in heaven
everything is fine
in heaven
everything is fine
youve got your good things
and youve got mine
Sunday, 1 January 2012
In Heaven
in heaven
everything is fine
in heaven
everything is fine
youve got your good things
and youve got mine
Saturday, 24 December 2011
Thursday, 15 December 2011
Dying Ember
Dear dad,
Fire burns inside of us
Pale, limpid, or scorching red
And mummy was the crimson sunset
Because she would not listen
Because you
Because you would not listen to the bird and her word
It descended upon a mansion
Bathing hell
And burned, treasured memories
Troves of forgotten lore, carnality gone
Selfish, misbegotten waif in lair...
Had it not been for an argument
Had it not been
Had it not been a day in December
A young man from a bar with a car and an ember
I would not be, I would not have been as I am
I would not be...
Fire burns inside of us
Pale, limpid, or scorching red
And mummy was the crimson sunset
Because she would not listen
Because you
Because you would not listen to the bird and her word
It descended upon a mansion
Bathing hell
And burned, treasured memories
Troves of forgotten lore, carnality gone
Selfish, misbegotten waif in lair...
Had it not been for an argument
Had it not been
Had it not been a day in December
A young man from a bar with a car and an ember
I would not be, I would not have been as I am
I would not be...
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
Thursday, 8 December 2011
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Hoodwinked
I'm not sure if anyone can read this, I don't know where this entry will go when I hit "publish entry" when I'm done, for all I know it might disappear into nothingness just like my mind.
I don't know what is happening. I look back at my more recent entries where I ramble off like a lunatic, where I seem to forget everything I've ever learned about grammar and proper punctuation or how to use certain words, but oh things have gone far beyond mere schizophrenia now, I fear. Is it normal to suddenly fall in and out of third person? I can't remember these things ever happening. I remember writing but I don't recall doing so in third person. Why would I forget.
No one is answering me. No one's going to answer this, either. All of my other entries have gone unanswered, only the older ones have replies. They're there, mocking me of a time long since gone. Have people truly abandoned me, then? I guess that is for the best. They can feel the stench of sin in these written words, but it is not my sin that they fear the most - it simply reminds them of how much worse theirs are compared to mine.
Especially Mary. Oh I think you've fooled everyone including yourself. Everyone thinks you're pure. But we have seen how easily one can mould you; but there are not always an excuse to hide behind, are there. Who would seduce a man like Robbie, anyway? A man bordering on the line of mental retardation? I know how it is. I see the truth; I know what kind of person you are. Trying to take care of him as if he was your patient and quite frankly, from what I have seen, you are not very good at what you do. Then you drag him along on your quaint little adventures - if we can even call them that - without much concern for his safety. Oh yes, I know you're concerned for him, you're concerned for everyone in your surroundings. Say, are you concerned for me, still?
... You're not going to answer. Or if you do, I will not see it. Fine. I do not need any contact with anyone. But you are dense, Mary, if you think that having him cooped up in your apartment or anywhere else will help. In the end it will be too little, if he so much as looks upon the blank face of truth, then I fear he is gone; ah, but perhaps not, maybe his weak mind will think it to be only a dream and so he will eventually forget about it. Maybe he won't even be afraid.
Isn't that interesting, my friend? He won't be afraid, while you will shiver like a leaf at the very mention of His name.
I wish only to tell you that I do not hate you. I have said such spiteful things, but even my most foul words, even my abuse - I do it because I love you. It is because I love you that all the strange things happen to you, and it is the reason as to why I am so angry at you, as well.
I can see you, Mary. I can see you through the pages of my notebook, what you do in the day, how you toss and turn at night. You might want to try some sleeping pills but they do have side effects. I know.
I am able to read blog entries curiously enough, but not comments. I don't know whether to trust what I read or not though... everything is so slurred, so... hazy. Only my own words are clear to me, for the moment being. I fear this will not last long. If I'm not allowed to communicate through various tools found on the internet, then fine.
