I‘ve been writing to pass the time as of late, and I thought I‘d use this thread to share some of my creations with you guys. Because I‘m experimenting a lot, it ranges from haikus to full-blown ten-page stories. For that same reason, I‘ll probably deem most of my writings too crappy to post. In short, I can‘t promise anything about the frequency, nature and quality of my future writing, and so I won‘t.
13/8/12
To kick off, here‘s a poem I wrote a while ago because I‘m sick of all the self-styled rebels. Sheep can rage too.
Don‘t bother (wrong side of the riot shield)
Inspiration struck, so here‘s a little haiku too:
Frustration
14/8/12
This one happened when I tried to describe how I felt while running a few miles today. Running is kind of a meditation to me, so I tried to capture that feeling. Didn‘t put much thought into it, so I‘m curious if it gets anything across.
Distance
20/8/12
Finally got the short story done. The concept came to me after a tour of an old Stasi prison in East Germany, as I wanted to incorporate the atmosphere of a setting like that into a bit of magical realism. I'm still not entirely happy about it, but I didn't feel like putting even more time into it. If Darius seems a bit obsessive to you, that is intentional. Please be critical, I rarely write this kind of stuff, so any serious advice is appreciated.
The Nighthawk
22/8/12
I realized how much of what happens never makes it into the media. This was the result. All around the world, life goes on. The revolution won‘t be televised until innocent bystanders start dying.
If a tree falls
Criticism is welcome, flaming is not.
13/8/12
To kick off, here‘s a poem I wrote a while ago because I‘m sick of all the self-styled rebels. Sheep can rage too.
Don‘t bother (wrong side of the riot shield)
It all feels wrong
and you feel sick
don‘t want to be
a money addict
Keep running around
but you don‘t feel whole
from nine to five
you sold your soul
So spread the word to the mob
scream how you‘ll never yield
but you‘re on the wrong side
of the riot shield
Shouting the loudest
but crying inside
‘cause they won‘t give the world up
try as you might
Can‘t go without
though it‘s making you sick
you‘re just another
involuntary
western civilization addict
and you feel sick
don‘t want to be
a money addict
Keep running around
but you don‘t feel whole
from nine to five
you sold your soul
So spread the word to the mob
scream how you‘ll never yield
but you‘re on the wrong side
of the riot shield
Shouting the loudest
but crying inside
‘cause they won‘t give the world up
try as you might
Can‘t go without
though it‘s making you sick
you‘re just another
involuntary
western civilization addict
Inspiration struck, so here‘s a little haiku too:
Frustration
Nobody but you
Fails to understand me as
Fully as you do
Fails to understand me as
Fully as you do
14/8/12
This one happened when I tried to describe how I felt while running a few miles today. Running is kind of a meditation to me, so I tried to capture that feeling. Didn‘t put much thought into it, so I‘m curious if it gets anything across.
Distance
Alone with the road beneath
going nowhere, from anywhere
running from nothing
nothing but the distance
going nowhere, from anywhere
running from nothing
nothing but the distance
20/8/12
Finally got the short story done. The concept came to me after a tour of an old Stasi prison in East Germany, as I wanted to incorporate the atmosphere of a setting like that into a bit of magical realism. I'm still not entirely happy about it, but I didn't feel like putting even more time into it. If Darius seems a bit obsessive to you, that is intentional. Please be critical, I rarely write this kind of stuff, so any serious advice is appreciated.
The Nighthawk
As the guards led him through corridor after corridor, Darius wondered where he was. There were hundreds of cells in this building, yet the hallways were deserted, with not a soul in sight. It had been a good three hours since they’d arrested him in Berlin: he could be anywhere. He was shoved roughly up one last staircase, taken through a door, and found himself in a surprisingly ordinary office. A stocky man, just showing the first streaks of grey in his hair, sat behind a desk. Bookshelves lined one wall, and four empty chairs were set up around another table.
“Mister Schneider?”
Darius looked up at the sound of his name.
“Please sit down”
The man behind the desk pointed him to a rough wooden stool in a corner of the room.
