Flash, Nolt

Nobody wins

And especially not me. Not ever. I mean I do score some points here and there, but it’s never a fully fledged victory. And I mean, you know, like, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not complaining. You know? Continue reading

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Flash, fragments

Rider of the lost art

It wasn’t until nine that day that they understood what had been going on. The people at the party seemed to be entertaining themselves enough for Maria to leave for a while. They were laughing and dancing and jumping all around, and for a fleeting moment she feared the whole floor would crumble and they would all fall down and die. Nothing of the sort happened, but a bunch of people were still missing. Or rather, they had failed to show up. Maria was known for throwing the biggest and baddest parties in town, she shouldn’t feel insulted by his absence, but somehow, she did. They’d met in a bar a few weeks ago, quite randomly. He had this weird look on his face, the puppy dog eyes she called it days after they had begun chatting. He wore sideburns and that gave him a seventies look she rather enjoyed. He looked like a huge teddy bear, she liked that too. He wasn’t much of a talker, but for some mysterious reason, she enjoyed his company. And when she had invited him, his shy smile seemed to mean yes, I will come and kiss you under some carefully placed mistletoe. But it was nine, and he was still missing. Continue reading

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Flash

Raw Material

Dinger downed his drink and burped loudly. No one ever dared say anything when he did that, he simply was too much to handle. It was true that, when he was keeping himself far from the bottle, he could be quite the nice fellow. But most days he essentially was a douchebag on wheels. His big greasy hand was still seizing Nadia’s arm and she, although smiling broadly, looked rather worried. There had been rumors about how he treated girls making the rounds, and each and every girl in the neighbourhood had sworn some kind of secret oath to avoid him at all cost. In reality, the fact of the matter was, some of them really needed the money, and however abusive he was, he always paid more than enough. Nick had heard all kinds of stories about Dinger, some bad and some worse, and he damn well knew that there was nothing else to do but wait. So everytime he saw the giant enter his little joint, his jaw tightened and he prayed internally for an impending apocalypse. Continue reading

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Flash, fragments

Intermittent Explosive Disorder

They made fun of Joseph, because of his name. And because of his ears too. He had big ears, they told him he could get satellite with it. He began to wear hats all the time, inside outside. Hats were the first shield he found, a cheap one, but effective most of the time. Then he told everyone to call him Joe. There was no more Joseph. Joseph was nothing but a nightmare, a pathetic sod, a poor excuse for a human being. That was what growing up meant to him, and when people laughed about these years, he did not. He watched over those years as a precious jewel, his own personal treasure. Continue reading

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Flash, fragments

Splinters

I’m tempted to write about how much this means to me. I really am. But then again, should I? I mean, who’s going to read to this? People are going to judge me? I don’t know. I feel terrible about all of this. And I can’t even begin to think about what “this” it. Strange, isn’t it? I know. The perks of being a human being. A man. A woman. A complicated walking thing. Yes, sucks. I know. But to be honest with you that wasn’t the point. Of all this I mean, of this nonsense. And not, the life part. That is a bigger nonsense that I couldn’t even try to put into words. Even images wouldn’t be accurate enough. No, what I mean is, gosh, where am I going with this? Well, okay. Let’s start again. Something happened recently. Something terrible, or something really good, depending on perspectives. And that’s the thing – I am both perspectives. I can’t say whether or not I’m pleased, or sad, or mad. Whatever. I can’t say anything anymore, about me, that is. And this, this impression, this feeling. This means a lot to me. Somewhere somehow, in a way, that’s what real freedom is. How? you’d ask. Well hold on a second. Close your apps and settle your phone down. Look at me and think. Just imagine you react to something without any preconceived moral, knowledge, rule of thumb or whatever the fuck, sorry, crossing that fuck out, or whatever else you could think of. Imagine reacting to something as if it was the first time you ever saw such a thing, as if you were back to being a child, not caring about oil, politics, psychopaths, cold pizza, whatever. Just imagine. Do you see what I mean? Continue reading

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