This is a close up of my left eye. And below is me trying to understand…
When have we become so obsessed with taking meaningless selfies/close-ups to connect with others? What has changed so much that we try to mingle digitally? Why has making duck faces become more alluring than a simple, sincere smile? Is Uncle Scrooge becoming the next sex idol?
What’s next?
This is the story of a molecule; a molecule in a tear drop. Tiny, yet powerful when amassed with its millions of fellows, like an angry mob acting in a disharmony of unison. You, I, the eye creates it when emotions go wild and out of control. It’s joined by others instantly upon its creation and altogether they begin their downfall journey, gradually flowing through the salt mines until they reach a tiny opening which they could barely squeeze through. And the excitement begins, sliding down at an increasing pace with the help of gravity; going over hills and through the burnt bushes on the cliff edge. The free fall begins for the remaining few not subdued on the way. It’s sweet while it lasts but the impact is hard and they splash away from each other and leak into the soft ground beneath. They are shaken but they have survived, providing life force to a blooming flower, proving life still goes on.
The requested GRL://person was not found in this life.
Life may be down. Please make sure you are connected.
His world had turned upside down and from the depths of heaven, an angel emerged. With her smooth, silky white wings she carried him around where once the land had been. They flew to the ends of the world into divinity where no mortal had ever been. It was the first time he felt the gushing winds of joy, the warmth of an angel’s touch and the limitless freedom beyond. Tears of bliss drizzled down his cheeks, reaching a momentum and transforming into raindrops. The heavy makeup he had been putting on as disguise leaked off and blended into the cascade. He wiped them off with a roll of toilet paper and hurled it down. A rainbow of a thousand hues arched over them, each color representing a different shade of joy. Captivated by the angel’s spell, he figured out the true meaning of love and the impossibility lurking behind. Nevertheless, he felt happy for the short, sweet journey they had made.
It’s in our nature…we all want to connect like a tree digging its roots into mother earth. The earth understands the tree and it’s the same for the tree. The tree (technically, a sapling) grows, becomes stronger and bears fruit; the fruit of its own production. However, human relationships are nothing like that. ..at least not anymore. Unlike trees, we dispatch our weakest roots trying to cling on cement, rubber, metal or anything else but earth. We die from the inside and we’re not even aware.
It didn’t use to be like this; meeting total strangers online with whom you have nothing in common but an Internet connection, or liking duck-faced weirdos; trying to post witty comments on their profiles just to be liked back. We used to follow influential people, true leaders, now we follow for follow.
Follow my blog. ..for more 🙂
45 souls tightly stuffed in a tin can, breathing hot air in harmony in my direction (and no, I’m not describing human smuggling across the border). Droplets of sweat form on my forehead with each sip I take from my tiny but precious water bottle as perspiration becomes an instant reaction to almost any action besides thinking. I wipe my forehead with a dirty soaked rag and hold it in my hand to be able to absorb my own moist.
I shout to the cardigan wearing driver to switch on the air conditioning. He gives me a confused glance, as his hair is brushed aside with the wind coming from the only open window on the driver’s side. I hear an old woman’s amplified voice coming from the back of the bus, protesting about my rightful demand. She says it’s the breeze that makes her sick. Other voices arise all against me. I give up as the intense heat steals my will to fight and I pass out.
Going through hell on a mechanical hell hound every single day makes me truly wonder why people choose to live hell in life and yet they are scared stiff to go there in the afterlife.
Lise dragged me to the gents’ and we rushed inside a narrow toilet space and began kissing. Soon, we were half naked and the freezing toilet seat had already stolen the heat off my butt, making me hard…to concentrate. However, I didn’t care, we didn’t care, we had found ourselves in each other’s arms again. We kept going on although we heard other men came in through the outer door. I wasn’t going to be embarrassed, if Lise wasn’t.
Above is an excerpt from my flash fiction “La Verita” which started as a supernatural horror and transformed into horror-erotica upon publication. I have to tell you though that it was only me to blame for this misconception as I couldn’t decide whether it had adult content judging from the excerpt above, but I marked it as adult content to be on the safe side anyway.
I’m thinking of changing the genre to avoid angry masses of playboy magazine subscribers who had high hopes when they downloaded the book. First of all, there’s only partial nudity. Then, there’s no demon sex; only half-naked, half-baked human sex scene. ..yes, scene not scenes and etc.
What should I do? Please comment.
Daily Enigma #1 : Can you guess what I am trying to describe here? Please comment below… and no, it’s not a boat trip 🙂
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The stretching river ahead is long and curvy but the boat is ready. The tedious journey commences with a push and suddenly you find yourself in a very different world. You find it hard to breathe at first. The colors, the sounds, the smells and the feelings are all alien. Everything is new and nothing is like what you knew. You feel tiny. The warmth blanketing you for so long gradually disperses and you feel the chill to your brittle bones. You do not feel safe. Fear invades your body. You do not know if it’s the cold or the fear rocking you like a detached leaf. Probably both. Then suddenly, a familiar scent surrounds you. The abandoning warmth comes back with open arms, enclosing you. It was never a betrayal. Life welcomes you. Embrace it.
Painting by John Waterhouse…”Lady of Shalott”
You feel you are not needed, perhaps you have never been but this does not make you feel better. You’re lonelier than the loneliest man alive…or dead. You’re not the first man born and cerrainly not Adam or Eve. Yet, you’re lonely even when you’re by yourself, clinging to your soul, hugging it tightly. You burst into tears but even when each tear slides off your cheeks, it makes way only for itself, runs its course and drops onto the ground, splattering away and disappearing upon impact. You see the shady ghosts of people who used to be around you. You can hear them but they are deaf to you. In a nutshell, you’re in a nutshell rattling inside, hitting the concrete hard walls blindly, vagabonding freely in your inner prison cell.
Awake and alone. The silence in the bedroom is deafening. Half stretched on the bed, clinging onto the extra pillow for the odorless scent long gone. The brain starts an early shift while the muscles are still adrift. The same unforgettable memories storm to the defenseless mind. Unblockable. A single slipper on the floor facing the bedpost looking for its mate. Joining the search yields no results. Blood rushes to the brain and the hair gives in to gravity while dangling down, however, adjusting the point of view is fruitless; the right one is probably left at another place or time. The sudden jolt to the uptight position of the body reveals that the feeling of cold marble cannot steer away the fixated, empty looks but starts a languid effort to the next destination of the routine.
The kitchen cupboard provides two mugs though the steaming coffee is enough to fill just one. The unique aroma of the brew fills the mind with ancient but somehow fresh memories as if the nostrils had a weird kind of muscle memory even when it isn’t the coffee drinker’s favorite.Tears form but the steam is blamed. Fears settle in but the heart is tamed…
Barış Cansevgisi 