It had never seen any others, but after thinking a while it became certain that if it could only sent out a message, someone would answer. When the woman who lived in the flat hung up poster with a Morse Code alphabet, it knew how to send that message. It sent knocks up through the pipes;

‘Hello,’ and after a pause, ‘hello.’

The man in the flat above happened to be an air traffic controller who had learned Morse Code better than was strictly necessary. After he had heard the first three hellos, he sent one back, knocking on the pipes.

‘Do you feel lonely too?’ answered the radiator and the man did feel lonely, so they had a long conversation afterwards.

The day after, the man did not know whether he should go to meet this new friend face to face. After a week of communication, he was afraid that he might not like what he saw, or that the person in the other end did not want to see him. After a month, it seemed ridiculous to seek the person out.

However, one day when he when down the steps, he saw a woman come out of the flat which he thought the knocking was coming from. Trying to make sure, he asked:

‘Have you heard the knocking?’

‘Oh, yeah, it’s from the radiator in my living room,’ she said, and thought that she would have to ask the landlord to do something about it because it was getting ridiculous.

‘Will you marry me?’ asked the man.

The woman blinked.

‘No thank you,’ she said and hurried down the stairs.

The man did not go to work after that. When the knocking began that evening, he did not answer and the radiator had no idea what had gone wrong.

Crystal Cavern

(Credit: firedudewraith from Deviantart, firedudewraith.deviantart.com/art/Crystal-Cave-2-128406747)

(Credit: firedudewraith from Deviantart, firedudewraith.deviantart.com/art/Crystal-Cave-2-128406747)

He lives in a crystal cavern. When the sun enters, the crystals flash and some create rainbows all around him and sometimes he can pretend that he is living in the sky. He thinks of the cavern as a shell around him, although he has never experienced any other shell with spikes on the inside; some of the crystals can cut flesh easily. Even when the sun enters it never brings any warmth, and he imagines ice crystals growing in his heart. Maybe when his heart is covered in hoarfrost, he will be more one with the cavern and it will feel soft and warm around him. He wonders about this and many other things. He dreams of it, and he dreams of distant forest fires and a red haired woman whom he will never meet. He dreams of cities and large green fields and cages and mobs screaming for freedom. Curling into a ball, he feels another crystal form in his heart and breathes in the safety of his cave.


(Credit: Maxime Desmettre, digital-art-gallery.com/artist/1438)

(Credit: Maxime Desmettre, digital-art-gallery.com/artist/1438)

The bursts of anger were powerful, but short. Most of the time she did not want to kill the little girl at all. Sometimes the girl was almost like the sister she never had; doing summersaults on the moss, falling into the stream with arms and legs flailing. In those moments she wanted Joanna to stay or at least to return regularly. Those were also the only times she felt truly lonely. She could lose herself in her craft for months on end, weaving and chanting, needing nothing but the completion of the next spell. But if after having made her smile, Joanna waved goodbye and the forest closed between them, something stirred in her heart which she had thought long dead and it was getting harder to strangle each time.

It was easier when the anger came. When Joanna chased one of her cats or wanted her to follow her to the village, the rage rose up through the mud of her soul and chased Joanna away. Which was nice; there was some satisfaction to be found in tears, and in the time following she could almost forget the little girl and her smiles.

Until the next time Joanna came knocking at her door.

Old Fashioned Beauty

(Credit: Topofart.com)

(Credit: Topofart.com)

He lived in loneliness for a long time before he succeeded in creating her. He gave her milky skin, rosy lips and cheeks and hair the colour of ripe wheat. He made her thighs and belly round and her breasts like small white apples. Caressing her weak chin, he turned on the power.

When she opened her blue eyes; pale to the point of seeming blind, his heart gave out, and she was left alone in a world that would have thought her Venus about 200 years earlier, but now thought she was lacking both exercise and sunlight.

Searching for a Grandson

An Old Man and His Grandson

An Old Man and His Grandson (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

‘Excuse me, have you seen my grandson?’ the man leant on his cane as he asked. He was wearing slippers and a sweater which hung loose on his shoulders.

‘Your grandson?’ asked the museum guard, blinking as he rose from his folding chair.

‘My grandson,’ the man nodded, ‘yes.’ He cast a glance across the exhibition hall and the wrinkles on his face multiplied.

‘Well, I don’t know, how does he look?’ The guard sniffed, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, noticed a booger had attached itself and wiped it off on the seat of his trousers. The man looked back at him.

‘He should be young,’ said the man, ‘just a little boy.’

‘Yes?’ said the guard checking his hand for snot, but it was gone now. The man beside him sucked on his teeth.

‘What is his name?’ asked the guard.

‘His last name will be Pond, like mine,’ said the man and looked around the hall again.

‘First name?’ asked the guard.

‘Phillip, Phillip Pond,’ said the man following a young man in a beret with his eyes.

‘I could tell the reception that Phillip Pond has gone missing,’ said the guard.

‘Hm?’ the man looked at him with raised eyebrows, ‘but I’m right here,’ he indicated the front of his sweater.

‘Then what is your grandson’s name?’

The man sighed and shook his head.

‘I don’t know,’ he said.

‘You don’t know?’ asked the guard.

‘I’ve never met him, but I must have some family left somewhere.’ He shuffled off with the assistance of his cane.


This image was selected as a picture of the we...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There is thunder in my ears.

I hope someone else hears it too; I hate being alone during a storm.

A Grieving Gargoyle

English: Gargoyle at Château d'Amboise Deutsch...

Gargoyle at Château d’Amboise (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A gibbous moon greets his guttural grunts and gesticulations. Given the opportunity, he guzzles every penny on grammar text books and gobbles them up, but greedy as he is, he cannot grasp the pronunciation and gibberish is the result. The grief has made grooves in his gaunt face. He thinks his ganoid scales gaudy, and they grant him only gloom, so he covers them in grey garments.

As he was going away from the church and the Gregorian choirs the gendarmes gawked at him without giving him the slightest gist of how to behave, even a gypsies warning about the general public would have made him grateful.

Giddy, he gingerly crept out from the graveyard when the worst group mentality gave the impression to have run its course. Now he barely dares glance towards town from his green grove.

He gulps down the memories, wipes his grubby face with the back of a great, scaly hand and grinds through another chapter of grammar.


Namé Hara and the Sea

I tried writing another scene with Namé Hara. This is the result.

I hope you’ll enjoy 🙂


The waves crashed against the shore as Namé Hara dangled her feet off the pier. There was some unpleasant static and she took out her earphones. She let her MPMAN keep playing as she reached for her phone. One new message. Catherine. Namé sighed. After about half a minute she pressed view.

“Want to go down to the shopping centre? 🙂 My class finishes at 2”

“Sorry :/ already got plans…” she texted back. A cold wind blew and she shivered.

“You had plans yesterday too…”

“Yeah, sorry :/” Namé pulled up one leg and hugged her knee. It was almost five minutes before the answer came.

“Is it a boyfriend?”

Namé stared at her phone. A boyfriend? She looked at the pier and her blue nails. As if…

“No.” she wrote back. This time the answer was quick.

“What’s his name?”

“Look I gotta go, write later. CU”

“Alright, don’t tell me. I’ll find out when we meet ;)”

Namé clutched her phone and made a motion as if to throw it into the waves, but stopped halfway. She put the phone back in her pocket and the earphones back in her ears.

“… Loneliness is just a state of mind… ” continued the lyrics and Name Hara looked out across the sea.


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