“Put your hands under your legs. I will not introduce myself, because my name is of no relevance to you. I know who you are. Do you know why you’re here?
“No.”
That was not really a lie: the Stasi could be after him for any reason.
“Are you acquainted with Roman Alte?”
Roman was a close friend of his. Lying would be no use – they probably knew the answer already.
“I am.”
“Were you aware that Herr Alte was preparing to cross the border to the West?”
“No.”
“Did he ever speak to you of such plans?”
Darius hesitated.
“Only jokingly”, he replied. He tried to shift his weight around a bit. His fingers were starting to tingle.
“Is it true that you have contacts with several Western politicians, journalists and other influential figures?”
“Of course. I am a newspaper reporter, so I obviously have some international contacts.”
The interrogation dragged on this way for hours. Sometimes, the Stasi man took little notes. At long last, Darius was dismissed.
“I think we are done for now”
When the guards took Darius away, he added:
“By the way, how’s Lorena doing?”
Darius froze. He could lie about Roman to save his skin, but Lorena made this a whole other story. As the guards took him to a cell, he could think of nothing but Lorena: her hair, her smile, and all the ways in which they could make her life miserable. When feeling finally returned to his fingers, even the pain did not distract him.
Darius slept badly that night. The guards woke him up regularly, and when they didn’t, he dreamed unrestfully. He woke up groggy and tired. A sparse breakfast was set out on the table in his cell. After he finished it, he sat down on the bed. A guard came in and told him he wasn’t allowed to, so he sat on the chair by the table. He hummed a little tune to pass the time, but once more, he wasn’t allowed to. There was nothing to do but wait as the minutes crawled by. A window in his cell looked out on the prison yard. They let him out for a while, but there was nothing to do outside either. The day seemed to last an eternity.
That night, Darius saw someone standing in the yard. The figure stood perfectly still, all features obscured by a dark trenchcoat and hat. And old-fashioned lantern stood at the mystery person’s feet, illuminating him with a flickering, yellow light. Darius blinked in surprise. When he looked down again, there was no-one to be seen.
Things didn’t get any better. Darius spent his days worrying about his girlfriend, and his nights trying to catch a precious few hours of sleep. After almost two weeks, the sleep-deprived monotony was broken. Darius was taken up for another round of questioning.
This time, some of the additional seats were taken. One of the occupants was a large, bald man. When Darius saw the other, he wanted to cry. A young woman with a delicate face and a waterfall of chestnut curls was sitting at the table.
Is that her? Is she helping them? Did they force her to? Was Lorena spying on me all along? Is that really her?
Darius didn’t even bother lying to them. Roman couldn’t be saved anymore, and if they had Lorena... If that really was her... Better to give up already.
Darius stood staring out of the cell window for a long time, trying to make some sense of what had happened. Had she really betrayed him? By the time the first stars appeared, he still didn’t know. A small light down in the yard eventually distracted him from this line of thought. It was the same figure he’d seen before, holding the lantern in its hand. This time, however, it seemed to be looking directly at him. After a few moments, the dark figure bowed its head slightly, as if showing respect, and took its hat off. By the shimmer of the burning oil, Darius could not see what lay beneath.
A slight breeze woke him up in the darkness. It took Darius a while to realize his cell wasn’t normally that drafty. He got out of bed, and slowly walked toward the door. Waving his hands around in front of him, he felt nothing. The door was open. By the faint light from the widely spaced windows, he could see the hallway was deserted. There was no sign of the guards anywhere. He heard slow footsteps echoing down an adjacent corridor. Around the corner, he could see a yellow, shimmering light moving toward him.
“Mister Schneider?”
Darius looked up at the sound of his name.
“Please sit down”
The man behind the desk pointed him to a rough wooden stool in a corner of the room.
“Put your hands under your legs. I will not introduce myself, because my name is of no relevance to you. I know who you are. Do you know why you’re here?
“No.”
That was not really a lie: the Stasi could be after him for any reason.
“Are you acquainted with Roman Alte?”
Roman was a close friend of his. Lying would be no use – they probably knew the answer already.
“I am.”
