fredag 22 augusti 2008

E-writing assignment 4

This is my attempt to write a poem in the same style as E. A. Poe's creation "The Raven".

A Childhood Episode

Once - when walking - I came past; an elder tree, flamboyant vast
it's branches reaching high into the winter skies
as I sat down 'mongst the roots, kicking of my dirty boots
there came hoots and toots and muffled cries
from above in the crown of ice
and I quickly shut my coward's eyes

How dark the sky now seemed to be, underneath this spooky tree
I was too afraid to uncover my disguise
what ghastly creatures could be found, making such a scary sound
were they bound, bound to the tree by ties,
forever caught, making nothing but sighs?
I shut tight my coward's eyes

Silence fell upon the lands, and I unwrapped my shaking hands
I heard no further whining cries
was it a trick, this gruesome find, a product of a tired mind?
heartrate declined, as I unwined my horror's size
but forthcame to me a big surprise
when I unscrewed my coward' eyes

Right behind me, in the snow, sat a starving baby crow
and I felt love inside my heart arise
it was a cry for aid, that the crow had made,
not afraid, in my pocket he laid to escape the snow and ice
how could I ever find demise
in his staring, beady, charcoal eyes

And now, a poem in my own free style. The subject is taken from my own life.

The Bastards took the Lilac

How proud were you not, lilac
queen of bushes, your arms reaching high and strong
lining the tower of stone.
Your flowers filled the yard with summer,
summersglow like sweet perfume
and sunstreaks through your leaves.
For twenty years or more
you had thrived beneath the tower of stone.
You would hide the bumblebees
under your hands,
gently carresing their tiny forms
or swiftly brush my cheek
as I walked by
hurrying home from summer storms.
New times came for the tower of stone.
Cars need room, no questions asked.
But it was in expense of your court,
the grass, the shrubs, the bumblebees.
Only asphalt left,
and not a trace from the trees.
This is a lament for values forgotten,
a lament because some minds are rotten
But I will always remember where you had your throne
in a sunpatch among shadows
by the tower of stone.

onsdag 20 augusti 2008

My Short Story - Wounds

Realization dawned within Riley one hot, comatose afternoon in the row of many. It dawned in him when he was alone, in a country he hardly knew the name of, in a part of the world he’d never visited. It came with terrifying power and sent a cold stab to the area in his chest where his heart might have been. She knew. Lizzie had known all along what would happen. And then she had just… done it. Riley looked down at his hands. They were trembling.

Everything ends that night on the beach.
Everything starts with a wound.

There were four of them. There was Tucker, the happiest, most fervent crackhead Riley had ever met, with his long sandy hair and contagious chuckle. Also, he had mad skills with the guitar. There was Audrey, a Christian good girl gone rebellion with drugs and piercings as her weapons, who that night had saved said guitar from being thrown into the bonfire twice already. There was Lisa, of course, little fair-headed Lizzie who liked to think that she wasn’t so much of a nerd that the rest of the world considered her to be. That was why she fit in. All of them were outcasts. And on top of the bunch was Riley, King of Grovel, the White Duke. It was the fourth of July and the warm night was lit up by fireworks, pounding of music and the screaming laughs of all the youth Jacksonville could bring forth. Black was the sky, black was the sea, the sand crisp and white and seeping into places where you wouldn’t believe it possible. They were all high as buildings, and with a dirty blanket as his pillow Riley had been staring at the nearest fire for what seemed like an eternity. The flames seemed to twist and dance only for him. He heard nothing, felt nothing, not the wind or even Lizzie’s body cuddled up by his side.
“I love you, Riley.”
Her voice caused drunken ripples to break out on the calm ocean that was Riley’s numb mind, distorting it beyond recognition.
“Oh no you don’t.” he grunted.
Lizzie’s hot breath was on his cheek, whiskey disguised with mint, and the air was vibrating with her always present, nervous energy.
“Yes I do.”
She was on top of him now; God only knew how, her glasses glinting far above him, her matted flaxen hair like a halo against the black sky. Her skinny jeans-clad thighs hugged his hips obscenely. This was all new to Riley. They would always end up together nights like these for different reasons. Lizzie needed reassuring, Riley needed sex. But Lizzie had never acted out like this before and Riley knew right away that he didn’t like it.
“Hey Audrey!” Riley called.
“The geek seems to think that she loves me, do something about it.” Riley turned his head against Audrey’s direction, and all of a sudden it became clear why he didn’t get an answer. Audrey’s mouth was otherwise occupied. Neither she nor Tucker, the lucky bastard, would have noticed if a nitrogen bomb had detonated next to them that very second.
“It’s true, I really do love you.”
Lizzie’s face was closer now. Her stone grey eyes could very well have been beautiful, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the rest of her face was so mediocre. Riley smirked, grabbed her knee and let his hand slide up her thigh to her crotch.
“Then prove it.”
At first she said nothing and Riley thought she was going to smack him. But then she smiled, a broad, warm smile that was very unlike her.
“Fine, I will.” she said, and the next thing Riley knew was her steps in the sand as she took off. This didn’t bother him the least, in fact, he was relieved. Soon he was dozing off, the waves in his ears and the flames whipping in front of his clouded eyes.

