Jungautoren schreiben:Zum Beispiel darüber, wie aufregend es ist bei einer nächtlichen Streiftour auf leisen Pfoten Amsterdam zu entdecken. Katzen faszinieren uns. Doch wie nehmen die anmutigen Jäger eigentlich uns wahr?
Jetzt die neue Kurzgeschichte von Asmodean lesen!!!
Neue Kurzgeschichte: Auf leisen Pfoten durch Amsterdam weiterlesen
Chapter 4For several minutes there was nothing but mere breathing. The run had exhausted us to the level of complete physical weariness. Slowly my breathing came back to a normal level and I managed to slowly lift myself up and look back to the invisible wall. Four of those creatures were banging their ugly fists against an unseen barrier, yet I could not hear or smell them in any way. They tried to use their claws, legs and teeth to somehow break through, yet it seemed to be a futile effort. Their eyes were focused on us all the while, emitting hate and a non-human evilness, that made my skin crawl.
Thomas had also regained some strength. Fear and confusion, mixed with momentary relief about having escaped death, were the pieces of a complex puzzle on his face. He mumbled slowly, obviously not aware of either my presence, nor anything at all it seemed. Imagine somebody who got out of bed in the morning to walk to the bus, only to find himself looking at some kind of man-ape-bear who is trying to force his way through an invisible wall to kill him. That is what he looked like and describing that is a little hard it seems. I became aware that I had not wasted any thoughts on what this clearing really was. I turned around for the first time, looking at bright blue sky , focused on one single place in a dark forest. Around me, on the edges of a green meadow, were beautiful big trees in full bloom. Centuries-old oaks with strong branches , covered by a canopy of green, healthy leafs. Pine with strong green needles and impressive branches. Flowers covered the green grass I was standing on. They were in all colours and shapes, butterflies circled over them. The sound of birds intermixed with the humming of bees , gathering nectar busily. To wrap it up, it was the kind of summer meadow that teenagers would chose to have sex for the first time on a hot day in mid-July. In the middle of the meadow was some kind of large stone. When I looked closer, it seemed that there was someone sitting on it. I froze, trying to make out whether it was man or woman or a human at all, for that matter. I walked over to Thomas. When I grabbed him by the shoulder he spun around and looked at me wide-eyed, like someone falling out of some kind of trance.
‘Fuck’ , was all he said.
‘Look man’ I replied. ‘ I know this is all some kind of fucking nightmare. But listen, we cannot just stand here. There is someone over there and looking at those ugly freaks, won’t make them go away.’
He looked at me foolishly and said ‘Who is over there, what is happening here man?’
He was obviously still struggling with the absurdness of our situation. I certainly felt the same, but we had to keep on going somehow, so I repeated ‘There is someone over there Thomas. We need to get away from here and find out what or who that is. We are in some kind of weird shit here and maybe we find an answer over there’. He studied me intensively, nodding slowly.
‘yes, we should, ok, let’s do it’.
We made for the centre of the meadow, leaving the monstrosities behind us, their hateful looks piercing into our backs as we set off. The bright sunshine on our faces felt weird after the complete darkness of just a few minutes ago. Weird, but also beautiful, a warming, gentle sunshine…not too intensively that you would sweat, yet sufficient to make you feel completely comfortable and warm. The kind of sunshine you would experience only a few times in a year, the perfect day. It was strange to notice all that, to have those feelings in an absolutely outlandish situation as ours. Yet, I started to, well, yes, I felt good, as if I was on my way to some fantastic thing to happen. Excited, yet relaxed. Full of anticipation, yet calm. Self-confident, yet not arrogant. Aware of my strength, yet humble. What it was like for Thomas, I cannot tell. My senses and eyes were focused on this place in the middle of the meadow. This big stone, no wait, it was no stone. It was some kind of altar. A chair, a throne , yes a throne! We arrived at it and what it actually was, was the most elaborate and fragile construction I had ever seen. It was made of black glass, or something like glass, it was about four metres high and composed of a million of sparkling, little pieces. There was something female to it, yet totally commanding. Something gentle, yet untouchable. Something full of love, yet distant.
All things I am describing where put into my brain and now in my mouth, without actually knowing why. A powerful feeling was surging inside me. I had found a place that was beyond our human comprehension, a place of something wiser, deeper, something above the capability of our human words to be described. My feelings were my mouth. Something as primitive as human speech was not needed in a place like this.