I don't know what is happening. I look back at my more recent entries where I ramble off like a lunatic, where I seem to forget everything I've ever learned about grammar and proper punctuation or how to use certain words, but oh things have gone far beyond mere schizophrenia now, I fear. Is it normal to suddenly fall in and out of third person? I can't remember these things ever happening. I remember writing but I don't recall doing so in third person. Why would I forget.
No one is answering me. No one's going to answer this, either. All of my other entries have gone unanswered, only the older ones have replies. They're there, mocking me of a time long since gone. Have people truly abandoned me, then? I guess that is for the best. They can feel the stench of sin in these written words, but it is not my sin that they fear the most - it simply reminds them of how much worse theirs are compared to mine.
Especially Mary. Oh I think you've fooled everyone including yourself. Everyone thinks you're pure. But we have seen how easily one can mould you; but there are not always an excuse to hide behind, are there. Who would seduce a man like Robbie, anyway? A man bordering on the line of mental retardation? I know how it is. I see the truth; I know what kind of person you are. Trying to take care of him as if he was your patient and quite frankly, from what I have seen, you are not very good at what you do. Then you drag him along on your quaint little adventures - if we can even call them that - without much concern for his safety. Oh yes, I know you're concerned for him, you're concerned for everyone in your surroundings. Say, are you concerned for me, still?
... You're not going to answer. Or if you do, I will not see it. Fine. I do not need any contact with anyone. But you are dense, Mary, if you think that having him cooped up in your apartment or anywhere else will help. In the end it will be too little, if he so much as looks upon the blank face of truth, then I fear he is gone; ah, but perhaps not, maybe his weak mind will think it to be only a dream and so he will eventually forget about it. Maybe he won't even be afraid.
Isn't that interesting, my friend? He won't be afraid, while you will shiver like a leaf at the very mention of His name.
I wish only to tell you that I do not hate you. I have said such spiteful things, but even my most foul words, even my abuse - I do it because I love you. It is because I love you that all the strange things happen to you, and it is the reason as to why I am so angry at you, as well.
I can see you, Mary. I can see you through the pages of my notebook, what you do in the day, how you toss and turn at night. You might want to try some sleeping pills but they do have side effects. I know.
I am able to read blog entries curiously enough, but not comments. I don't know whether to trust what I read or not though... everything is so slurred, so... hazy. Only my own words are clear to me, for the moment being. I fear this will not last long. If I'm not allowed to communicate through various tools found on the internet, then fine.
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Observer
It took a while, but now it has happened.
Andreas approached Alice with some hesitation and for a while it seemed like he was unable of finding the right words, but eventually the glue that held his lips together was dissolved, and thus he spoke; he had seen Him. He spoke not with the erratic fear of a leporine, however there was a decidedly overhanging fear in the room as he re-told his story. It had been a normal day (typical), he began, until he saw something standing outside one of the windows. Andreas had been peacefully rolling down the hall when he saw the stranger; an unknown man whom, he soon realised, he didn't want anything to do with. A blank face, tall, thin-- every detail fitting.
Nothing happened.
He blinked and the man in the suit was gone instantaneously. He had not told anyone, out of fear of being mocked, or told that he was delirious. Couldn't have a loony in a wheelchair out and about, now could we? They talked a bit while Alice contemplated whether she should tell him or not - but it was not such a hard decision.
"The Tailor?" he said. "That is an odd name."
Odd, perhaps, but is he not a tailor so say? Just like an author, a painter - creating, painting a scene; fabricating the characters, adding, deleting; sewing the whole story together with thread made out of sinew.
Alice told her friend that He had many names. We have many names for the things we love - or as we say in Swedish, "Kärt barn har många namn".
"There is no need to worry," she said. "He is merely observing."
Andreas approached Alice with some hesitation and for a while it seemed like he was unable of finding the right words, but eventually the glue that held his lips together was dissolved, and thus he spoke; he had seen Him. He spoke not with the erratic fear of a leporine, however there was a decidedly overhanging fear in the room as he re-told his story. It had been a normal day (typical), he began, until he saw something standing outside one of the windows. Andreas had been peacefully rolling down the hall when he saw the stranger; an unknown man whom, he soon realised, he didn't want anything to do with. A blank face, tall, thin-- every detail fitting.