He awoke to the sound of yelling, agitated voices.
“Holy shit, that blonde geek is going to jump!”
Jacksonville Bay was surrounded by tall, razor-sharp rocks that dove right into the waves at places. The tallest one had been named the Devils Drop in popular speech, around the time when Riley’s grandparents were young. Over the years it had marked the spot for rites of manhood and many other equally foolish stunts. But the years had also chiseled away chips of stone from the bottom of the cliff, the waves turning them jagged and pointy. Since the deaths of two young men three years prior, no one had ventured even close to the Devils Drop. Not until now. There was movement and alarm all around Riley, yet the world seemed to hold its breath. He was still in a seating position when Lizzie jumped. He watched her fall, the seconds stretching out like hours, her light silhouette against the black sky; and all he could think of was how fragile she looked. Like a rag of white cloth in the wind. Nothing more.

Several tense moments passed before someone decided to run down to the shore and look for Lizzie. Her body was floating in the shallow water among the rocks, and it was broken. Riley would never understand how Audrey and Tucker managed to pack all four of them into Audrey’s car, but somehow they did. Audrey was too hysteric to drive, so they placed Riley in the driver’s seat. It was a miracle he didn’t kill them all the way he drove. However, that proved to be the only miracle that would be granted to them for a long time.

They arrived to a hospital already crowded with adolescents; poisoned from too much alcohol or suffering from fireworks-related injuries. But when Tucker came bursting though the door, carrying Lizzie, everything happened very fast. They took her away someplace deep into the clinic, but Riley didn’t follow. He dragged himself into one of the toilets near the entrance and slumped down on the toilet seat. As electricity surged through Lizzie’s body, desperately trying to wake her, Riley opened a bag of the finest coke that could be found north of the bay and placed a small amount on the edge of the sink. When Lizzie’s last breath escaped her, Riley drew in as hard as he could and his world exploded into shiny shards of colored glass. Cold, cold were the tiles against the back of his head as he closed his eyes and slid down onto the floor. Cold like something that was dead.

It was morning when Riley emerged into the corridor. He wanted the world to be dull; instead he saw everything with overwhelming clarity. Sunlight gushed in from every window, sharpening all the white surfaces until Riley thought he was going blind. He heard a child crying, metallic wheels sliding over the floor, people laughing in the distance. He found Tucker and Audrey on a green couch in a waiting room. Audrey was sobbing quietly and her long black fringe was wet with tears. But it was Tuckers state that really scared Riley. He sat straight up, like he was made of stone, completely silent. His eyes were big and fixed on the floor. Riley had never seen him like that before.
“How is…?”
Riley tried, but he was cut off by Audrey. She hid her face in her palms and her shoulders started shaking violently. Tucker turned his dead-pan stare against Riley, and in his eyes Riley saw all the things they thought they knew about each other withering away.
“Riley… what did you say to her, man?”
“Shut up! Shut up, shut up…” Audrey whimpered, but Riley was already on his way out.

Riley walked out of the hospital, and he never stopped walking. He walked to the bank and withdrew the content of the account his parents had set up for him (for emergency situations, or foremost, for him to use when he finally decided to grow up). He then walked to the airport and bought the first ticket that was out of the country. The flight went to London, eight hours of nothing but water and clouds. They were right above the middle of the Atlantic when the withdrawal symptoms hit Riley. He was feverish and trembling like a mad man, and he had to convince the stewards that he was epileptic in order to be left alone. Riley placed his burning, aching forehead to the window and cried without tears.

