To be or not be salad. ~ a seed
Organically growing things is perhaps one of the most satisfying things. It reminds me that forcing decisions top-down will never work. That no matter your plans, growth is only possible when connections are created between things, between people, that are based on mutual recognition. That foster truth and honesty. That allow for openness and diversity.
Some seeds may be planted with good intentions, but when given soil full of fear and anger and distrust, it will never grow to the full potential. And it is up to us, in our daily lives, to distinguish between what deserves our intention, our effort of feeding, of watering, the seeds that were planted in the right way. It’s not always easy to let go of places that are full of nice intentions that are thwarted by characters, by emotions.
Yet sometimes, seeds you plant, do yield results you didn’t think were possible. Like the ones I planted before I left to Shanghai, two months ago. And which were cared for by a loved one while I was away.
It takes time. And sun. And water. Patience. But with assemblage of the right ingredients, with the absence of one or two subversive parts that counteract the effort of the rest, it is possible to enjoy something that is so much more than what you had considered possible. I wish every project that starts out for all the right reasons, would be able to make sure they have all these elements in place. So it will thrive.
And yes. This is not about salad. (Although the salad is not a lie.)
A short fiction story by Nicole des Bouvrie. Can something be good, when you do it for no reason?
It wasn’t easy. Life was never really going to make things easy, was it?
Lara walked among the flowers and felt sad. So many beautiful flowers. So many colours. And every time she thought she had found the most beautiful one, she looked up and found another one that had just that little extra something. How was she ever going to choose?
Continue reading “The Girl and the Leprechaun :: Original Short Story”
It wasn’t me, I swear
It just fell from the sky
Right next to me
Falling through layers of air
A loud thumb
Sealed its fate
Or perhaps it was
After sixteen years
Of sleep it screamed
In agony over life
Now it lies here
Body intact, soul astray
Food for thought
I recently found out that cicadas spend 16 years under ground, asleep or hatching or whatever they call growing down there. I only knew them as the screamingly loud animals keeping me from my sleep. But now I understand. The shock of light and the fighting for survival would be enough reason to scream of agony.
Rest in peace, dear cicada.
And thank you for not dropping dead right on my head.
“Are you there?” Bob held his head very still, making sure to not make any sound. Even the slightest rush of blood could make him miss their answer.
Bob looked out of the window. Across the street the neighbour woman was watering the plants at her balcony. Again. Not that he was complaining. She was a treat to look at. Long blond hair. Great rack. And lately she had been wearing these tight skirts that left him wondering about more than just how much water those plants actually needed. But still. He’d prefer to have neighbours not looking into his house at all times of the day.
Bob jumped out of his chair. Freaking heavenly father. He was right. “Marcy! It’s happening again!”
Continue reading “The Probe :: Original Short Story”
Serious writing requires serious support.
So… you would like to make (more) money with writing things. Sure. Easy peasy. Right?
Well, maybe it’s not that easy. Earning steem is nice, obviously. But it is also pretty unpredictable. At least it is less predictable than the amount of rent you need to pay each month. And let’s not forget the electricity bills, and all those other things that pile up. Living is expensive.
So I’d like to introduce to you: Steady. A tool used by quite some online writers and online magazines to get a steady flow of support.
Continue reading “Are you ready for Steady? For when you’re serious about writing”
Sometimes you need less than 300 words to sketch a world, an idea, some characters going through something. I love it when that happens.
“I’m sorry my mother yelled at you.”
“It’s okay. I’m a guest, but I can help set the table for dinner.”
Roger looks at his friend. Perhaps he shouldn’t have invited him to his home. His mother had not been herself ever since his grandfather died. But he knew she was mainly upset because of the stories. There would be no more new stories.
Continue reading “The One Thing – Original Short Story”
Never make the argument
for some evil
only because it’s available.
History doesn’t prove anything.
Okay. And that’s all
I will say about this topic.
Some months ago I joined a writing community (@thewritersblock). One of the poets there started to edit words said in chat, to show the beauty of what I’d call unintended poetry. Thanks @damianjayclay (www.damianjayclay.com) for bringing this kind of beauty to the surface. It’s beyond measure.
Here an overview of more fiction/short stories by @nobyeni.
It is not often that you read books that make you want to read it again the moment you finish it. But this was one such a book.
Addressed to his 15-year old son, Coates talks about what has made him the man he is. Growing up as a black boy, having to survive on the streets and at school, being told he should be twice as good as anybody else, being loved by parents who feared for his well-being. It is not a world I know. I am not American. But I am brought up with the ideas Coates talks about, with the idea of whiteness.
I cannot claim I fully understand every part of it. But I do share some of the experiences he write about. About visiting Paris, feeling free for the first time. Being amazed that there is a world out there that is so completely different, almost unrelated to him. Where he is an outsider as well, but where he doesn’t have to fear for his life. Even though he does, because that is what ideology has done to him.
Continue reading “Book review: Between the world and me by Ta-Nehisi Coates”
“Jacob, listen. You need to tell me what happened.”
The boy was sitting in a corner, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He moved back and forth, to a rhythm only noticeable to him.
Richard shook his head. How were they supposed to get any information out of this kid? It wasn’t like they’d just give him some cookies and he’d spill the beans.
Continue reading “The Dogs – Original Short Story”
In a world far far away, in a galaxy that doesn’t exist, and in a time that is already forgotten, there was a man…
So I wrote a story today, in response to a 24-hour challenge. The prompt was ‘a robot that falls in love with its owner’. I was talking to someone over in an online writers group I’m part of, and he kind of challenged me to write fantasy. So I thought of the most crazy thing I could think of and wrote a short flash fiction story (of about 500 words).
A story which, I’m happy to report, many people seem to like, as it was awarded special curation. So, if cryptocurrency is real, it will be my best paid piece of writing so far.
You can read the full story here, for free: