Writing Exercise 107

Have you had a merry Christmas? I hope so. :)
This week I have a more sci fi themed writing exercise for you. Here it is:

2017/12/29 – Everyone lives in the same reality; each one just perceives it differently.

When he woke up he felt so exhausted he could have slept a hundred years more. The afterglow of nightmares haunted him, horrible sentiments which carried over into the wakeful hours and left him detached from the world. He stood and shuffled over to the kitchen where the timer of the coffee machine had already prepared a pot. With his mug he sat on the sofa and typed a short poem to capture the impressions of his night before they were gone and posted it online.

The next few minutes he sat there waiting on reactions and browsing the internet for news. Thousands of deaths worldwide through either natural disasters or civil wars or disease and hunger, some political decisions he neither understood nor supported, snippets from celebrities' lives he wasn't interested in, ads about stuff he didn't need. He put his smartphone down and drank up his coffee.

The movement-sensitive lighting switched on and off when he passed the rooms and headed for the bathroom. He undressed and stepped into the shower cubicle. The sensor in the shower tub turned on the display, which showed him his weight and suggested he go on a diet, and the shower routine began as a countdown started: one minute soaking, two minutes stop to apply bodywash and shampoo, five minutes to rinse and relax. Then the program ended in Kneipp affusions. He hated the cold water, but it helped him fully wake; and it was the program his smart home suggested.

In the meantime the heating had warmed his towel and he dried himself off. The towel wound around his waist, he waddled to the sink to brush his teeth. The electric tooth brush activated a display in the mirror, which showed him which tooth he was brushing and when to move on to the next. It also warned him hen he applied too much pressure.

Back in his bedroom he listened to the latest weather forecast, which his smart home had recorded, and decided what to wear according to it. The intelligent mirror checked for matching colours and gave its okay; he was good to go. So he grabbed his smartphone and checked again for notifications. By now a few people had liked or disliked his poem, but the result was mostly positive; he had three new followers and even a short comment consisting of a smiley with heart-shaped eyes and '5*!'. It was much better than nothing. With a slightly better mood he typed a 'thx' and added a grinning smiley. Then he pocketed his smartphone and exited his apartment; the door locked automatically as he pressed his thumb to the fingerprint scanner.

The fast lane transported him to the bus stop, so he had some time to check his smartphone again. A few more clicks. Not bad. By noon there would be more. He was just in time for the bus to arrive. Upon entrance he swiped his wrist across the scanner; the subcutaneous ID-chip authorised the micro-payment for the bus fee. Then he slipped the protective wristband back over his wrist, so none would scan his wrist and rob his bank account or use his ID for other purposes. He seated himself as the bus started to move. It was rush hour, but after self-driving cars had become standard there were hardly any traffic jams anymore. So he would certainly arrive on time.

During the bus ride he took out his smartphone and played some browser games to pass time; he was well immersed in the game, so ignored what happened around him. In fact, most of the passengers didn't notice when the driverless bus left its programmed route and headed off into another direction. But as soon as the bus suddenly accelerated some of the passengers lost their footing, cried out and alerted the others. Still he didn't notice the tumult, his ears were plugged with earphones blaring his favourite song over and over.

The traffic light turned red, yet still the bus wouldn't slow down. A baby cried, alerted by its mother's fear. Someone tried to manually open the automatic doors, but they wouldn't budge as the hacked bus was still driving. The crash was as inevitable as it was nasty. The distance indicators of other cars couldn't react as fast as the bus approached. It rammed the car before it, pushed it all the way onto the crossroads, where other cars crashed into the bus from either side. Soon police and ambulances were called, but they discovered none had survived – except for him. He was utterly shaken and his limbs were torn from his body, but he was alive. Well, as much alive as you could call it. For only then he discovered that he was actually an android…

Writing Exercise 106

Merry Christmas to you all!
I hope you enjoy the holidays, have pleasant celebrations with your loved ones, lots of delicious food and nice presents. My little something for you is this week's writing exercise: a tanka.

2017/12/24 – Christmas (Tanka)

Come together and

Celebrate with your loved ones!

Spirit of Christmas –

Fairy lights illuminate

The darkest night and our hearts.

Writing Exercise 105

Hello again!
I hope you are well and can enjoy the wintry weather. This week I have a drabble for you, which describes my current situation.
Here it is:

2017/12/12 – cold (Drabble)

You woke up and instantly knew, this was not your day. Lucky, if you could turn around again and sleep it all off. Eventually you had to get up though. Your mind woozy, you dragged yourself to the kitchen where you might opt for some herbal infusion or a hot milk with too much honey for your liking. Like a zombie you sat there waiting, staring into the void, your limbs too heavy to move, your head crammed with pain cushioned in cotton wool and your throat barbed with triple-strand concertina wire. No, this was not your day. Maybe tomorrow…

Writing Exercise 104

Today is a perfect snow day. So I decided this week's writing exercise should be about that. Make yourselves cozy at home and enjoy!