Nothing happened.
He blinked and the man in the suit was gone instantaneously. He had not told anyone, out of fear of being mocked, or told that he was delirious. Couldn't have a loony in a wheelchair out and about, now could we? They talked a bit while Alice contemplated whether she should tell him or not - but it was not such a hard decision.
"The Tailor?" he said. "That is an odd name."
Odd, perhaps, but is he not a tailor so say? Just like an author, a painter - creating, painting a scene; fabricating the characters, adding, deleting; sewing the whole story together with thread made out of sinew.
Alice told her friend that He had many names. We have many names for the things we love - or as we say in Swedish, "Kärt barn har många namn".
"There is no need to worry," she said. "He is merely observing."
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Sunday, 25 September 2011
Fisk
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Friday, 5 August 2011
Fire
I just came home from work a little while ago. My dad called, saying my mother's dead. I got to go home early, I think my colleagues were shocked, probably told me how sorry they were but I didn't hear them.
Dad sounded so shaken up, never heard him like that before. Says that she was burned to a crisp in the office, the only thing remaining was her engagement ring and a pair of showy earrings – I always told her how ridiculous they looked – and no damage to the chair she was sitting in, no damage to anything could be seen.
I didn't want this to happen I swear to god...
Dad sounded so shaken up, never heard him like that before. Says that she was burned to a crisp in the office, the only thing remaining was her engagement ring and a pair of showy earrings – I always told her how ridiculous they looked – and no damage to the chair she was sitting in, no damage to anything could be seen.
I didn't want this to happen I swear to god...
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
The Past
18 June
Pain.
19 June
Crawling insects on the walls, sounds outside, screams. The wind occasionally blowing violently.
The pain subsiding.
20 June
Same.
21 June
Same.
22 June
The pain almost completely gone. Sometimes she gets what can best be described as "convulsions". Her body starts trembling without control for a while before it stops. No one has contacted her in these last few days, perhaps everyone is gone? Has the world changed?
Doesn't dare to look outside. Food is scarce.
23 June
So lonely. Looked outside; it's normal. Sunny, beautiful, with birds singing. If the birds sing it is all right. Still their presence bring her little consolation.
Pasta today.
24 June
Do not want to eat pasta anymore, but too tired to go out of the house. Too tired to get to civilisation.
Calls dad, tells him it's that time of the month. Of course he'll get her some supplies. Of course.
She doesn't want pasta. Of course she doesn't. He can make some good meat balls. Of course you can, daddy. Yes I remember when you did it a lot when I was a kid. Yes I know it was my favourite then. No, I don't know why I changed my taste.
Meat balls with potatoes is fine.
They eat, talk. Dad says she looks tired; yes, she knows. Has she taken a pain killer? Yes, she has.
Okay. Good bye.
25 June
Found the notebook in an unopened box from the move. As good as new, but with a new picture in it.
Who drew it?
Had leftovers.
26 June
Wondering if she should contact Andreas. Why hasn't he written anything?
27 June
Andreas replied saying he has been very ill for a while, says he's sorry for not informing her about it earlier. It's okay. Will there be a club meeting soon? No, most about everyone is on vacation. Brilliant. But they could do something together, just the two of them.
Yes, that'd be nice.
28 June
Hate making dinner.
29 June
Mother called randomly. It was nice in the beginning, but then some detail was brought up and everything went to hell.
They're not always going to be there to pay for things. Mummy and daddy can't help when they're dead. Does she plan on working in the library for the rest of her life? Can't get much money doing that! It doesn't matter if you like your profession, you've got to have money.
30 June
Angry and upset, but doesn't feel alone.
