Little Robbie woke up very early today because his stomach is rumbling like a wild beast. He rubs his tummy and hops to the cabinet across the room. He opens the door and pale of winds bursts in knocking him off his big fluffy feet. He forgot that in the spring a boar broke into his house while running after a naughty hedgehog who stole his apple. The boar landed right in Little Robbie’s cabinet leaving a whole as big as Little Robbie in there.
Robbie meant to fix that a few times but he’s not the best carpenter in town so he ended up sharing his cabinet with little creature who would crawl inside looking for a place to sleep over the night.
Little Robbie gets back on his feet, closes the cabinet’s door and hops around the room checking all the drawers and cabinets. Unfortunately there is no food left anywhere in his little house. He would do anything for a tasty carrot right now so he puts on his boots and scarf and ventures outside in the cold to hunt for his favourite vegetable.
He knows exactly where to find the most tasty and juicy carrots in the ares but that field is guarded by Garon, the hound, who’s always prepared to face any invasions from hungry rabbits.
Little Robbie hops to the edge of the carrots field carefully measuring his steps making sure he doesn’t make one sound. He wants to hide in the tall, bushy grass so he grabs his long ears and ties them together under his chin. Slowly sneaking in while holding his breath he reaches an invisible paw and grabs a carrot. Stomping on his feet he pulls as hard as he can; the carrot comes out and knocks him over. Luckily Little Robbie has a fluffy tail so he doesn’t get hurt.
Scared that his fall might have caused too much noise he bolts off in a second and only stops in front of his house panting heavily. His heart beat strongly like trying to rip off his chest and continue running.
Little Robbie looks at the carrot in his paw and and smiles: the fight was over and he had won this time.
A photograph: an inanimate piece of your life, a memory stuck into a piece of paper that will forever keep that image alive for you.
She holds it in her right hand her arm hanging by her body, immobilised but relaxed. She raises her arm a little making me think she will take another look at the photo but her arm falls heavy by the side of her thigh.
I don’t know what to do or say. I just sit in a huge armchair feeling even smaller than I usually am and wishing I was invisible. I didn’t see this coming. Though what do I matter here? It’s about how she feels, I am just a mere witness. I wish I could do something to help her, sooth her pain. But what do I know? This is the first time I ever saw her in my life and by the look of her face I don’t even know if she’s pleased by the news or not. I know I would be. Finding out that the maniac who mentally tortured me for months was finally captured would bring me so much pleasure I’d jump up and down laughing like a lunatic.
She’s not moving from that spot. Maybe it’s because she’s having conflicting feelings. Some victims actually get depressed when they get these news. Even though it’s something they’ve been waiting for and wishing for so ardently, when it really happens they get lost and start regretting their charge even to the point where they feel guilty for it as a second thought: what if that person is innocent? Innocent?! You know it was that person. You saw him doing all the things he did to you and YOU were the one in pain, suffering, screaming, begging for your freedom. How can they have second thoughts? I would kill that motherfucker without even a blink of an eye.
I started learning French in second grade when I was 8 and continued with it for another 15 years.
The first novel I ever read when I was 9 is by a French author: Alexandre Dumas „The Three Musketeers”. Amazing book for that age! I continued reading Alexandre Dumas because he was so captivating and fun. His stories always took me back into a world that no longer existed and that only made me want to know more about it. France and French people were so interesting portrayed through his eyes.
The history, the art, the culture, the politics, the philosophy, I enjoyed everything about this place. I actually got a minor in French; my interest went all the way to University to study their language and literature.
I love French writers! They are so deep and meaningful and fun and intrinsic. Not to mention their movies! They truly are one of the most creative nations on Earth.
I’ve always admired everything that came out of their hands. One of my favourite writers is French of course, that’s Sartre.
The funny thing is that I never got to visit France. I’ve always wanted to but I didn’t really come about it. I wondered how was it that I didn’t make it a priority and I got to the conclusion that I have such a beautiful vision about this place and I have studied their history, art, literature, language and culture to the point where I am afraid the reality will destroy my beautiful fantasies about it. Or it might just live up to the expectation. I should definitely find out soon rather than later.
The first time I ever had a coconut was by the beach in a city called Penang in Malaysia. This is one of those places where you can find coconuts sold by the side of the road; they drink coconut, they eat it, they make cakes with it, they use it a lot in their daily lives.
I’ve seen my friends drinking coconut quite often but I was never really keen on trying it. Until that beautiful evening on the beach bar watching a sky full of stars guarding the sea. It just seemed like the perfect time for an exotic drink.
The first sip was quite horrible; very watery but slightly sour and oily. I didn’t enjoy it much but I drank it either way wandering how people can drink that every day.
Then I found out that only one coconut can replenish your daily water level. As in one coconut is as much as 2 litres of water. So I decided to have this miraculous drink again as it’s so healthy.
The next time I bought a coconut thinking I would be able to cut it myself but that was a challenge I was not prepared for. I chopped wood in my life but a coconut is another type of wood that cannot be cut with a normal kitchen knife. Anyone would know this but not me.