2017/12/09 – a day in December (poem)

Snowflakes are silently drifting

Watching from the inside

I find it very uplifting

From the cold to hide

The world is swallowed

By the clouds of white

Warmer days are hallowed

And the wish for light

Powdered snow piling high

The world seems frozen in time

Smoking chimneys heave a sigh

Christmas carols and a chime

Writing Exercise 103

Hey there!
This week I'm a little late. But I have a little Haiku for you, and it is about something related to advent and Christmas. Maybe this will get you in the mood for this time of year?

2017/12/03 – advent calendar (Haiku)

Advent calendar –

Count the days until Christmas.

Presents every day!

Writing Exercise 102

Hello again!
This morning I was awake so early I was able to write an entire chapter before the sun even set -- don't ask me why but I was wide awake. Apropos of sunset, this is also the topic of this week's drabble. So enjoy a beautiful morning!

2017/11/23 – sunset (Drabble)

It is still dark outside as I sit down at my desk, open a document ant start typing, a cup of tea in hand. As I write slowly the night sky becomes lighter. A blood-red silver lining accentuates the horizon. Suddenly it sets the clouds ablaze in fiery reds and oranges as if the world was plunged in global conflagration. Totally captivated by the breathtaking vista I stare at the scenery outside my windows; stark black hills contrasting with the glow of the setting sun. Then the sky lights up as the sun rises higher, welcomes a bright new day.

Writing Exercise 101

Hello again!
Here is writing exercise 101 already. I'm pretty busy with my current NaNoWriMo project, so I thought I'd write about that. So here is a poem about NaNoWriMo 2017:

2017/11/14 – NaNoWriMo 2017 (poem)

Words are aligning,

Sentences combining;

At least a chapter a day –

So far I'm doing okay.

When writing time flies by;

Thought I would give it a try.

I wonder what I reach faster:

37 chapters or 50k word master?

A sequel to what I wrote last

NaNoWriMo, it's such a blast!

No matter what, rain, hail or sun –

Writing is so much fun.

I'm comfortable in my writing nook.

Soon you'll see, I'll finish my book.

Swing the keys like a shovel;

Who wants to beta my novel?

New Horizons

Having read an interesting article about publishing platforms, I decided to broaden my horizon and publish the third volume of my short story collection called 'New Untold Stories of Neverbeen Universe' on wattpad which is also accessible via smartphone app.
I think it's pretty cool, and pretty convenient. Now you can read my stories everywhere. ;)
So check it out and tell me what you think. :D

Writing Exercise 100

Wow! This is writing exercise number 100 already. :D

And to celebrate this 'century' of writing exercises, I chose to let you read a short appetizer from the novel I'm currently writing as NaNoWriMo project. This work is called 'Rogue Adventures -- A Tale from Neverbeen Universe' and is a continuation of my yet unpublished novel "Ravenous Adventures -- A Tale from Neverbeen Universe', and I'm currently writing chapter 17 of 37 planed chapters.

So here is a short excerpt of this very chapter:

2017/11/08 – write a short excerpt of where you're at in your current NaNoWriMo project (Rogue Adventures – A Tale from Neverbeen Universe, chapter 17)

[…] Raphael’s gaze sharpened. He drew his sword. ‘Stay back,’ he linked his mind with Gene’s, and he obediently did a step backwards.

‘He’s all yours,’ Gene murmured, ‘Just be careful. That’s the one who kidnapped me.’ Raphael had assumed as much, but now he had Gene’s affirmation. He cautiously approached, ready to fight.

“Now, now,” the Daemon had an even thicker accent than Raphael, “Is this a way to greet family?”

“I do not know you,” Raphael stated evenly, “and if it’s true and you’re one of my father’s cronies, I’ll have even more reason to kill you.” He lifted his sword.

“I wouldn’t call me a crony, but, indeed, I am here on Lord Rhagkal’s orders,” the man admitted and grinned, “What about you, Gene? At least you’re going to greet me properly, right?” He opened his arms as if he expected a hug.

Behind Raphael Gene shifted into a defensive stance. “No way in hell. You can’t be trusted.”