1 July
Met with Andreas today. Somehow looked shaggier than last time they met, nevertheless they walked through the woods looking and listening to the birds. Alice had told him about the library earlier, so he asked if she still enjoyed working there. Yes she did. Went to work every day - except for the two days when she had been in pain, oh, she hoped that wouldn't make them want to fire her. Andreas didn't think so. He would like to come visit her in the library.
2 July
Thought she saw something moving in the darkness. It's easier to sleep with company.
3 July
Hallucinations all night long.
Why.
4 July
The birds aren't singing.
5 July
A putrid smell in the house... smells like smoke. Again. But there is nothing.
Found a new picture.
Pain.
19 June
Crawling insects on the walls, sounds outside, screams. The wind occasionally blowing violently.
The pain subsiding.
20 June
Same.
21 June
Same.
22 June
The pain almost completely gone. Sometimes she gets what can best be described as "convulsions". Her body starts trembling without control for a while before it stops. No one has contacted her in these last few days, perhaps everyone is gone? Has the world changed?
Doesn't dare to look outside. Food is scarce.
23 June
So lonely. Looked outside; it's normal. Sunny, beautiful, with birds singing. If the birds sing it is all right. Still their presence bring her little consolation.
Pasta today.
24 June
Do not want to eat pasta anymore, but too tired to go out of the house. Too tired to get to civilisation.
Calls dad, tells him it's that time of the month. Of course he'll get her some supplies. Of course.
She doesn't want pasta. Of course she doesn't. He can make some good meat balls. Of course you can, daddy. Yes I remember when you did it a lot when I was a kid. Yes I know it was my favourite then. No, I don't know why I changed my taste.
Meat balls with potatoes is fine.
They eat, talk. Dad says she looks tired; yes, she knows. Has she taken a pain killer? Yes, she has.
Okay. Good bye.
25 June
Found the notebook in an unopened box from the move. As good as new, but with a new picture in it.
Who drew it?
Had leftovers.
26 June
Wondering if she should contact Andreas. Why hasn't he written anything?
27 June
Andreas replied saying he has been very ill for a while, says he's sorry for not informing her about it earlier. It's okay. Will there be a club meeting soon? No, most about everyone is on vacation. Brilliant. But they could do something together, just the two of them.
Yes, that'd be nice.
28 June
Hate making dinner.
29 June
Mother called randomly. It was nice in the beginning, but then some detail was brought up and everything went to hell.
They're not always going to be there to pay for things. Mummy and daddy can't help when they're dead. Does she plan on working in the library for the rest of her life? Can't get much money doing that! It doesn't matter if you like your profession, you've got to have money.
30 June
Angry and upset, but doesn't feel alone.
1 July
Met with Andreas today. Somehow looked shaggier than last time they met, nevertheless they walked through the woods looking and listening to the birds. Alice had told him about the library earlier, so he asked if she still enjoyed working there. Yes she did. Went to work every day - except for the two days when she had been in pain, oh, she hoped that wouldn't make them want to fire her. Andreas didn't think so. He would like to come visit her in the library.
2 July
Thought she saw something moving in the darkness. It's easier to sleep with company.
3 July
Hallucinations all night long.
Why.
4 July
The birds aren't singing.
5 July
A putrid smell in the house... smells like smoke. Again. But there is nothing.
Found a new picture.
