Witch Burn

“Let’s celebrate that we don’t burn women anymore.”

“Sure. How should we do that?”

“Let’s burn a woman.”

“What?! No! That’s a horrible way.”

“Oh. Okay. Then let’s burn a doll.”


A/N: Another odd, Danish tradition. 

Little Red Balloon

Just such a lovely poem that I felt that I needed to share it 😀

Tektite Tears

I am usually natural,

only find myself in

nature,

but if I were synthetic

right now,

I’d be a

little red balloon

filled with helium

with a long white

ribbon attached

on a

blue-sky,

white-cumulous

sort of day.

I am light

for once

and colorful,

rising

rising

toward

the light

sneaking away

from an old life

happiness

and hope,

not helium,

lifting me

up

lifting me

away.

I have been here before

but each time been stopped

because of that long

white ribbon,

usually caught by

another who pulls me

back down,

but also by

the brick of guilt

attached to me.

Then my hope

of freedom

deflates

again.

Again I am on that

upward ascent.

Please, God,

don’t let anyone

catch the ribbon,

please give me the

courage to cut

my own tether

to that brick

that shackles me

to this spot.

For my heart is this

little red…

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The Mysteries of Udolpho

A/N: Just a couple of thoughts I had after reading the book.

The Mysteries of Udolpho is perhaps the most perfect example of a Gothic tale.

Travels through Europe, seemingly supernatural mysteries, and a heroine who most conveniently faints, whenever the plot demands it.

Whatever you assimilate with the genre of Gothic, you will most likely find in The Mysteries of Udolpho.

It is certainly not a problem to see why people in the 18th century considered this thrilling tale a page-turner, but for the modern reader the story is most likely also going to appear unnecessary long and with an entirely unneeded quantity of poetry.

A couple of hundred of pages could easily be cut away, and Radcliffe would have been better off using half a dozen fewer sub-plots.

Nevertheless, The Mysteries of Udolpho can still be an entertaining story for the modern reader – assuming that he or she has the time to spare.

Stuck In Traffic

Mie Kjerulff

Jim had just picked up Tina from work and they were snailing their way through the late afternoon traffic. Even with the windows rolled all the way down the car was like an oven. Jim was daydreaming of getting home, grabbing a cold beer and throwing himself on the couch to watch the playoffs.

“I want a divorce,” Tina suddenly declared from the passenger seat.

Jim stared fixedly out of the windshield, at the car in front of them. He wasn’t sure if he had heard her correctly. He couldn’t have. They had been married neigh on 16 years. People didn’t just get divorced out of the blue from someone they had been married to for 16 years. He had definitely heard her wrong.

“Jim, are you listening to me?” She had turned towards him in her seat. “I want a divorce.”

He looked out the window at the oncoming…

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Death Becomes Her

Hi everyone!
Sorry for the lack of update this week, but as I’ve been working over 50 hours this week, I haven’t been able to find the time 🙂
I can’t promise you one next week either, as I’ll be off for vacation, but I’ll try my best! 😆

But here’s a repost of a flash fiction for all of you to enjoy 😊

My Own Little Corner

She woke up, her eyes puffy and dry. She had to blink multiple times before being able to keep them open. She didn’t move. She simply stared upward at the ceiling fan as it rushed by. Her eyes tried to follow it as if it would come to an end soon, but couldn’t keep up.

Turning on her side, she saw the impressions left behind from Jack. He didn’t usually sleep with her, but last night he had. Pausing one last time, she hesitantly sat up and let her feet dangle off the side of the bed. Looking down at her bare legs she saw the remnants of tragedy. She had grown thin and she had no color anywhere on her body. Her skin matched one that would be found inside a morgue.

“Clara?” It was Jack downstairs. She smelled the no doubt delicious breakfast being made specifically for her…

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