“Pity,” the stranger commiserated, then grinned mischievously. Suddenly he leapt over the altar, drew two shortswords and slashed them at Raphael, who reacted swiftly enough to parry. […]

Writing Exercise 099

Hey there!
Are you going on a Halloween party tonight or wakling the streets in a spooky costume haunting people? Are you preparing for NaNoWriMo and counting the hours and minutes until you can do your first writing sprint in November? :D

Anyway, here is another writing exercise. This week I picked four books from my reading stack, chose a page each, read the first sentence on those pages and wrote a little story containing these sentences.
The sentences are taken from 'The Blood of Nerys' by S. K. Balk, 'The Woman Who Dies a Lot' by J. Fforde, 'The Loneliest Girl in the Universe' by L. James and 'Malevolence' by F. R. Donaldson -- in that order. Check these books out if you're interested; I gobbled them whole. ;)
In the meantime enjoy my story:

2017/10/31 – pick four books from your night stand/reading nook, choose randomly a page each and write a story containing the first sentence you read on every page you chose. (p.66 of The Blood of Nerys by S. K. Balk, p.153 of The Woman Who Died a Lot by J. Fforde, p.212 of The Loneliest Girl in the Universe by L. James, p.288 of Malevolence by F. R. Donaldson)

It was just at daybreak when there was a dull thud and the ship shuddered against the waves. The mast cracked and moaned under the pressure of the wind in the sails, tilting the prow slightly as she wouldn't move anymore. One after the other the crew stumbled out of their cots and hurried on deck.

“What in the name of Nemo's beard happened?” captain Kai bellowed and stemmed his fists on his hip. His crew looked anywhere but at their captain.

“Apparently we ran aground on a shoal,” Daisy piped up and lifted a brow.

“A shoal! Who of you keelsons was in charge of the crow's nest?” Kai wanted to know. For a good while none said anything until a timid hand was raised. “Well? Why didn't you notice?” the captain asked impatiently.

The man hummed and hawed, but under Kai's stern stare he confessed: “I fell asleep.”

Kai cursed vividly. “You had this one task to stay awake and make sure we don't crash, but you fell asleep!” The captain made a gruff gesture. “Tie him to the mast and don't take him down before I say so.”

“Please,” the man begged.

But none dared to defy captain's orders, though they pitied the poor guy for his punishment.

“Drop the sails, or the ship will capsize,” Daisy demanded as Kai stomped under deck. She sighed and watched the pirates get to work. Then she set about walking from stern to prow and back thinking about what to do, while the ship rocked against the shoal and ran further aground with every wave splashing against the planks. It was way past noon and almost ebb tide when captain Kai stopped her. “What are you doing? You've skipped both breakfast and lunch,” he asked much calmer, actually concerned.

'Isn't he just the perfect husband?' murmured Daisy sarcastically. 'Only now he comes looking for me.' She sighed and answered: “I spend the day pacing the ship, buried waist-deep in hopeless solutions.”

“And?” Kai tilted his head until his fancy hat was about to fall off.

“Well, we can only hope flood tide will be high enough to carry us off the shoal,” she scrutinized him and winked an eye open before she added, “or else you have to empty the hold and throw all those boxes crammed with silly souvenirs from all the towns we raided over board.”

“Who told you about that?” Kai asked angrily. But he was more embarrassed, really. But Daisy only chuckled and patted his shoulder as she walked past him. “Think about it, Captain Kai. What is more important? Your ship or the bric-a-brac you like to collect?” She strutted off, leaving him to ponder, already knowing what he would choose.

Writing Exercise 098

This week started with a sudden incident, which got me thinking. And the result of this thought process is the very drabble you're about to read. So without further ado I leave you to it. :)

2017/10/25 – worry (drabble)

Worry is nothing but the uncertainty of not knowing about the whereabouts or circumstances of someone or something. You might say, you don't want people to worry for you. And yet you can only worry for people or things you hold dear – who or which have a special meaning to you. If you don't worry, you won't care, and this indifference shows the insignificance of them. But if you do worry, they will have a place in your heart. So inherent in the system, worry is a hint at and the proof of the love you feel. So worry more.

Old Memories

Looking through old pictures I found a black and white photograph which is about a decade old. Seeing the colours missing, I took this photo as reference to recreate it with SAI and colour it as I remember it.
Here is the result:

Writing Exercises 096 and 097

I just realised I didn't upload last week's writing exercise. Oops. XD;;
Well, then you get to read two writing exercises this week.
Last week I wrote a poem on the topic 'Winter is coming' and today I wrote a drabble about 'skyline'.
Here is number 096:

2017/10/15 – Winter is coming (poem)

Golden leaves are falling down

Holidaymakers flee this lonely town

However, don't cower in fear

Just because winter draws near

Grab a mug of coffee or tea

And dream about the beach and the sea

Take your favourite book

Build yourself a reading nook

Or possibly you decide to bake

Make lots of cookies or even cake

And sometimes maybe the weather is fine

Then go catch a bit of sunshine

Anyway, there is no reason for sadness

Soon there starts the Christmas madness

Certainly winter approaches fast

But it's up to you to make it a blast

And this is number 097:

2017/10/18 – skyline (Drabble)

Imagine you could build a city out of your favourite books, with words as tall as skyscrapers. Who would inhabit this place? Where amongst these books would your home be? Would Frodo greet you sitting on his porch smoking or Samuel Vimes pound the beat around your 'hood at night? Would you meet Hermione at the supermarket or have a meeting at Wayne Enterprise? Would you go for a health check up to Doc Frankenstein or would a raven tap the window of your 10^th floor apartment? Just imagine how variegated and tempting the skyline of book spines would be!