Friday, 15 July 2011
Friday, 17 June 2011
languid
i must write this down quickly because i dont think i can fight against the pain for very long. im sorry for my lack of capital letters and whatnot but i cant stand being on the computer for long
each time i press down a key it hurts. my eyes can barely take the light coming from the screen. there is a little bit of sun coming in through the window despite the fold and the currtains and it burns my skin
i went to sleep late last night im off work today but i had been feeling bad for an hour or so before going to bed... like i was coming down with a cold or something but i dont know i dont think its a cold it cant be
i fell asleep quickly enough as if my body and mind couldnt wait to be thrown into unconchessness
it was like a fever dream minus the fever. it was so dark and filled with things so abstract i cant give them any proper names and oh my finger hurts ah maybe they will have to cut it off, amputate, but but im sorry. all i know is that it was dark and menacing. that i know for sure. then then something emerged from the darkness
pale and white and somewhat like the light at the end of the tunnel
only it wasnt light but a white face and long, thin arms with hands of the same hue as the face and when he stretched them out after me i approached without feeling any fear without feeling anything until i had him embrace me and i tried to embrace him but
but it doesnt work
it didnt work
i had been ushered into his arms by some invisible dream force but it was not meant to be. a human cannot simply touch that it is not possible
every pore in my body seemed to open only to get needles inserted in them. like like needles into my every pore. all over my body. inwards and outwards tongue eyes lips forehead hands nails arms feet back lungs ears brain legs everywhere
im not scared
each time i press down a key it hurts. my eyes can barely take the light coming from the screen. there is a little bit of sun coming in through the window despite the fold and the currtains and it burns my skin
i went to sleep late last night im off work today but i had been feeling bad for an hour or so before going to bed... like i was coming down with a cold or something but i dont know i dont think its a cold it cant be
i fell asleep quickly enough as if my body and mind couldnt wait to be thrown into unconchessness
it was like a fever dream minus the fever. it was so dark and filled with things so abstract i cant give them any proper names and oh my finger hurts ah maybe they will have to cut it off, amputate, but but im sorry. all i know is that it was dark and menacing. that i know for sure. then then something emerged from the darkness
pale and white and somewhat like the light at the end of the tunnel
only it wasnt light but a white face and long, thin arms with hands of the same hue as the face and when he stretched them out after me i approached without feeling any fear without feeling anything until i had him embrace me and i tried to embrace him but
but it doesnt work
it didnt work
i had been ushered into his arms by some invisible dream force but it was not meant to be. a human cannot simply touch that it is not possible
every pore in my body seemed to open only to get needles inserted in them. like like needles into my every pore. all over my body. inwards and outwards tongue eyes lips forehead hands nails arms feet back lungs ears brain legs everywhere
im not scared
Wednesday, 15 June 2011
Mary's Lamb
Mary had a little lamb its fleece was white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go.
It followed her to school one day, which was against the rule;
It made the children laugh and play, to see a lamb at school.
And so the teacher turned it out, but still it lingered near,
And waited patiently about till Mary did appear.
"Why does the lamb love Mary so?" the eager children cry;
"Why, Mary loves the lamb, you know" the teacher did reply.
It was nice being invited for tea on such a lovely day as this. Alice had missed going out to watch and photograph birds together with the club, even though she still visited Andreas from time to time when the weather was less than favourable. People talked just as much as they used to, Alice saying a few words here and there, smiling and laughing along without letting them know what was going on. She looked down at the cute little teacup, listening intently to what it said and finding its words far more interesting compared to those of the people around her; perhaps it was only because it was so very much more interesting to listen to a teacup rather to a human. It was not every day one got to listen to a teacup's point of view, you know. Though, it only had one ear, so how much could it really have to talk about?
A lot, Alice found out. Its name was Lisa. How curious, she had never thought that Lisa was a particularly good name for a teacup... then again, she had never really considered what names would be good for things such as teacups at all! Sadly, she could not speak to the poor thing, since it would be viewed as strange behaviour. No matter. Alice could easily distract herself long enough in the presence of others. Besides, they weren't very clever. Perhaps Andreas would be able to figure out that something was wrong, as he had shown concern for Alice just a few minutes before but she had said she was fine. And he believed her. For why shouldn't he?
Friday, 3 June 2011
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
Discovery
The library finally received a couple of guests today, consisting of a decrepit couple and a random teenager, wanting to use one of the library's computers. The couple, or more specifically the old man, requested to borrow a book that had to be around his own age, saying that he had been unable to find it in its usual spot. Always the diligent and trustworthy clerk, Alice immediately (it wasn't like she had anything better to do) went in search for the book in an area where they put away the literature that seldom got borrowed or even looked at. Usually the books that were placed here were put on tables near the entrance and sold cheaply after a while, but the ones that lay on the messy shelf today were to be thrown away or possibly saved by some sentimental staff member. The old man's book was there. It was thick with loose pages, and as Alice picked it up something fell out of it and drifted down onto the floor.
