Her tears froze half-way down her cheeks. Summer had left overnight while he had packed his bags. Why hadn’t she brought gloves?
Marika took up the ball that was laid down at her feet and threw it far away. Rayleigh ran after it, hairs flowing up and down, just a few seconds slower than her small body. A few moments later the dog was back again, ball pressed between teeth.
Continue reading “What Do Mermaids Do in Winter? — Short Story”
You don’t always go where you think you’re going.
“Welcome to flight 39221. My name is Elsebeth and I’ll be your hostess for today. I am here to make this experience as pleasant as possible. Would you like a drink, sir?”
Harold looked to his right, to what was supposed to be a window, but there was nothing to see. Just a vast blackness that extended until forever. At least, that’s what it looked like. It wouldn’t go on forever, obviously.
“When will we be arriving?” He turned to the lady wearing a purple dress that fitted her tight like a second skin, carefully covering her five tentacles.
Continue reading “Madam Maxime :: Short Story”
Checking in to a mental institution shouldn’t be that difficult, right?
“Excuse me? Hello!” Daniel pressed the button again. Finally he saw some movement through the glass door.
The door opened and a man wearing a white coat popped his head through the opening, scouting the surrounding. His hair was undone and his glasses were thick, like the ones from the 70s. Daniel didn’t really think about it, though. Anyone working at an asylum must be at least a bit crazy themselves, right? Although that was probably not politically correct. It was a mental hospital, for the mentally disturbed, or something like that. All those bullshit social rules, and the government still wondered why people were going mad? Continue reading “Checking In :: Short Story”
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”
I’ve started to seriously write fiction. Today I published a short story from the point of view of a dike with an existential crisis.
I grew up in Haarlem, in the Netherlands, which is situated close to the North Sea and surrounded by dunes and dikes and wetlands. I remember once, as we were out on our bikes driving around, we passed a statue of a boy with his finger in the dike. Probably the one in Spaarnwoude (see image). I remember that my mother told me the story about how this boy Hans had saved the dike. He saw there was a little hole in the dike and put his finger in it, to stop the water from coming through. He was the ‘hero of Haarlem’, making sure the town was not flooded.
As I read about this story now, it turns out not to be a Dutch story at all, but an American one first published in 1865. It was written by Mary Mapes Dodge. So it’s American folklore about the Netherlands. Still, for me it is a Dutch story connected to my childhood.
I wrote this story as part of a writers-workout at a group of writers I’ve recently discovered who provide interesting feedback on one’s writing. All peer-review, with some excellent writers who are able to quickly take apart your work and can point out its strengths and weaknesses. Weekly exercises make everyone challenge themselves in new and surprising ways. At least, for me, as fiction writing is still pretty new to me. At least at the rate I’m doing it now. This time round the assignment was to take a public domain fairy tale or folklore, and to rewrite it from a point of view different than that of the main protagonist of the story. Mine turned out quite nice, I think.
Read the full story on Steem
So, if you’re interested in reading from the point of view of a dike with an existential crisis, here you can read the full story.