Writing Exercise 095

This week's writing exercise is a less serious one. I was prompted by my dear writing buddy Frankie, and this is the drabble I came up with:

2017/10/02 – My dog just started talking to me, and he's not pleased. (Drabble)

I had a weird dream. I was walking through a dark, foreign city and I was lost. Somehow I ended up in a park. As I passed the trees I noticed someone was following me. Scared as hell I walked faster until I met a dead end at a lake. So I turned around to face whoever was following me. From the underbush a dog emerged and it growled. Although I don't have pets I knew this was mine. “Where the hell have you been?” the dog exclaimed, “I've been looking for you. Let's go home.” Utterly puzzled I woke.

Writing Exercise 094

This week I got another writing prompt and I turned it into a drabble. Now that it is finished, I think I could have done things differently, more lightheartedly and situated in my dear Neverbeen Universe -- a simple travel towards new horizons. It would have been a fun adventure, but instead I chose to write something that might get you thinking...

2017/09/29 – the last day on Earth (Drabble)

It all began with a misunderstanding; simple words misinterpreted. They set in motion a chain reaction of other words – clearer and more decisive, with only a worried whisper as bulwark easily overcome by blind obedience. A button was pushed; through the grapevine a devastating message spread half around the globe, important ears only a phone call away. The countdown was ticking. In blind wrath and vengeance more words were bellowed down the chain of responsibility and more buttons were pushed, some farther away, some closer. But most people didn't even know until it hit them. The last day of humankind.

Midnight Art

Lately I've not been sleeping well. So during another wakeful night I thought: why not use the time to be a little productive?
Too tired to write, yet too awake to sleep, I sat down to draw. Listening to music, I used Sai to outline and colour what came to mind.
Here is the result of that sleepless night:

Writing Exercise 093

This week I got a prompt from my dear writing buddy Frankie, and a quite interesting one at that. So come with me on a journey and see what happens. :D

2017/09/18 – The teapot boils and you pour the hot water into the mug. Stir the teabag around in circles, creating a small vortex within the cup. As you keep stirring, you watch the vortex, staring at it dreamily, until you notice the vortex getting bigger and bigger and suddenly you are pulled into it. Down and down the spinning vortex, down and gone to another realm. Where do you land and how do you get back?

Breaching the surface she drew in huge gulps of air; gasping and panting she looked around to find herself in a lake surrounded by dark hills contrasting with the golds and violets of the setting sun. Still out of breath she swam to the banks and dragged her body out of the water, shivering with cold.

“What in the world happened? And where am I?” she wondered as she looked about the beautiful and perfectly calm landscape. Two pale moons were up, and the first stars became visible in the evening sky. So she instantly knew, this was not Earth anymore.

“This has to be one of my weird dreams,” she groaned. Then again she never realized she was dreaming when she did. But it couldn't be real either, could it?

The sun was low on the horizon and wouldn't be able to dry her clothes, so she decided to move and try to find people who might help her. Trudging along the banks of the lake she shivered; her flip-flops made a wet noise with every step she took. Her thoughts wandered home, wishing this really was just a dream and she was napping on her cosy sofa huddled in a fleece blanket and her tea was getting cold.

In the distance she saw a campfire burning in the semi-darkness, and she felt so relieved there were people out there she almost forgot to be afraid. Almost. For as she hurried towards the light in the dark she remembered that whoever was there might not be as friendly as she hoped. On her long way there images of ghastly monsters danced before her mind's eye, drinking blood and crunching bones with their sharp teeth – her bones. She shook her head and walked on. No, she needed help; she was in no position to fear for herself and conjure the worst persons possible. Maybe these monsters were nice and helpful monsters who offered her a change of clothes and a cup of tea.

Decidedly she approached the campfire. And when she arrived, she sighed a sigh of relief as she saw the creatures sitting there looked perfectly human. And yet her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. It was still three men, at least one of them armed with a sword, against one frail and shivering woman. She gulped and halted as if rooted to the ground.

“Come, sit with us. You must be cold,” the man with the sword had noticed her and his dark eyes bore into her as if they could see past her flesh and bones and right into her soul.

The other men also looked her way now. “Oh, hey there. Didn't notice you there in the dark,” the dark blonde smiled at her and waved, while the other stern looking man only acknowledged her with a nod.