London was windy and dark, but it wasn’t far away enough. A couple of days filled with boat-rides and busses later, Riley considered himself lost. As he walked down a quiet street into a small town by the shore, he thought to himself that that had been the meaning from the start. He had wanted to get lost, to get consumed by the earth as his guilt consumed him from inside his very bones, every waking second. He had wanted to go somewhere where nothing reminded him of that night, and he had failed miserably. Everywhere he went there was either sea or rocks and black skies, same sky, same torment that was impossible to escape from. As he drew nearer the center of the little town, he heard noises. There were clubs there and bars, crowds of anxious, drunken, haughty people… It was all the same. Riley sat for hours on a park bench at the town square, consuming two packets of Danish cigarettes as he watched them. He hadn’t smoked anything as harmless as cigarettes since he was an angry thirteen-year old. He had nowhere to go, and truth to be told, his only wish was to melt away into the night and never come out again.

There was a club right across the square from where he sat. Suddenly, a small group of people left it in a chaotic manner. A fat Danish girl was yelling at two young men following her, they were tearing at her jacket and laughing viciously at her protests. There was no security or help to be seen, and before Riley even knew it he was on his feet.
“Leave her alone!” Riley yelled, and the two men spun around. They scrutinized Riley, then said something spiteful about him to each other in Danish. Riley stepped closer to them.
“I said, leave her alone.”
Maybe it was the fact that he caught them off guard, maybe it was the way he looked at them. In any case, they snorted and walked back into the club. The girl poured a whole rigmarole of words over Riley before she realized that he didn’t understand her. She then proceeded to tell him in English that she appreciated his help, but that she really hadn’t needed it. Her face was round and flustered, her hair tied back in a long ponytail, she wore boots and the most ill-fitting leather pants Riley had ever seen. Her name was Trine, and he would live in her home for two months to come.

They hadn’t talked for long before Trine decided that Riley would sleep on her couch that same night. He did, and the single night was soon followed by others. Trine worked at a daycare during the day, and she let Riley use her aged computer and come and go as he pleased. Riley thought that he must have seemed like a stray kitten to her, dirty and hungry and in need of love. Maybe he had come to her in a time where she really needed to help someone. Every night she masked her happiness to see him - still there when she returned – well, but Riley noticed. They watched TV, cooked simple meals together and small talked. Only once did Trine ask him why he had left, Riley then turned his face away and she never asked him again. The days were long and warm. Trine offered books for Riley to read, but he spent most of his time wandering the shore or sitting on her balcony with a pen and a writing pad. He had never known that he had it in him, but his head was no longer clouded by drugs, the pain was sharper but he found a strange comfort in that. Often he wouldn’t stop to think about what he was writing until he broke the pencil or ran out of paper. At one time, Riley understood that his writings were letters, letters to Lizzie, and his words were solely of forgiveness.

Riley had lived with Trine for almost two months. He sat by her computer one night and transferred his texts onto it, for some reason he wanted to keep them. Trine seated herself by his side and without asking, helped him organize the over-scribbled papers. When she was done, she looked at him cautiously for a while and then caressed his upper arm very slowly. Riley looked at her. Her hair was let down and she had put on makeup. He knew right away what she wanted from him, and he did it for her, did her that small favor. Trine curled her toes when she came.

Some time afterwards Riley was merely awake, drifting between sleep and consciousness. Trine, however, was bouncy and smiling from ear to ear. She calmed down eventually with one of her books, and Riley was seconds away from falling asleep. Suddenly, he felt Trines elbow nudging his lightly.
“I really must read you this. It’s another famous quote, I know, but this one is really good.”
“`All humans have wounds. The only thing we can do in this rotten world is to try and not inflict more wounds on each other than necessary.´”
Trine slept within ten minutes after closing the book. Riley did not.