At first she thought it had been a couple of pages from the book itself, but the paper was much too small. Picking it up she noticed that it was notes of some sort written, sloppily, by hand and in old Swedish. Though it started abruptly, it wasn't too hard to read, even if it was evident that the person who had written it had been under stress judging by a few misspellings and crossed out words. Why the pages had been tucked into the book Alice didn't know, it was as if someone had wanted her to find them, it was all planned.
The book itself had nothing to do with the pages, as it seemed to be a book about botany. Alice went back to the couple, handing the book to the old man while telling him that he'd been lucky as the book would have been thrown out soon.
At first she thought it had been a couple of pages from the book itself, but the paper was much too small. Picking it up she noticed that it was notes of some sort written, sloppily, by hand and in old Swedish. Though it started abruptly, it wasn't too hard to read, even if it was evident that the person who had written it had been under stress judging by a few misspellings and crossed out words. Why the pages had been tucked into the book Alice didn't know, it was as if someone had wanted her to find them, it was all planned.
The book itself had nothing to do with the pages, as it seemed to be a book about botany. Alice went back to the couple, handing the book to the old man while telling him that he'd been lucky as the book would have been thrown out soon.
[...] om det fanns något så skulle de icke ha återvänt, så det hvar blott en illusion, en vålnad som deras trötta hufvuden, deras stackars sinnen, hade skapat. Hvarför är det då så, att mina och deras dagar ter sig så långa, så fyllda med fruktan, detta på grund af något som ej finnes till?
Men jag känner att jag tvingas skrifva ner detta, därför att det finnes tecken att Han finnes på riktigt. Jag tillkännagifver detta endast för att vi, mig och mannarna, hava haft liknande drömmar – alla unika, bortsett från ett par detaljer, dessa detaljer som får oss att vandra omkring med spända muskler. Han har ett vitt, blankt ansikte, helt utan ögon eller mun eller näsa. Flera meter lång. Mer än två. Tre, fyra, fem... ibland tio. Ibland med fler än två armar, ibland med vad en af männen beskriver som ”tentakler”. Han bär alltid svarta kläder. Men äfven bortom drömmarna har Han visat sig.
Till mig kom Han med en svart cylinder på sitt skalliga hufvud. Jag gick på stigen på väg till byn efter att ha tagit en kort promenad, och där stod Han på toppen utaf kullen. Äfven om Hans ansikte var naket, så kunde jag urskilja att Han tittade ut öfver skogen. Han hade märkt mig, men det tog ett tag innan Han kunde skänka mig en blick (jag har just beskrivit hur Han inte hade några ögon, men hur annars skall jag beskriva det...?), och när Han väl gjorde det hann jag önska att Han hade fortsatt stirra ut öfver skogen då jag föll baklänges medan världen blev svart. Hela tiden hörde jag ett ringande i mina öron.
Tids nog vaknade jag upp i mitt hem. Min morbror hade kommit gåendes på vägen – jag frågade honom aldrig om han hade sett samma man på kullen, han vet ingenting om det här, och jag kommer att hålla han och så många andra som möjligt utanför det här – då han såg mig ligga utslagen på gruset. Han sade att han hade tagit sig en titt på mig, för att se så att jag inte vart skadad, men enligt honom så vart jag frisk som en nötkärna. Jag gav honom en dålig ursäkt, sade att jag hade jobbat för mycket nyligen, och han gick på det.
Men alla har inte lika stor tur som jag. En utav oss har mist sitt lif, två är försvunna. Innan de försvann, så började Erik långsamt förlora sin skrifvförmåga och började istället skrifva ner koder, över allt annat föredrog han att kommunicera via morse. Han skrefv ner koderna eller knackade i vad helst han hade att knacka i. Jag kommer fortfarande ihåg vad han sade en dag då jag satt på uthuset. ”Träden kommer, träden kommer, träd, träd, de kommer, träd kommer.” Han höll på med detta i flera minuter, och jag vart tvungen att skynda mig för att hindra honom från att slå sin näfve blodig mot väggen.