“Uh, thank you,” she hesitatingly smiled, “and hi.” These strangers seemed oddly familiar, though she was sure she'd never met them before. Carefully she sat and eyed them a bit warily. At least they seemed friendly and spoke her language. She rubbed her hands and held them close to the fire. The warmth did wonders to her shivering body, but her wet clothes still clung to her.

“May I offer you a cup of coffee? Or tea...” the stern man politely asked. In his three-pieced suit he seemed a bit out of place, much unlike the other two.

“Yes, please,” she nodded eagerly, the prospect of a hot beverage melted her mistrust away. “Either is fine. And thank you.” The man poured her a cup and she cradled it, warming her hands before taking a sip. The coffee was strong and bitter but it did the worlds of good. She smiled and sighed contentedly.

The dark blonde fetched a big towel from their tents. “Did you fall into the lake?” he asked sympathetically.

“Something like that,” she murmured a bit embarrassed. She didn't think they might believe her if she told them what really happened. Instead she huddled into the towel and dried herself. But she stopped when she felt the scrutinizing stare of the one who invited her to their campfire. “Uhm…?” she blinked at him questioningly.

“No, she didn't,” he stated, “she fell through a vortex in her tea cup and landed here.”

She startled, feeling embarrassed yet again. How did he know? Somehow she felt, she should know the answer already.

“A vortex in her tea cup? That sounds highly unlikely,” the dark blonde chuckled quietly.

“But it's true, isn't it? Asuka Ishimaru, author of two short story collections about our dear Neverbeen Universe,” the man who became creepier and creepier to her observed.

“How – how do you know my name?” she asked scared as hell.

“Indeed, how would I know if you didn't tell me and we'd never met? Well, you do know me – as you know all of us – and you know my powers even more than I do, don't you? Remember. Who am I?” he grinned, crafty as a cartload of monkeys.

She stared at him, utterly confused and even shaken. The coffee cup in her hands trembled as she clutched it. Her mind was in turmoil as it tried to make sense of what that man told her. She was sure, they'd never met. And yet she couldn't shake the feeling that – like he said – she did know them.

“How is that even possible, Raphael?” the dark blonde wondered as the stern gentleman cleared his throat and said with an apprehensive air: “If I may? Ishimaru-sensei may very well know us if her identity is confirmed. As I gather from your information on her, Ra-chin, she indeed may be the wisest entity in this whole Universe, and it is a wondrous incident that she is in fact here.”

She stared and outright gaped at the three men before her as finally it dawned on her who they were. At once everything made sense. Why they seemed so familiar, why the man called Raphael knew her name and what happened to her, why the gentleman behaved as he did. She etiolated and felt as though she might faint any minute. Could this really be happening?

“Oh my god,” she whispered, eyes still trained on the three men as if they had grown a second head. But this was even more miraculous. “Is this really real? Are – are you... real?” she blurted and almost dropped her cup of coffee.

Raphael crossed his arms and grinned: “As real as we possibly could.”

And the dark blonde – Gene – blinked, then nodded. “Sure. I feel very real.”

The gentlemanly Reaper agreed as well.

And she was very well gobsmacked. The more she realised the three of them were really there – she was really there and came face to face with them – the more a broad smile spread on her lips. “Awesome. This is totally awesome,” she breathed and stared at them dreamy-eyed. To meet the main characters of her novel in the making was a dream come true.

“Not at all,” Raphael glowered and knotted his brows. “Care to explain why the hell you do all these things to us in your new story? I don't care what happens to me, but I hope you have a damn good reason for what happens to my dear Gene,” he had a warning tone in his voice which spoke of the danger and power he contained. He stood and spread his black wings.

She gulped, her enthusiasm snuffed out in an instant and replaced by fear. For she very well knew what this Daemon was capable of – she had written it herself.

However, the Reaper came to her rescue and stood in Raphael's path. “Don't do something reckless, Ra-chin,” he solemnly said, “remember. Ishimaru-sensei is our creator. If you do her harm we won't be able to foresee the consequences to our own existence, nay, the existence of whole Neverbeen Universe.”

“I know that,” Raphael growled, “but that doesn't justify what she's doing to us. I can't let her get away with murder, even if it's just in a book.”

“Murder?” Gene echoed, and exclaimed shocked, “Someone's going to die? I don't want that.”

“It's just for dramatical purposes. And there is a happy end,” she promised, then turned to Raphael, “You know that, right? All is well in the end. You can prove it if you read my mind.”

Raphael crossed his arms and shook his head. “I don't like it. Rewrite the story!”

Again, Thanatos cleared his throat to get their attention: “If there is an agreeable ending, that may not be necessary. Be that as it may, there is a more concerning fact at hand. If Ishimaru-sensei is here in Nverbeen Universe, a world of her own creation, this may have serious consequences, possibly cataclysmic ones.”

Gene nodded. “I see. I get it now. But whatever happens when she is here?”