I struggled with that coconut until I managed to poke a hole in it enough to get the water out to drink it. That was the first and last time I ever tried to cut a coconut by myself. Nowadays I just go to the market or any food place/bar and ask for it. I still cannot say I enjoy the taste but I push myself to drink it just because it’s healthy.
Carmen sits at her working desk in front of the window, opens her laptop and hopes that today will be one of those days when her muse drops by for longer visit.
She’s been trying for over a month to finish this chapter but nothing seems to inspire her to get over this damn block. Her muse has taken a longer time off than ever. She never had more than a couple of days without writing but now it’s been more than 3 weeks since she’s written a page. And as the time passes she’s getting more and more anxious to the point where alcohol is not putting her to sleep anymore.
But today will be different. She stares at the blank page wondering if she should read the last few pages or not. She starts her first sentence but she gets interrupted by a knock on the door.
„Not now!” she mutters angry and stands up walking towards the hallway.
Another knock on the door.
She opens the door and there’s a funny looking fella with a bouquet of flowers.
„Yes, that’s me.”
„This is for you. Sign here please.”
She takes the paper and pen, scribbles her signature and grabs the flowers.
„Have a nice day!”
She looks at the flowers wondering where they’re from. She finds a card and opens it: „Remember there will always be days when the sun is gone and everything seems dark. On those days just turn on your lamp and pretend it’s the sun. Your muse”.
„What a funny note.” Carmen says out loud. What does it mean? And who could have sent it?
She puts the flowers in a vase still wondering where they came from. She walks towards her study thinking about the message on the card. She notices the lamp on her desk and all of a sudden she has an urge to turn it on. She pushes the button but the lamp is dead. Looking to see if it was plugged in she goes under her desk and pulls the cord from under a pile of papers and notebooks. One of them unfolds and she curiously looks at the page. It was one of the stories she wrote a few years before. She cribs under the desk and starts to read. After a few pages she stops and crawls from under her desk with the notebook still in her hands.
She now knew where the flowers were from.
He opens his eyes and looks around. Not much to see as he’s in a very small space, all crawled up, his limbs hurting like crazy. He tries to stretch but there’s no room for his legs to spread. And his antennae are tickling his back.
A few shy sun rays are gently penetrating his small prison. The light covers him like a drape of silk. He wants to feel the warmth of the sun from up close. He grins and pushes hard with his legs until his small room cracks and his legs are free. He moves his toes and feels the ground a little too harsh for his liking. But the sun feels nice and warm so he struggles to put all his power into spreading his wings hoping he will be able to free himself.
The walls of his room crack and he finds himself standing straight in the light of the sun.
„Uh, it’s too hot” he thinks. He stretches his body and spreads his wings widely. You can now see him in his whole beauty: a tiny slim body covered in yellow fluff, beautiful long and elegant antennae and a pair of gorgeous blue and green wings. He flatters his wings a few times and spreads a very thin layer of coloured fairy dust.
He takes a look at his prison and wonders how he got there. He doesn’t remember anything. Who put him in there and why?
He looks around worried the person might be around and he might get caught again. Not waiting for another second he spreads his wings and flies off but his body is not yet ready to take a long journey. He stops on the first branch wondering at the beauty around him. He notices some green looking creatures crawling on the branch munching on leaves. Curious he gets closer to them and notices another one of those prison kind of things he was just trapped in. Without any hesitance he flies straight there and starts pulling the threads with his legs thinking there might be someone trapped inside. He pulls with all his might but the prison won’t break. He flaps and flaps and pulls and pushes until the tiny white round prison falls from the branch splashing the ground into a mould of gross green looking mush.
Terrified, the beautiful butterfly rushes away. If only he would have know what a cocoon was…
She squeezed her teddy bear stronger and continued walking. Shivering lips were inaudibly mumbling something in the teddy bear’s ear. I couldn’t hear hear what she said but I continued to follow her in silence making sure she did not see me.
While passing by a lamp post I finally could take a better look at her. She was walking so slowly and somehow limping. Under the damp light I could notice she was barefooted and severely hurt. She wasn’t bleeding but her feet were full of blisters and almost purple. She stopped for a second and squeezed her teddy bear again. Just a few meters away from her I stopped as well afraid she would notice me and get scared. As I was holding my breath I felt my heart suddenly cramped and a sudden burst of tears came out of nowhere as I heard her telling her teddy bear:
„Don’t worry Bo, I’ll keep you warm.”
I looked again at her injured feet and her shivering small body. And then I saw my shadow big and thick from all the layers of warm clothes and instantly took of my sweater and walked towards her. My heavy steps startled her. She turned around and looked at me terrified. She tried to run away but she slipped on the ice. I manage to catch her on time. I wanted to ask her so many questions but she was so scared and trying so hard to release herself from my arms that all I could do was to just cover her with my sweater tying it around her shoulders right before she escaped and ran off quickly grabbing her teddy bear from the snow.
The sweater was flapping behind her and all I could think was that at least she’ll have some sort of a blanket for the night.