Karl säger mig att koderna är det enda sätt de kan kommunicera på. Jag undrade hvarför, och han sade att de hade blivit galna. Det förstår jag, det förstår vi alla.
Ändock är jag förvirrad.
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Tracing Back
The jackdaws gathering outside the library in small, dysfunctional groups stared at the few people who dared go too close to their turf - perhaps they wouldn't have bothered chasing after the humans, who only furrowed their brows while swearing under their breaths or laughing merrily at the stupid birds, if it hadn't been for the fact that they had discovered some long since rotten food in one of the waste bins near the library's entrance. The black orbs surrounded by the bright white would stare at any possible threat, and any normal person would foolishly discard their gazes without much other thought than how "mindless" they seemed. Alice, however, did not think ill of the feathered creatures, and as she strode over to the door they hurriedly made a passage for her without throwing any suspicious glances at her.
To expect the small library to have any sort of guests at this hour - or any hour, really - was foolish, but the atmosphere in there was even more desolate than it had been before. One could sense this merely by feeling the chilly air against one's cheeks, or by listening to the monotonous ticking of one clock. Despite this the library wasn't completely deserted, there was a clerk on the other side of the counter, looking up expectantly when she heard the sound of someone entering the only quiet safe haven that was left in the ever expanding small town. Her smile was radiant but there was a desperation lingering in the corners of her mouth.
"Oh, you're Alice, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"I'm glad you could come! We're happy - well, really, it's only me and one other... but he's going to retire next month, you see. So I'm happy to see you. It's really refreshing to see someone so young take such a strong interest in literature," said the nervous, talkative woman, who could only be about thirty herself, "I wish more would."
There was a short pause that could have grown awkward over time when the clerk took her time to gaze out over the library's empty corridors with melancholia shining in her eyes. But since there was no time for daydreaming she soon came to her senses, talking fast as ever.
"As you know, you're going to be hired for a couple of months, then we'll see whether we'll want to keep you or not," she said with a smile. "To be honest, I don't think there'll be any question about it. There's no competition for you and we need another employee, despite our lack of customers."
Alice seemed to nod to the rhythm of the clock's ticking, not saying anything but mimicking the clerk's smile perfectly. Apparently it was working, as the woman, who had given off the impression of being somewhat tense despite her rapid words and smiling mouth, finally relaxed.
The jackdaws still remained outside, but had now taken their seats on the roof of the building or perched themselves on the branches of the spring trees. Pausing in their squabbles in order to focus on the happenings below them, watching the one girl with their odd eyes as if she was an actor in some well-renowned play, they moved slightly, turning their heads sideways while stretching their black necks in hope to get a better view. The exciting actions that Alice performed was going to the bus stop and waiting a few minutes for the bus to arrive, then stepping onto it and getting a seat towards the front of the oil-smelling bus.
To expect the small library to have any sort of guests at this hour - or any hour, really - was foolish, but the atmosphere in there was even more desolate than it had been before. One could sense this merely by feeling the chilly air against one's cheeks, or by listening to the monotonous ticking of one clock. Despite this the library wasn't completely deserted, there was a clerk on the other side of the counter, looking up expectantly when she heard the sound of someone entering the only quiet safe haven that was left in the ever expanding small town. Her smile was radiant but there was a desperation lingering in the corners of her mouth.
"Oh, you're Alice, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"I'm glad you could come! We're happy - well, really, it's only me and one other... but he's going to retire next month, you see. So I'm happy to see you. It's really refreshing to see someone so young take such a strong interest in literature," said the nervous, talkative woman, who could only be about thirty herself, "I wish more would."
There was a short pause that could have grown awkward over time when the clerk took her time to gaze out over the library's empty corridors with melancholia shining in her eyes. But since there was no time for daydreaming she soon came to her senses, talking fast as ever.