My eyes slowly went upwards to the top of it. And there she was, sitting there and looking at me. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Was she truly a woman? She was a queen, so graceful and strikingly, shiningly, stunningly angelic that this word seems such an underestimation to describe her, that it felt like calling the Taj Mahal merely ‘nice’. Her face was angular, yet not really slim. Her cheeks were a little ample, yet not too full. Her lips were pointed and her lips were red. Her nose had a cute length and seemed perfectly in place, just where it was. Her skin was slightly dark, like a natural tan, as if Mother sun has left its mark on it to claim it for her. Her eyes were of a light brownish colour, to me they seemed like the entrance to a universe, the doorstep to heaven. Her angel-like appearance was framed by dark hair that were slightly curly in places and looked healthy and strong at the same time She was dressed in a beautiful green gown. The upper part was cut in a clinging style, so the shape of her fragile body was easy to imagine as I looked at her. The lower part was wide, like a monks robe, resulting into a strange piece of clothing that I had never seen before. Yet on her, it looked ‘right’, yes, as if her tailor was also her best friend, knowing every twist and turn of her body. She sat on her throne like the master of a realm, used to obedience and submission of others. Yet there was no arrogance of any kind about her. ‘Loveable’ is the only word that comes to my mouth, again not able to grasp the supernatural power of her. She looked deep into my eyes and into my soul. She seemed to look through all the walls I had built up inside myself to protect that little vulnerable core inside me, that was my true personality.
All these walls were wiped away as her eyes found the true me. When she seemed satisfied with what she saw, she changed her look and smiled at me. She showed no teeth, it was just a light movement of her lips, yet it turned all my doubts about myself to dust. Her smile had been one of those unearthly messages again. It had told me that all the doubts that I have ever had, all my weaknesses and inabilities were meaningless for her. She loved me for what I was and she approved of me. And I loved her too, I pledged my heart to her, totally and completely. Yet it was no selfish love, no demanding love, no jealous love. It was a love that would be fulfilled by the mere presence of her, by knowing that she was aware of me and that she was in agreement with me. I was willing to give my life for her , had she asked me to. There was no doubt about that. When she took her eyes off me, it felt like life itself was slipping out of my hands.
A deep feeling of loss washed over me, and I yearned for her eyes to return. She looked at Thomas now, her eyes studying him intensively. Suddenly there was a look of disappointment on her face. In that moment Thomas fell to his knees and started to cry and whimper. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his face a mask of desperation. Whatever she had seen in him I do not know, yet she seemed displeased for some reason. Nonetheless, her expression changed to that of a forgiving mother. She slowly opened her mouth and for the first time she spoke, her voice like a soft, cooling wind on a hot day in a dry desert: ‘It is good’ she said.
When Thomas heard her voice, a feeling of relief rushed visibly through his face and body and he laughed happily, bowing deeply while doing so. Her eyes returned to me, happiness filling me. She said: ‘It is time, my heart’ her voice a mere whisper which sounded like a butterfly passing by your ear. I did not know what she meant and what I was supposed to do. I felt panic coming up from deep inside me. To disappoint her somehow was a thought almost impossible to bear. She seemed to sense that and she smiled at me gently and reassuringly. I relaxed and she bowed down to take something from the ground in front of her. She opened some kind of metal box and from inside she took a sword. Its blade was white and did not seem to be made of metal or steel at all. It was impossible to say what it was made of , but it was obvious that it was a powerful weapon. Sunlight reflected on its blade when she lifted it high up into the air. Its point looked as if it pierced right into the sun. She stood up and threw the sword high up into the air. The sword spinned and rotated through the blue sky, the reflections of light on its surface created a beautiful arrangement of light and colour. I admired it like a spectator would admire a kite flying through the air. Not for one second did I fear that it might hit me or pose any type of danger to me. She would never hurt me, she loved me and I knew that as much as I knew that my own mother loved me, no matter what. It landed right in front of my feet. About half the length of the blade was buried into the ground and the hilt quivered slightly, before slowly coming to rest. I looked up on her. She gazed at me, consciously and expectant. I stuttered:’ I…what…’, glancing at her like a cow would look at an algebra-equation. ‘It is time my heart’, she breathed, before she lifted her arms from her sides, palms upwards, and moved her head back slowly.
Fortsetzung folgt
———————————————————————————–
Asmodeans short story „A strange day“ gewinnt mehr und mehr an Fahrt. Schaffen der Protagonist und sein Begleiter die Flucht vor den – ich sag jetzt mal – Monstern??? Eins ist sicher: Es wird spannend. Lest bei uns den dritten Teil der Kurzgeschichte.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 2It was hard to recognise anything through the window, but there was not much, except for trees, as far as I could tell. The fat guy was pacing up and down the gangway, sometimes stopping and looking outside, than walking the exact same way again, only to find the same view through all the windows he was looking through. I turned to him and said: ‘Hey! We need to get out and see where we are!’ He seemed oblivious to what I was saying, still pacing back and forth, his confusion and fear clearly on his face. I walked over to him and touched his shoulder to get his attention. He turned around as if lightning had struck him and looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. He started to stutter: ‘What’s going on?? What is this?? Where are we??’ Despite my own, hardly oppressed panic, I realised I had to calm him down somehow, if only to help myself. ‘I don’t know man, I don’t know…the bus-driver…’, I turned to look at the driver’s cab again, the memory of the horrible face still clearly in my mind. ‘What about the bus driver?’, he asked meekly, his face a battleground between slowly accepting the circumstances he was facing or becoming completely delirious. ‘There, there…he was….’. I was unable to speak out what I had seen, which did not exactly shift the battle on the fat guy’s face towards acceptance. ‘What’s your name?’, I asked, realizing that I had to keep talking, otherwise we might both go nuts.