He waited a few days, like a child on the edge of the highest trampoline. Then, one morning after Trine had left for work, Riley got up and organized his few belongings in a plastic bag. The shirt and jeans he had bought, the writing pad and the book Trine had given him. It was the first chilly day for what seemed like ages, and through the windows Riley thought he could see autumn rolling in over Europe like heavy silver clouds above the water. He left a note on Trines kitchen table, on it was many words that really couldn’t express his thoughts. He signed the note “Thank you.”

“Riley?! Oh my God, is it really you?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Where have you been?! Oh what the hell, it doesn’t matter, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“I can’t believe… I mean, I thought… We’ve missed you so much…”
“Audrey… how are things, back home?”
“Oh you know, everything is the same, only nothing like it was before. It’s… different, but I think it’ll be okay, you know? I think it will… where are you?”
“I’m coming home.”

torsdag 31 juli 2008

E-writing assignment 3

The limerick

There once was a mad chap named Fred
who used his five cats as a bed
all night as he slept
the poor cats they wept
and at dawn all his trousers were shred

The haiku

the crystal of snow
around my lone figurine
a widespaced yonder

lördag 26 juli 2008

E-writing assignment 2

You're waiting at a bus stop in your home town. A well-mannered and well-spoken male tourist stops by and asks you for directions to places he says he's been told to visit during his stay. You offer to help him, but as the conversation continues you find yourself overwhelmed by a growing sense of unease.

- Excuse me, miss?
- Yes?
- Could you be so kind and direct me to Hyde Park? I'm only visiting this town, and I've been told that it's really beautiful.
- Oh, why of course! It's actually not very far from here. If you just follow Cherrygrove Lane down to the intersection, then turn left and then right at the next street, you'll be there. It's only a couple of minutes away.
- I see, so right and then left?
- No, the other way round.
- Oh, this is so like me. I tell you, I've been known to get lost in supermarkets...
- (giggles) Well, I suppose I could take you there; my bus doesn't leave in fifteen minutes anyway.
- Could you? That is so very kind of you!
- No problem. This way.
- You should know that I've only talked to different conductors for days. It feels good to meet a young, pleasant human-being at last...
- Well, I guess they can be a bit cranky.
- You have no idea.
- Hyde Park is very beautiful indeed. It’s a must see, so I’m not surprised that you’ve been recommended to visit it. The old oak-trees, the lake, the exotic flowers… I’m sure you will enjoy it.
- Mhm.
- Pardon?
- Oh, I’m sorry. I was just looking at your hair.
- My hair?
- Yes. Are you a natural redhead?
- … yes.
- Your hair is very pretty.
- Thank you… Well, here we are now. Look, you can see that some of the trees are higher than the house-roofs.
- Does it cost anything to enter?
- (opens the gate) No, it’s completely free.
- Young lady, you really do surprise me.
- I do? How come?
- You tag along a stranger without even blinking, after the sunset, when a young woman was murdered not far from here just two months ago…
- Ehm, I guess I’m not easily frightened…
- (closes the gate to the park behind them) Maybe you should be.

A wealthy woman has called for her nearly-grown son to talk to him about a sensitive subject. Their relationship is very strained.

- So? You said you wanted to talk to me and here I am.
- Come over here.
- I think I’ll be staying where I am if you don’t mind.
- Mitchell, my dear boy…
- Skip the sapping and get on with it, will you?
- I forbid you to see him anymore.
- (leans back into an armchair) Oh, this is going to be good.
- I am serious about this!
- Just on what grounds do you think you’re authorized to even consider such a thing? I am eighteen and I can do what I want!
- Not without your dad’s money, you can’t.
- Is this what I think it is?
- Mitchell…
- You’re threatening to disown me if I don’t stop seeing David?
- You need to come back down to earth! That David has twisted your head and filled it with lies. There is no life for you with him! You were once such a nice boy, so handsome, all the girls fawned over you. You had everything, but that wasn’t enough!
- I had nothing.
- What?!
- I had nothing until I met David.
- Oh Lord, give me strength…
- Does it scare you?
- Scare me? What?
- Does it scare you that your useless son has found the greatest, most beautiful thing this rotten world has to offer? Something that you yourself never have been close to experiencing?
- I don’t know what you’re talking about.
- Love, mother! For fucks sake, to think that I have to explain it to you! I love David, I love him and there is nothing you can do about it!
- You don’t love him, Mitchell! People like him don’t know love! (her voice pitches higher) My son cannot be in love with a sodomist!
- Thank you, mother.
- …
- You have told me everything I needed to know. I understand now that this is not about me, this is about your perfect world. And, since I will not be able to fit into it, I will leave. Don’t mourn the fact that you’ve never loved me, someone else does. (he turns to leave)
- Mitchell!
- And don’t worry about the money. I’ll manage.
(he leaves)

And now, the one without description.