“Excuse me. That I can't possibly fathom,” Thanatos said. “However, I deem it an urgent matter to transport Ishimaru-sensei back to her own world so this world might not be endangered, nor pose a threat to her wellbeing.”

“Agreed,” Raphael relented, “I don't want this place to implode on us or whatever. So we have to get her back to wherever she came from.”

She nodded eagerly. As great and fascinating it might be to meet her own creations in the flesh, she knew how dangerous this world was and she certainly didn't want to die in an imaginary world. “Yes, please. I'd rather you visited me at home than something happened to me here,” she smiled lopsidedly.

“But how to get you there?” Gene asked. “Could one of those portals bring you there?”

Raphael thought for a moment until he concluded: “I don't think so. The portals may be connected to other places in Neverbeen Universe, but they won't lead outside. We have to think of something else.”

For a while pensive silence ensued until it was again Raphael who came up with something. “Let's have a look at the incident that brought you here: you were pouring yourself some tea, stirring the tea and creating a vortex. And as you stared at it the vortex sucked you in. My guess: this is all in your mind; the vortex hypnotized you somehow and you're still there where you belong. Otherwise you couldn't possibly enter a universe that is purely of your own creation.”

That somehow sounded plausible. “So what do I do to get… unhypnotized?” she asked, “Because that would bring me back, right?”

Raphael nodded. “I think so.” Again he thought for a moment, then suggested: “I could link our minds and see if I can wake you.”

Hesitatingly she nodded. She was pretty uncomfortable with someone poking around in her mind, especially someone of Raphael's calibre. But she wanted to return home as fast as possible and hopefully in one piece. “Alright. Please try,” she agreed.

She felt a tingle in the back of her head as Raphael's presence gently pushed inside her head, filled her thinking and a shiver ran down her spine when his calm and deep mental voice murmured: 'Relax. Think of your home. Remember, this is not real, this is but a daydream. Remember where you are and what you are doing. Good. Hold that thought.' She relaxed and did as he told, relished in the feel of his strong mind guiding hers.

'And on the count of three you open your eyes and are back where you belong. Ready? One… two… three.'

She opened her eyes and blinked. Gone was the campfire, and gone were the three protagonists of her novel in the making. She became aware she was still standing in the kitchen, staring forlornly into her mug. “That was the weirdest daydream I've ever had,” she mused. “Wish it was real though. Oh, well.” She shrugged and took a huge sip of her tea. It had become too strong and had already gone cold. She downed it nonetheless, put the teapot on again and flip-flopped back to her desk where she opened the manuscript to her novel in the making. This incident had really put her in the good mood to work on the story again…

Writing Exercise 092

Hello again!
This week, of course, I have another writing exercise for you. This time I wrote a drabble about the weather, and how it changed.
Here it is:

2017/09/17 – sunshine (Drabble)

The rays of the summer sun are fading. Less warmth reaches the earth and a cold wind is blowing away summer's last petals. You remember the brightness of those days and the heat caressing your skin. Yet still the sun makes the lake seem like dancing diamonds and has you long for its warmth and think of summer. The sunshine deceives you, lures you outside. But even if it is colder than you estimated you still glean a lot from it. And if it is just a little smile, that will be perfectly enough. For it lightens up my world.

Writing Exercise 091

Of curse, this week I also have a writing exercise for you. This time I got a very interesting prompt.
Let's see what I did with it, shall we?

2017/09/10 – The Post Offices all over the world are going to close, but they give you one last chance to write your very last snail mail ever.

“Did you know the Post Offices are going to close? It's all over the news,” my mother told exasperated when she visited me this Monday morning, “Can you believe that!”

I just shrugged as I always felt awkward writing mails. Usually they were addressed to public authorities or insurance companies and thus no pleasant mails at all. I wouldn't miss them. And when I found my mailbox empty I'd often muttered: “No mail at all is good mail.”

“But they give each person one last chance to send a very last mail. The authorities have handed over a list of their citizens so they can check,” my mother continued, reached into her bag and showed me an envelope. “I'm headed there now. Want to come along?” she asked excitedly.

Reluctantly I agreed, slipped on my shoes, grabbed my bag and keys and followed her to the only supermarket in the village, where the Post Office was crammed between the shelf with wine and the bakers.

When we reached the supermarket, the place was overrun with people – young and old. The poor cashiers didn't know what to do as they were so few and not used to having a whole village of customers in their shop at the same time.

“Oh, god,” I moaned, “this is madness.”

Once so friendly neighbours fought viciously over the last stamps and envelopes, the queue extended over the whole building and frayed at times as people got impatient and frantic and were eager to send their last mail or postcard or parcel. People were shouting and shoving but nothing made the process go faster as there was only one Post Office register.

“Are you really going to stand here in line waiting all day?” I asked my mother and she huffed: “I've run out of stamps. Didn't think it would be that full.” So we queued for a while. I looked around the shelves and thought about what to make for dinner. Until my mother became really impatient.

