mandag den 23. februar 2015


Every time I wake up, I'm in a different room. None of the rooms are identical, but they all share some similarities. There's always a door, and it's always locked. There's always a window, also locked. The window cannot be broken. Sometimes I wake up on a bed, sometimes on the floor.

Today, the room is small. Twelve feet across, ceiling low enough that I can touch it with my fingertips. The walls must have been white once, but the peeling plaster have turned a sickly yellow with age. The door looks just as old. Dark wood, slightly warped, with a rusty metal handle. I get up from the damp, moldy bed and try the door's handle. It doesn't budge, but I don't expect it to.

I peer out the small window and see an exact replica of my own room, as if I were looking in from the outside. This has happened before, and I move away quickly before The Other appears.

I pace back and forth as I usually do, deep in my own thoughts. The only way to make time pass is to keep myself occupied. Five strides, turn, five strides, turn. I do this for hours until I spot something out of the corner of my eye. My guts freeze, but I keep pacing. I try to ignore the face pressed up against the window. I try to ignore the eyes that follow my every move.

lørdag den 1. november 2014

OneWord #47 - Takeoff

"Zulu-2 is ready for takeoff, command."
"You are cleared for launch, Zulu-2. Godspeed."
The commander flipped the switch, and enough power to blow up New York sent him and his ship hurdling towards Jupiter.

torsdag den 30. oktober 2014

OneWord #46 - Gentleman

He was a gentleman, through and through. I mean, yeah, sure, he beat up women and drank too much and was an absolute bastard to everyone he met. He had nothing to offer the world. But he was a gentleman, God damn it.

søndag den 26. oktober 2014

OneWord #45 - Fishing

His hand shot out and batted a large salmon out of the river. It flew through the air and flopped wetly onto the ground, where his wife stabbed it through the neck with a stone dagger.

fredag den 24. oktober 2014

OneWord #44 - Souvenir

"That's what you brought me as a souvenir?" Lucy asked, backing away slowly. "A live king cobra?"
"His name's Rascal," Jill said brightly.

mandag den 20. oktober 2014

OneWord #43 - Steadfast

He stood as a rock, unmoving in the face of extreme opposition. His shield, thick. His sword, sharp. He held the pass for five days before the army before him broke.

101 Words - Bird

   "I'm like a biiiird," Joe Little sang under his breath, sweat running down his ruddy face as he worked at the lock. "I'll only fly awaaaay. I don't know where my soul is, I don't-"
   "Enough with the fucking Nelly Furtado!" Hissed Jimmy Big. "I pay you to pick locks, so fucking do it."
   "My therapist told me to sing when I get anxious. I get ulcers, y'know."
   "You'll get my goddamn boot in your ass," Jimmy said, veins throbbing angrily in his temples. "If you don't shut up and do your fucking job."
   Silence, momentarily.
   "...know where my home is."