‘Thomas’.
‘So you are Irish, I figure?’
‘Yes, I was born in Dublin, but studying here.’ I suddenly felt a ‘presence’ of something coming from somewhere far away. It seemed as if this something was so strong in evil power and hostility that no living being wanted to be close to it.
‘Ok, my name is Asmodean, I am from Amsterdam and I work here. Listen man! We gotta get out of this bus, and quickly. There is something, something coming towards here and this is not good. Don’t tell me how I know that or anything. It’s just a really strong feeling!’
‘Yes, I feel it it too and it’s malicious, he whispered, so silent that the words were a mere breath.
’We have to go’
‘Yes man let’s do it, I agreed, goose bumps running down my arms. And with that we made for the door. A few hard kicks got the fittings loose and slowly the door opened. We did not bother to search the bus for anything useful. The feeling of this presence that was coming closer to where we were, was getting ever stronger. I could also start to feel something more than that. He had been right, this entity was malicious and not only that. It was so full of raw viciousness that my body was trembling in fear, while my legs started to run almost by themselves.
We were heading into the woods without even looking where we were. Yet, it was obvious we were in a very deep forest. We had to pass by large trees almost constantly. Whether they were oak, pine or fir, I could not tell. All was dark. We were jumping over branches and stepping on stones and twigs. Thomas was not running any slower than me, fear giving him wings. His fat belly jumped up and down, while he ran besides me and his heavy breathing was the only audible sound to me. We had been running for about ten minutes and just when we started to become slower, of mere exhaustion, not because we felt we should, we started to hear the sounds of metal being bended and squeezed. It sounded like big machines at work on a construction site, only without engines.
The entity had arrived at the bus, that much was clear. Howls started to mix in with the breaking metal and they did not seem to come from one voice only. They were loud and angry, a guttural sound that was as horrible as it was disgusting. It was certainly neither human nor animal to produce those bloodcurdling screams. We were running again, the thought of having to face what was behind us striking terror in our hearts. Trees flashed by as our steps were becoming faster again. We were running for our lives, nothing less than that.
It seemed we made no progress. The sound of breaking metal had stopped a few moments ago. Yet the howls were still there and they became ever more urgent and excited. They were catching up! We both knew it, we felt it. Thomas eyes became ever wider, his breath more heavy by the minute. His large body could not take this pace any longer and I was afraid of what might happen when it would simply refuse to keep going. There was no time to think about that, though. The sounds of these ‘Things’ seemed to get closer by the minute. We would not make it! I could feel it in my heart.
It was a disgusting truth to realise that and fear is not the right word to describe it. Nor would terror, anguish or dread describe it correctly. Coming to accept that one’s life might come to an end in a few minutes is nothing but mind-blowing in the worst of all senses. Just when those thoughts were creeping inside me like nails ripping into flesh and my mind and body was not able to fight off that horrible fear in my heart anymore, in this moment when I was sure that whatever was behind us would just bring an end to me and throw me into oblivion in this moment I saw the light.
Fortsetzung folgt
———————————————————————————————
Als dieser Blog vor einigen Monaten geboren wurde, war es uns ein Anliegen, sowohl Leser als auch Scheiber anzusprechen. Bisher haben wir uns vor allem auf die Leser konzentriert. Doch mit unserer neuen Rubrik short stories kommen nun auch die Schreiber auf ihre Kosten. Regelmäßig wollen wir hier in Zukunft Kurzgeschichten unbekannter Schreiberlinge veröffentlichen. Also, traut euch und schickt uns euere Geschichten (die Rechte bleiben natürlich bei euch)!
Den Anfang macht eine shorty story, die im Urban-Fantasy angesiedelt ist. Sechs Wochen in Folge veröffentlichen wir je ein Kapitel der Kurzgeschichte „A strange day“ von Asmodean.
Chapter 1I felt quite as uncomfortable as every day when the alarm went off and pulled me out of a sweet dream, but the fact that there was no utter darkness in the room, but daylight shining through the window, told me there was more going wrong than just me being uncomfortable. I checked my mobile and it turned out that I had forgotten to change the alarm back to ‘work time’ after the weekend. 8.20! ‘Fucking hell’! It was supposed to be 7. A feeling of shock flooded me and wiped away all the remaining memory of my dream in an instant and brought me back to bitter reality in a split second. I ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth and I did not dare to think about a hot shower, which would have cost even more precious time.