“You know what? Let's come back tomorrow. They won't be closing for another week. There sure is enough time to get that mail sent,” she decided.

“Who are you writing to anyway?” I was curious, but she only smiled sagely.

“To a very important person in my life, of course,” she answered.

So we decided to go home and meet up again tomorrow. But the situation was the same on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and we had neither the patience nor the mood to stand in line all day with people who behaved like madmen.

That was when three letters and a postcard arrived in my mailbox. Curiously I opened them to find my best friend and some people I'd lost contact with had decided to write their very last letter to me. As I didn't expect any mail I was pretty overwhelmed while I read each letter and postcard. Their words moved me almost to tears and the desire to write back to each of them filled me. I would type each of them an email, I promised to myself. But I also decided I would write that last letter and have it sent!

But it had to be special. So I searched my office for some sheets of laid paper and took my calligraphy pen and got to work. As I wrote the longest and most meaningful letter in my whole life I wanted to convey a lot of things. Of course I could tell this person any day per phone or email or text or directly. But dedicating my final letter to this person made everything so profound and serious. I even found my last two stamps, so again I met up with my mother on Friday to share them with her. The post box was overstuffed and I didn't want to rumple my letter.

“You know what? Here. I don't need that Post Office to deliver anything to you,” I exclaimed and handed the letter over. She was speechless and smiled happily then hugged me.

“You're right,” she agreed. “We'll never get that letter delivered in time with so many people overcrowding the place. And the post box is a mess. Here.” She gave me her letter, and it indeed was addressed to me.

“So I am that important person?” I ask surprised.

“Of course, silly,” she laughed and hugged me again.

Announcement

It's on a pretty short notice, but I have something to tell you. :D

Tomorrow I'm going to have an author's slot at my dear writing buddy Frankie's release party for her novel "Emergence".
In this author's slot I get to celebrate with my friend, talk about my works and do a reading of a short story from my yet unreleased third volume of my "Untold Stories of Neverbeen Universe" short story collections.

The event starts at 6:30 p.m. CET and my author's slot starts at 8:15 p.m. CET.
Here's the link to Frankie's Facebook, as the party will be held online.

Don't miss it and celebrate with us! :D

Writing Exercise 090

I wanted to start fresh this month, so I waited for today. This week I wrote a German sonnet to wish you a 'good morning'. :)
Here it is:

2017/09/01 – good morning (German sonnet)

As the mist rises from the lake

The sun glimmers behind clouds of white

To shoo away the colours of night

Stillness remains for the watcher's sake

A memory of summer's end

Seems as if frozen in time

A spell cast in a wondrous rhyme

The melancholy off to fend

The sleepy forest lies so dark

A woodpecker assaults the bark

It is the only sound

Gently the sun heralds the day

A very 'good morning' to say

There's happiness to be found

Writing Exercises 088 and 089

Hey there!

I can't believe I didn't upload last week's writing exercise. So sorry!
Therefore this week you get to read two exercises. That's not so bad, isn't it?
So here is writing exercise number 088:

2017/08/20 – cactus (Haiku)

Though covered with thorns

A cactus is a symbol

Of passion and love

And this is writing exercise number 089:

2017/08/24 – too tired (double drabble)

[…] As Jack reached the gates, he couldn't fully believe what was happening. He knew the world was a more wondrous and magical place than anybody could imagine – hidden in plain sight before the eyes of the oblivious and ignorant humans. Jack might be human, too, but he did believe there was more than met the eye. And ever since he had met the fallen angel he really knew there was a lot more out there than most people assumed.

In the quietness of her living room Asuka Ishimaru sat at her desk and stared at the paragraph she had written, fingers hovering above the keys of her laptop. It was 3:49 a.m. and the author had been in denial of her tiredness for hours. Her brain felt as if cushioned in cotton wool and stuck in the thickest of mists; white, blank – and impenetrable for any words to come forth. She kept on staring at the screen for a good seven minutes before she deleted the whole paragraph and sighed frustrated. Asuka rubbed her temples and sighed deeply again. It was no use. Finally she stood and trudged to bed. Deeply huddled beneath her blankets she instantly fell asleep.

Writing Exercise 087

This week I wrote a drabble which includes the Words of the Day from Monday, August 7th til Friday, August 11th, which are "fructify", "mussitation", "ventifact", "palindrome" and "nimbus".
Here it is:

2017/08/11 – include the words “ventifact”, “mussitation”, “fructify”, “palindrome” and “nimbus” in a drabble

There was a mountain with an odd shape and colouring standing on a vast desert plain. It was a lonely mountain, tall and proud, that adamantinely withstood against the odds and especially the weathers. The angry wind kept sweeping and howling about the mountain top for years until its mussitation finally fructified; its ethereal nimbus swooshed back and forth, back and forth like a palindrome. And the result was a surface made of ventifacts – polished smooth and shining from miles and miles away. It made this mountain special, holy even. So it became a famous landmark. Do you know which?

