Short Stories

You left me here, you left me again; You were my everything, then and when. Marie. Blood on my hands, on my face; The noise of silence is destroying and killing; All you were, left me in a haze. Marie. Walking away, mud between my toes; Walking fast, walking far, where sadness never shows. Marie. Words of truth, never heard nor spoken. Was this a dream? Have I been woken? Please take my heart as another token. Marie. Love. Affliction. Lust. Another one bites the dust. Marie! Nothing but an apple; Left with no fear, no joy; We fought together, you as my alloy. Marie… Marie Clemence. You were my renaissance.

“If you want to sit here that’s $2.” “What? That’s insane! You cannot charge people to sit on a bench.” “I think you should leave now.” “No! This is a public camp ground. You cannot make me leave” Jerry pulls out his gun and holds it into his face. “I said. You should leave. Now!” Jerry is an old man. A crazy, lonely, old man who lives by his own rules. A social outcast who declared himself the owner of a public resting area along the Colorado Trail. Jerry is a broken man. He has been a social outcast for quite a while and almost half a year ago he came to the conclusion just to stay here. He put down his tent and never left. His hair slowly turns grey and his beard seems to grow endlessly. He gave up all modern technology. He takes his grey van to go to the nearby town to buy essentials, everything else he scabs from hikers coming by or he hunts it himself. He’s started growing some tomatoes but without any success. “Every day between 6 and 7 pm these chairs and benches are r...

Have you ever loved someone so much you couldn’t sleep? Couldn’t eat? Couldn’t stop thinking of her and yet, ironically, didn’t think of her whilst masturbating? What if I told you there’s a similar feeling with the same outcome but a very different source. Let me ask you this: Have you ever hated someone so much you couldn’t sleep?… This filthy smile you put on when you enter a room. It’s fake. Every time you decide not to wear a bra so your small, pointy breasts bounce up and down when you run down the stairs. Fake tits. Every hot day you wear that mini skirt which is just long enough to only give you an illusion of how your ass is shaped when you bend forward. You bitch. You manipulate people around you. Take Saskia for example. She sits next to you in school. Or Mark. He is just too young and too naive to realize that you’re just playing with him. The teachers like you because you’re witty and smart. You do your homework every day. You have a side job where you help...

Special thanks to the Estación Sudamerica Hostel in Taganga, Colombia where I got the inspiration for this story. “What do you think of the new house?”, she asks me, “Isn’t it so cool? It’s so big. I’m so happy we finally moved here.” She turns over, kisses me on my cheek and then runs up the stairs. She giggles while running up the stairs. That’s how happy she is. But that’s Karen, always in a good mood and always a smile on her face. We’ve been together for 4 years now and married for two. Nice little ceremony in the mountains. And in all this time I’ve never seen her mad or upset. That’s why I fell in love with her in the first place. “Have you seen the chimney?”, I hear her yelling. I have no idea where she is. This house is way too big for me. Why did we move here? I liked the flat uptown more and as we’re not having any kids, such a big house seems unnecessary.”It’s only 100 K more”, she said, “You will regret it when you’re old.” We will see, my dear, we will see. “He...