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

Just as promised...

... I'm back with the coloured picture of my D&D character Aira Hild. This Saturday we are going to start the first session of our campaign, and I'm really looking forward to it. So of course this picture has to be ready as well, right? Again I used Sai to draw and colour this picture.
So here she is:

Something Different...

Finally, after all these weeks I am able to show you something different than my weekly writing exercises. :D

As some of my dear writing buddies from the Dead Pete Society and I have decided to play a D&D campaign together I got to create a character just for that campaign.
Our group consists of D&D beginners though; our dungeon mistress has never mastered before, the players have either never played pen&paper RPGs at all or haven't played in ages (earlier versions of D&D) or -- like me -- have only experience in different p&p RPGs.

For those, who know D&D, I play the lawful neutral Razorclaw Shifter fighter Aira Hild. And for those, who don't, you can still see how she looks like as I drew her with Sai:

 

As you can see, I only did the outlines as I was too lazy to colour her.  XD But there will be another picture in the near future, which I might colour.

Anyway, this is going to be fun! And once everyone has set up their characters we can let the dice roll. :D

Writing Exercise 084

Do you know that feeling when you want something so intensely you can alread taste it? This week's drabble is about something like that.
Enjoy!

2017/07/20 – pudding (Drabble)

Sometimes sweets is what the body needs. When you're taken by a certain craving, when your mind pulls a blank and has nothing to run on, that's the time when you should consider what to do to alleviate your sorrows. You mind formulates a thought, your mouth waters as you think you have a taste on the tip of your tongue, sweet and soft and smooth. Depending on the weather it should be hot or cold respectively, fresh from the stove or out of the fridge. It has to be. Because it tastes like home. A kingdom for some pudding!

Writing Exercise 083

Hello again!
This week I looked up the "Word of the Day" on www.thesaurus.com and decided to write a drabble in which the current word of the day is included. The drabble is about two inhabitants of my dear Neverbeen Universe, who you haven't seen for a while.
Enjoy!

2017/07/11 – word of the day: perambulator (Drabble)

“Un-fucking-believable,” Phobos exclaimed. He pushed the perambulator as Ayumu held little Crathos in her arms and shushed and cooed at him. “Why the hell did we buy this fucking thing if all the brat ever does is wail like a wimp when he is put in there?” the choleric groused.

“Because,” Ayumu emphasized, “Crathos is getting heavy. And I won't carry him for hours on end and hurt my back.”

“Can't you make him stop? This is un-fucking-bearable,” he grumbled. Ayumu sighed and rocked Crathos gently. But the baby only stopped crying when Ayumu placed him into his father's arms.

Writing Exercise 082

A new month -- a new weekly writing exercise. This time I wrote a poem. Let's see what -- or who -- this is about, shall we?
Enjoy!

2017/07/05 – the raven (poem)

Once upon an afternoon fine

I looked through a window of mine

And just on the neighbour's roof

Sat a raven, quite aloof

For a while I watched him sit

And I pondered about his wit

Concluded that he didn't lack

Seeing that he watched me back

So I nodded as a greeting

And just for a moment fleeting

I thought a cow flew over the moon

As in my mind he cawed: “Good afternoon.”

Writing Exercise 081

Another week has gone by. This is the last writing exercise in June already. Wow. Time sure flies by.
Today I have a Tanka for you and it's about a rainy day.
Here it is:

2017/06/30 – a rainy day (Tanka)

As the sky darkens

The clouds are heavy with rain

Droplets fall quietly

They are pitter-pattering

At the window of my soul

Writing Exercise 080

It's time for writing exercise number 080 already. Time sure flies by! :o
This week my task is to write a riddle. Let's see if you can find out what I'm writing about. I'm sure you will. :D

2017/06/23 – riddle

I see something you don't see,

Hanging from a willow tree,

Spinning on a single thread,

Far away from a spider's net,

It is wiggling,

it is jiggling,

Waiting for the wane of the moon,

Once it turns into a cocoon,

Tell me now, what did I see

Hanging from that willow tree?

Writing Exercise 079

Recently I feel like I'm neglecting my dear blog because I do nothing but post my weekly writing exercises each week. Which saddens me. :/
I want to give you more content, but right now I barely manage to squeeze my writing exercises into my week. And I figured, this is the least I can do.
So here is this week's drabble about twilight (not the series!):

2017/06/13 – twilight (Drabble)

Wander the tight rope, but don't fall off! Does your inner compass always show the right way? There is a fine line between light and dark, right and wrong. Sometimes that line blurs, sometimes it can't be seen anymore as it is overlaid by grey shades and ambiguity. Day turns into night, and night turns into day. Only then the sky shows its most beautiful colours, only then the light of the sun doesn't hurt your eyes and burn your skin, only then the darkness doesn't swallow your heart. Some things can only exist then. This time is called twilight.

Writing Exercise 078

I'm pretty late this week. But I do have a writing exercise for you. This time I had to write a story backwards. Interesting, don't you think? I tried to write it so it still makes at least some sense when read backwards. So here is writing exercise number 078:

2017/06/10 – tell a story backwards, from the last sentence to the first

So all was well.

It really was as good as I imagined.

At my parent's we baked the cake and I looked forward to eating it.

When it was done, I drove on.

I fetched some tools and tried to repair the car.

“Just my luck,” I groused.

When I was almost there, the car broke down again.

I grabbed my keys and started.

“Be there in a minute,” I said.

My mother called and reminded me of the cake.

It was a bright morning.

Writing exercise 077

Let's start the new month with a new writing exercise, shall we?
The weather is just beautiful; doesn't it make you want to go on holidays? But maybe this writing exercise will: it's a drabble on the topic 'journey'.
Here it is:

2017/06/01 – journey (Drabble)

On your way to a faraway place, what would you bring? Who would you take along? You see so many things. You might take a photograph, but the memory alone stays forever inside your heart – more colourful, more detailed, more charged with emotion.

So let us go towards that horizon, where the sky is blue and the land is free. Let us explore this wonderful world together, discover the places that no one has seen before. Let us leave some footprints in the sand and trailblaze a path into the heart of the deepest forests. And then return home safely.