Writing Exercise 086

Hello again!

This week's writing exercise is a bit of a squib -- or a satirical reality, sadly, as I didn't even have to exaggerate much. Anyway, let's see what happened, shall we?

2017/08/03 – a normal day in the town of S.

In the quaint town of S. there lived a couple who wanted to get married. As he was working all day they decided his fiancée should go do the visits to the authorities.

First she went to the registry office of the city where she was born to get a copy of her register of births. She knew she could have done this online, but the office lady she had phoned beforehand had told her getting them personally was faster.

A few women were waiting in line, some pushing their perambulators, others having a quiet jaw. Then suddenly a man burst into the floor, clearly annoyed, spewing hateful words and accosting those who opposed him. It soon became clear he was a right-winged racist and wrongly deemed himself amongst foreigners. The situation soon got out of hand and it wouldn't have taken much more and he might have gone violent.

Luckily it was her turn at the office so she got out of there. The office lady however wondered: “You're not listed in the database. You sure that you're born here?” The fiancée affirmed the truth and implored to look again. Still nothing. So the office lady went to look at the old folders and pored over them until she finally found her. “So you do exist,” she smiled and made a copy. “By the way you could have requested these documents online.”

A bit stirred up she drove back to get the registration certificates from the Citizens Advice Bureau of the city of S.. The queue was quite short and she sat down in the waiting area. There was plenty time to get this over with and go to the registry office to call the banns.

However fifteen minutes passed and nothing happened. More people arrived at the Citizens Advice Bureau. Time and again the telephone rang, but no one appeared to take the call. And inside the office everything came to a standstill. Apparently the only printer didn't work.

More people came and others left as they were fed up with waiting. Adamantly she stayed and waited. Another fifteen minutes passed as someone was called to repair the printer. But that someone didn't succeed in fixing the problem and they had to call someone else. Indeed five people stood in front of the damnable printer and discussed what to do until someone had the idea to switch a cable and restart the printer. After three-quarters to an hour the printer finally worked again and she got her registration certificates. “Is the registry office still open?” she asked and the office lady of the Citizens Advice Bureau affirmed. “But you have to make an appointment first.”

That was why she was headed there in the first place, but she accepted the note with the phone number and tried to phone the registry office. No answer. So she went home and waited for the lunch break to end before she tried to call again. Still no answer, and neither in the Citizens Advice Bureau. So she wrote an email in the hope they might call her back. They didn't.

After five more futile calls she drove back to the municipal building and tried to make an appointment personally. But when she reached the registry office, there was a note that no one was there and one should make an appointment via phone. Annoyed she tried again to make a call, but no one answered. She knocked at the neighbouring office, but no one was there.

On the adjacent floor there was someone in his office, so she went there and asked for help. The man was nice enough to phone different departments in search for the lost registry office lady. “She must be somewhere. Others are looking for her, too. Please wait for her return,” he said and she thanked him and waited in front of the office.

Another half hour passed and no one showed up. She was about to go home when suddenly the door to the registry office opened. So the lady had been there all this time! “So you're here after all. I'd like to make an appointment to call the banns,” she exclaimed.

But the lady said: “Please make an appointment via phone.”

“I tried several times. But it didn't work. That's why I went here in the first place,” she huffed.

“Anyway, please wait. I'll be back,” the lady said and disappeared. Baffled she sat back down and waited again. Time was ticking and the closing time drew near. Just five minutes to closing time the lady appeared again. “I'm sorry, time's up.”

“I just want to make an appointment!” she exclaimed, annoyed.

“Well, alright,” the lady seemed affronted but bade her in. “What is this about?”

“I'd like to call the banns,” the troubled fiancée explained.

“I can give you an appointment for the 23^rd of October,” the lady conceded after leafing busily through her calendar.

“But that's in over two months! We don't want to get married on that day, we just want to call the banns,” she couldn't believe it.

“Listen, I'm very busy. That's how it is. Either take that date or come back next year.”

Begrudgingly she made that appointment and went home exhausted, only to find out later in the neighbouring town she could have called the banns on the very same day. But that was how life was like in the town of S., and no one said it'd be easy to get married, right?

Writing Exercise 085

Of course, this week I'll post a new writing exercise. Again I chose to write about the 'Word of the Day'; this time it's a poem.
Here it is:

2017707/28 – word of the day: ballon (Poem)

Light and graceful she dances

As if she could fly away

Wonder what are the chances

That she might stay?

She jumps and turns with ballon

Casting alluring shades

In the twilight of dawn

As the fragile dream fades