“Were you aware that Herr Alte was preparing to cross the border to the West?”
“No.”
“Did he ever speak to you of such plans?”
Darius hesitated.
“Only jokingly”, he replied. He tried to shift his weight around a bit. His fingers were starting to tingle.
“Is it true that you have contacts with several Western politicians, journalists and other influential figures?”
“Of course. I am a newspaper reporter, so I obviously have some international contacts.”
The interrogation dragged on this way for hours. Sometimes, the Stasi man took little notes. At long last, Darius was dismissed.
“I think we are done for now”
When the guards took Darius away, he added:
“By the way, how’s Lorena doing?”
Darius froze. He could lie about Roman to save his skin, but Lorena made this a whole other story. As the guards took him to a cell, he could think of nothing but Lorena: her hair, her smile, and all the ways in which they could make her life miserable. When feeling finally returned to his fingers, even the pain did not distract him.
Darius slept badly that night. The guards woke him up regularly, and when they didn’t, he dreamed unrestfully. He woke up groggy and tired. A sparse breakfast was set out on the table in his cell. After he finished it, he sat down on the bed. A guard came in and told him he wasn’t allowed to, so he sat on the chair by the table. He hummed a little tune to pass the time, but once more, he wasn’t allowed to. There was nothing to do but wait as the minutes crawled by. A window in his cell looked out on the prison yard. They let him out for a while, but there was nothing to do outside either. The day seemed to last an eternity.
That night, Darius saw someone standing in the yard. The figure stood perfectly still, all features obscured by a dark trenchcoat and hat. And old-fashioned lantern stood at the mystery person’s feet, illuminating him with a flickering, yellow light. Darius blinked in surprise. When he looked down again, there was no-one to be seen.
Things didn’t get any better. Darius spent his days worrying about his girlfriend, and his nights trying to catch a precious few hours of sleep. After almost two weeks, the sleep-deprived monotony was broken. Darius was taken up for another round of questioning.
This time, some of the additional seats were taken. One of the occupants was a large, bald man. When Darius saw the other, he wanted to cry. A young woman with a delicate face and a waterfall of chestnut curls was sitting at the table.
Is that her? Is she helping them? Did they force her to? Was Lorena spying on me all along? Is that really her?
Darius didn’t even bother lying to them. Roman couldn’t be saved anymore, and if they had Lorena... If that really was her... Better to give up already.
Darius stood staring out of the cell window for a long time, trying to make some sense of what had happened. Had she really betrayed him? By the time the first stars appeared, he still didn’t know. A small light down in the yard eventually distracted him from this line of thought. It was the same figure he’d seen before, holding the lantern in its hand. This time, however, it seemed to be looking directly at him. After a few moments, the dark figure bowed its head slightly, as if showing respect, and took its hat off. By the shimmer of the burning oil, Darius could not see what lay beneath.
A slight breeze woke him up in the darkness. It took Darius a while to realize his cell wasn’t normally that drafty. He got out of bed, and slowly walked toward the door. Waving his hands around in front of him, he felt nothing. The door was open. By the faint light from the widely spaced windows, he could see the hallway was deserted. There was no sign of the guards anywhere. He heard slow footsteps echoing down an adjacent corridor. Around the corner, he could see a yellow, shimmering light moving toward him.
22/8/12
I realized how much of what happens never makes it into the media. This was the result. All around the world, life goes on. The revolution won‘t be televised until innocent bystanders start dying.
If a tree falls
If a tree falls
the networks will be around
to tell you all about it
Please move along now
there‘s everything to see
When a child is born
though you never hear
it makes a sound
When dark times come
you won‘t be there
but the sirens will sound
When change begins
you may never know
but it will make a sound
A world is happening out there;
don‘t let yourself be deafened
by the sound of one tree falling
the networks will be around
to tell you all about it
Please move along now
there‘s everything to see
When a child is born
though you never hear
it makes a sound
When dark times come
you won‘t be there
but the sirens will sound
When change begins
you may never know
but it will make a sound
A world is happening out there;
don‘t let yourself be deafened
by the sound of one tree falling
Criticism is welcome, flaming is not.