"As you know, you're going to be hired for a couple of months, then we'll see whether we'll want to keep you or not," she said with a smile. "To be honest, I don't think there'll be any question about it. There's no competition for you and we need another employee, despite our lack of customers."
Alice seemed to nod to the rhythm of the clock's ticking, not saying anything but mimicking the clerk's smile perfectly. Apparently it was working, as the woman, who had given off the impression of being somewhat tense despite her rapid words and smiling mouth, finally relaxed.
The jackdaws still remained outside, but had now taken their seats on the roof of the building or perched themselves on the branches of the spring trees. Pausing in their squabbles in order to focus on the happenings below them, watching the one girl with their odd eyes as if she was an actor in some well-renowned play, they moved slightly, turning their heads sideways while stretching their black necks in hope to get a better view. The exciting actions that Alice performed was going to the bus stop and waiting a few minutes for the bus to arrive, then stepping onto it and getting a seat towards the front of the oil-smelling bus.
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
The mornings had gradually become brighter for each day that had passed, and today the sun-rays fell through the curtains with a sickening glee. They tickled Alice's eyelids, annoying her until she simply had to open her eyes and face the day ahead of her. She sat up, her body stiff, while looking over her shoulder at the curtains.
Have to fix it. No sunlight.
Usually the birds sing at this hour but today they were silent. Resting. It took a while before the bathroom's fluorescent light flickered on, and when it finally did it proceeded to make a very faint, albeit sharp sound. Alice could hear it but didn't think much of it at first, it was just one of the many background noises she had grown accustomed to. The mirror, although new, had already begun to gather some dirt but it was not yet enough to bother Alice - perhaps the thought of cleaning the window wouldn't cross her mind until the specks of dust, pieces of old, dried out toothpaste and the remnants of squeezed pimples covered it completely--
Window.
She stared at herself. The bags beneath her eyes looked heavy, no wonder that people stared. But her eyes - the windows inside the window - seemed to live a life of their own, twitching every now and then. Alice raised a hand in order to make it stop but the motion was interrupted by something coming into view behind her. A dark blur moved through the room and in the blink of an eye there was something light sitting on her shoulder. If it hadn't been for the fact that she soon felt a sharp pain in her right shoulder, she would have claimed that she had barely felt the weight of the creature at all. Alice looked at its twin in the mirror. It kept tilting its head from left to right and then back again. Eventually it, the mirror image, moved closer to her ear, leaning in as if it was about to whisper a secret. Her eyes widened slightly when it opened its ebony beak and she saw something that she at first thought to be a tongue slithering out of it, but there were more than one.
Nevermore.
Have to fix it. No sunlight.
Usually the birds sing at this hour but today they were silent. Resting. It took a while before the bathroom's fluorescent light flickered on, and when it finally did it proceeded to make a very faint, albeit sharp sound. Alice could hear it but didn't think much of it at first, it was just one of the many background noises she had grown accustomed to. The mirror, although new, had already begun to gather some dirt but it was not yet enough to bother Alice - perhaps the thought of cleaning the window wouldn't cross her mind until the specks of dust, pieces of old, dried out toothpaste and the remnants of squeezed pimples covered it completely--
Window.
She stared at herself. The bags beneath her eyes looked heavy, no wonder that people stared. But her eyes - the windows inside the window - seemed to live a life of their own, twitching every now and then. Alice raised a hand in order to make it stop but the motion was interrupted by something coming into view behind her. A dark blur moved through the room and in the blink of an eye there was something light sitting on her shoulder. If it hadn't been for the fact that she soon felt a sharp pain in her right shoulder, she would have claimed that she had barely felt the weight of the creature at all. Alice looked at its twin in the mirror. It kept tilting its head from left to right and then back again. Eventually it, the mirror image, moved closer to her ear, leaning in as if it was about to whisper a secret. Her eyes widened slightly when it opened its ebony beak and she saw something that she at first thought to be a tongue slithering out of it, but there were more than one.
Nevermore.
Friday, 15 April 2011
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
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