- Will you stop that!?
- ... (munching)
- Bart, I'm talking to you! Stop it!
- (looks up) What's with all the racket?
- Stop eating those, they are not for you!
- The brownies?
- YES, the bloody brownies! Gods, I swear it's like being a babysitter!
- (still munching away) There is only one baby here.
- Oh yeah?
- Quite frankly, my dear, I am three times older than you...
- Would you be so kind and start acting like it, then? (gathering up the remaining brownies) These were meant for Jocet and Saorla!
- You have only yourself to blame, putting them in the middle of the table where I could see them. I'm like the stalking cougar, when I see my prey, I switch to auto-mode. It was pure instinct, I swear.
- (smiling) Someone has been watching to much Animal Planet.
- And what a great channel it is! They have this new show on, called "The Wild Cat Diaries". Have you seen it, dear?
- I don't really have the time to watch TV.
- It's on tonight, maybe we could watch it together?
- I have so much to do...
- Please?
- Grandpa...
- Pretty-like-a-cougar-please?
- (sighs and smiles) Well, all right.
- Old Barty still has it (pats himself on the shoulder). Oh, I remember in my younger days, there wasn't a girl in town who could say no to me...
- (laughing) I think it's time for your nap.
- Indeed it is, lassie. Roll 'em away!
(She grabs the handles on his wheelchair and they leave the kitchen)

torsdag 26 juni 2008

E-writing assignment 1

”How do you fit a full-grown racing horse into a normal-sized car?”
Joleen tore her gaze away from the glass in front of her and stared blankly at the man. It took her about two seconds to realize who he was and what his intentions were. He was gangly, skinny like a twig, and the rich mop of dirty-blonde hair failed to draw attention away from the pimples that helplessly blotched his pale skin. Big, gray eyes watched her cautiously from behind glasses so thick that it was a wonder he saw anything at all. She knew his type. She had encountered so many of them, and they were all alike. She knew that if she just peered over his shoulder, she would see his fellow nerds standing huddled in the darkest corner of the bar, trying not to look but failing to do so. Joleen wondered just how much time and planning it had taken him just to be able to walk up to her. In any case, her dead-pan stare was beginning to freak him out big time; she could tell by the way his lips were trembling. She put an icy little smile on her face and turned her whole body towards his direction. The overgrown boy suppressed a flinch.
“No, I really don’t. But I suppose you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?” she said, sounding as amiable as possible and leaning over to him just slightly as she spoke. The effect was instant. Her admirer started stuttering, dropped his gaze to his untied shoelaces, and brought it back up to her. This wasn’t rehearsed; he had no idea what to do next. Drops of sweat started forming at his temples. He positively reeked of fear, and for some reason Joleen’s nostrils widened and like a beast, she drew it in. She edged her body yet closer to him, so close now that her breasts would touch his chest if she breathed in too hard.
“Well?” she said, a cold strain in her voice now, demanding.
“Umm, f-first you open the doors… You see? T-the doors? The joke sucks, of course, I-I just…”
But Joleen didn’t listen to any of his stammerings. She had tossed her hair back and before the nerd had a chance to react she had leant in all the way and pressed her lips against his ear.
“Honey, you are wasting time, you do understand that? Your own and most certainly mine… so I suggest you leave me alone before I get real upset.” She hissed the last part, then withdrew from him quicker than a cobra.

She hadn’t seen a man disappear as fast as this one now did in a long time. He almost tripped over his own feet in his rush to get back to the safety of the nerd clan. Joleen sighed. Her glass was empty and her chest colder than it had been all day, but as she paid up and ventured out into the spring night her thoughts were on him. She was sure that no woman had gotten closer to him than she had this night, and that he would be fucking her over and over in his dreams for weeks to come. She found a strange comfort in that.