When I left the house, I was just pushing my left arm through my shirt sleeve and I was off to the bus-stop. It was bitterly cold and an icy chill was in the Air. I felt like I was exploring a world filled with sparkling ice and snow people, only that there weren’t any and no real people on the street neither and no cars as well. I started to wonder whether I had missed some kind of ‘Bank Holiday’ or so, but I knew that was impossible. After waiting for the Bus for another freezing, painful 20 minutes it finally showed up and slowly came to a halt in front of me. Once inside, I checked the time again. 9.00 o’clock. So work had eventually started, at least for my colleagues, who were probably just discussing whether I would fake sickness after we spent yesterday evening together in the pub. Buses in Galway never go fast and the traffic jam in the morning is notorious, so I expected to arrive at work no earlier than 9.30. But since there were no other cars on the road, we were moving quite swiftly.
I had just stopped to wonder why there weren’t any, when I realised that something else was weird. I was all alone in the bus, except for another guy who was so fat that he had to take one of the seats that are usually reserved for wheelchair users, since they offer double the space. There was an eerie silence in the bus. Like it was not really driving. No engine sounds, no sounds at all to be precise, almost as if you were travelling in one of those flying things in a science fiction film. The only sound came from the fat guy who was fumbling around on his MP3 player, trying to find the right song, which made him oblivious to the fact that the bus was supposed to be full of people at this hour.
I tried to calm down and look at the bright side and welcomed the fact that I’ll probably be on time, despite my late departure. So I started to relax and my thoughts drifted to back to important things, like football and woman. After a few minutes had passed by, we came to a roundabout on which the bus was supposed to turn left and go to direction work from there. But to my great shock it went straight right, in the opposite direction. I thought: ‘Oh shit, what the heck is he doing’. For a few moments I hoped there would just be some kind of mistake and the bus-driver would look out from his booth with an apologetic smile and tell us everything was fine. When this did not happen, I got up from my seat and rushed to the front to find out what was going on.
I immediately realised there was something much more wrong than just a missed exit. The closer I came to the front of the bus, the more I felt a strange fear starting to take hold of me. I suddenly stopped. Something deeply unnatural was in the air. Every step in the direction of the front of the bus seemed like a stairway into hell. There was no darkness, nothing had changed, I was still standing there in this Bus, about 5 steps away from the driver’s cab. Yet there was something cold, hateful and deeply vicious radiating from that direction. It was so intense, that it was almost tangible. I held my breath and tried to force down the panic that was starting to take hold of me. I looked at the fat guy who was still playing with his MP-3 Player. For a moment I considered trying to talk to him and get some support in this, but I was not able to speak. My mouth was dry and I started to feel the hair on my arms standing up. There was no other way, I had to see what was there. Not because I was thinking about being late anymore. I sensed that I need to get out of that Bus or something awful would happen.
I slowly approached the driver’s cab, every step taking me ages. I turned to him to speak, but no word would come from my lips. The driver looked as if someone had drained all life out of him: A misshapen figure with skin as white as snow. His hands clung to the steering wheel as if he would fall over as soon as he lets go. He turned to me in an extremely slow movement. I was too stunned and disturbed to say anything, or to even scream. Eventually his eyes fell on me: They were dark like black holes. He looked like a corpse, sitting in a chair. Only strands of hair were left on his otherwise white skull. Yet there was an awfully aware intelligence inside his eyes, combined with an abstruse animal-like eagerness, like a zombie-wolf that spots a deer. He held my eyes locked. Slowly his mouth turned into a sneer. His lips parted, his voice a mere gurgle: ‘End of the line’. Suddenly I heard a scream of anguished fear from behind. I turned to see the fat guy, suddenly out of his chair and finally realising there’s more pressing matters to attend to than his music. He looked at me with eyes wide open and stumbling: ‘What’s going on??’ I turned back to the driver’s seat, only to find it empty. Where a few moments ago a dead, but not quite dead man had been driving the vehicle, there was only an empty seat. I looked at it and still I was speechless, like I had been for what seemed like a lifetime. Before I was able to grasp a coherent thought and process this madness, the fat guy stood next to me. His skin had become just as white as the drivers’, yet not because he was dead, but out of pure, uncontrolled fear and alarmism. He grabbed my shoulders and started to babble: ‘What’s going on?? Where are we?’ I looked at him, dumbfounded, not knowing what to answer (yet again) and looked out of the window: All I could see was a dense forest in pitch black dark at 9.30 in the morning. I started to realise, that I probably would be late for work, or I would never get there at all. But that seemed to be my smallest problem in this moment.
——————————————————————————————–
Mehr zum Thema Kurzgeschichten