The early morning was soft and almost not chilly at all, instead churning with sound and smell, of wet grass and stones. Of life? Joleen wondered. The rising sun painted the house roofs in crisp blue and warm yellow. A bird sung carefully somewhere in the distant and the outskirt streets were completely deserted. Even the remote sound of cars couldn’t disturb the atmosphere. It was calamity and harmony in all ways possible. She really should be mellow. Mellow was the only mood appropriate for mornings like these. But everything inside of Joleen was on end. Nothing was like it should be. She had been taken the longest way home from the bar downtown, because she hadn’t found what she was looking for there. She had been walking for hours, still not finding what she was looking for. As she slumped down on the porch to her apartment, where she had found her boyfriend and her course mate Anna tangled up that night, she noticed something shiny that lay carelessly thrown on the stone pathway. It was the knife, the edge still covered in blood. And at that very moment, she just knew.

lördag 14 juni 2008

Summerblog 2008

This is my first entry regarding my course in Creative Writing. I will publish the result of every task Andy gives us, including the ones who are not obligatory. Following is our very first exercise, a description of a character using five questions asked to a coursemate. Feel free to comment!

X801 was the latest and most advanced in the series of caretaking emodroids. She, because it was always a she, was not the kind of equipment you'd find exclusively in the inner circle, though. Her emotional abilities were extraordinary, and included but was not limited to mind-reading, channeling, strong empathy and a great understanding of the human psyche. These abilities had earned her line the nickname "emopaths". She and her sisters were placed in orphanages, hospitals and childcaring institutes all around the faces of the planet. Out of all her skills, her ability to connect with and caring for children - making their voices heard - was the most prized. She was able to speak their language and gained their respect and trust almost instantly. This was also true for children that had been abused and had lost all trust in human adults.

She was happiest when she could be with the children, they were her purpose and in many cases she was known to forsake her own wellbeing for the sake of them. Children were not the only humans she could respond to, though. She was highly intelligent and could very well carry out complex political discussions as well as problemsolving on a more trivial level. She was also able to wordlessly communicate with certain types of animals, particulary many species of canines. As her creators had feared what a strong emodroids negative emotions could unleash, she was designed being unable to feel anger. All of the other feelings, plus a few that her creators hadn't counted upon, she could feel very vividly. Affection, distress, worry, happiness, small portions of irritation, the list went on. Should she by any chance display outbursts of anger it was to be considered a malfunction.

No experimental race of droids or emodroids are without flaw. X801's biggest weaknesses were her tendency to become just too emotional, to the point that it made her unable to perform her tasks - and her tendency to trust and bond with people too easily, and in thoses cases she would ignore her mind-reading powers that might have indicated an ill-willing or evil person. Another surprise that her creators got upon creating her, was her immense love and affection towards the particular man that had made the final touches on her and finally awokened her. She considered this man her "father".

onsdag 23 januari 2008


Snöattack! Jag har blivit så van vid pissljummet januariväder numera att jag fick en smärre hjärtattack när snön började ösa ner i dagarna. Det snöar idag också, och det verkar som om det tänker fortsätta. Vinter, redan?
Igår var jag Rebeckas modell och fick en av mina drömmar uppfyllda, jag blev fotad i en riktig studio med en riktig kamera. Bilderna blev så bra att det inte är riktigt klokt. Jag kan inte sluta titta på dem. Får man vara ego och tycka att man är hetast på jorden ibland? Jag har gått runt här ett bra tag och bara flinat för mig själv och kollat in min spegelbild i varenda skyltfönster. Kanske märks det om man känner sig snygg för idag på Konsum hade jag två av de yngre killarna i personalens fulla uppmärksamhet. De tittade på mig som om jag var en sexbomb. Lycka!

Men livet verkar aldrig kunna gå på en rät linje, ideligen hamnar man i väggar och stickspår och nedförsbackar. Fick veta att Meany nästan direkt efter att han varit hos mig försökte ta livet av sig med tabletter för att han är så olycklig över sin flickvän. Han ligger på intensiven nu, men han lever. Någon som inte lever längre är Heath Ledger, den underbare skådespelaren som jag minns bäst från Brokeback Mountain. Han hade allt, talang, utseende, pengar, en framtid, till och med en liten dotter. Ändå ville han inte leva längre, 28 år gammal.
Life is a rollercoaster, indeed.