What If…

you discovered a spaceship in your neighbour’s garage?

I have moved into my parents house when my father passed away. It is a quiet suburb. It suits me. The hectic lifestyle of the city brought me only ulcers and a heart attack. Now I work from home as an accountant. I have a dog. Benny. He was my dad’s. He is twelve. I walk him every morning. It is usually dark when we go out. We meet the young kid from across the street with his puppy labrador. I think his name is Max. The boy, not the dog.  Sometimes we see the nurse who is renting a studio at the end of the road. She wears that ugly blue uniform that somehow looks really great on her.

I also help Mr and Mrs Parker to do their bills. Mrs Parker doesn’t talk much. Mr Parker even less. I go over to their house once a month to sort out their invoices and receipts. Their house is immaculate with tasteful decorations. It feels almost like entering a catalogue picture. Mr Parker always sits in the library, reading. The books there are arranged in rows and rows of librarian perfection. He barely lifts his eyes to acknowledge my presence. Mrs Parker always prepares a tea. Exactly the way I like it. The cup remains full and the liquid pleasantly warm during my whole stay in the study room. Mrs Parker must be keeping an eye on it. She has the gift of moving without a sound.

One day I finished the paperwork earlier than usual and went to the polished kitchen to find Mrs Parker. It was empty. I thought she must have just taken a cup of tea to Mr Parker so I made my way to the library. It was equally empty. I was not familiar with the rest of the house and it felt wrong to raise my voice to shout for their attention. I was lost in the eerie uncertainty of my next action, when I heard a noise from the garage – beeping and humming noise at the same time. I turned around and walked through the back door.

My first instinct was to scream and run but Mr Parker looked at me with his placid look that gave you no chance. My body was moveless, frozen in trance while my thoughts desperately fought the incomprehensibility of the situation, my sanity on a brink of extinction. He kept his gaze locked until I finally felt calm on the inside. After all it was not that crazy. It was actually rather understandable and most definitely really cool. Mr Parker owns a spaceship. I asked: ‘Could I have a ride?’

What if challenge January


Day 22 of Zero to Hero  (yes I am behind again…but it is finally Friday so I am catching up) has challenged us to new challenges. Yay! Fun! Hurray! I have started following three new blogs that provide exactly that. The one that has really caught my eye [visually a very disturbing image btw (does everyone read btw as by the way now?)] is thebookshelfgargoyle – firstly, what a brilliant name! secondly, 50 words flash fiction! thirdly, the prompts are up for half a year! I have noted down all six and will start working on them as soon as I’m done with this post. I love organising and lists and planning. I am planning the planning of the planning. I am a Virgo. That is normal with us.

I have accidentally found out how to do ‘page up’ on Mac in the process of writing this random collection of words (if anyone out there knows where the Mac version of ‘Del’ key is, please let me know. My PC withdrawals are less severe but I still have bad moments. I did managed to find #).

Day 23 Roundup post. I guess I have sort of started in the first paragraph. Although the second link is a big cheat (I do secretly think it is funny though. I do apologise.). I don’t think rounding up is for me. I am more than happy to mention whoever and whatever that inspired me, made me think or made me smile and provide their links and references, and most importantly share my love of them. But I would like to do it in a less organised way. [What? Less organised? But you are a Virgo?! – I am also  a Monkey so my life is a constant battle of two completely opposing feelings inside me (those opposing feelings sometimes manifest themselves in my actions. Just like now.)] So. Roundup. In the moment. When it means something. Not waiting for the end of the week.

It’s Friday night and I am sitting at home catching up on my blog….and worst of all, I was looking forward to it since Wednesday…I think I can bury my social life. Please someone write a eulogy.

I will catch up on Day 21 soon-ish. Or eventually.

“Khaleesi” byTonya Ingram and Venessa Marco


us women; merely second opinion
but first appetite
are taught early how to restrain the wolves,
when the men converge
all gnawing teeth and salivating fangs
these insatiable men who snarl us out of our lineage
sabertooth non-believers who cannot consider
how loud we can be
how brass and trombone this world has played us

there is no place here to
unravel yourself for them
bow your head
unlearn your name

for those of us
who introduce
the bold- face of mouth
become a whore’s tooth
become agile breast
become unbounded thighs

I learned to be quiet
when the anvils of
a false prophet
mistook my 13
for playground

only the quiet survive

I saw my mother
give her body to a man
she didn’t even know
didn’t even love like that
my eyes swallowed the whole of him and her

and all that it meant

to know who I came from
shook loose her skin
the last time a lover begged for me beautiful
for origami hands someone
who could crease fold his skin
I told him
I was the aftermath of paper
when it bows out of pretty
when the wind smacks it straight on its back

we’ve been smacked straight on our backs

too often for someone to assume us to be fragile daughters of eve
simple creatures only of night
and the devil who plagues us

we are not only a mouth and luring siren
we are the women

who dare think of ourselves as more than a fuck
when we lend are thoughts to breath
we know often
we are speaking the words that will kill us
for we are then called


never a voice
just static sound

I learned to yell
when I met the devil
he would make cigarette burns
on my mother and call it chimney
birthed me a riot
now I speak with intention
will not cower to the buildings of men
who belittle me orphan
chastise all that I have to say
it is always too much or nothing
all nag or too shy

when your voice is a shot gun: a warning
to the careless
they will make sweetmeat out of you

go ahead
I have seen hell enough times
to know its scorch
it has taught me to forge this voice into a sword
sharpened tongue that’ll carve the bones
back into your lost
your stone-jaw threat does not cause my peace to be still

this is our birthright
this is our inherit
we are women who capsize entire crowds
with the sayings of the wind
holy knuckles
of fight

Too Many Options

You’ve been kidnapped and given a choice: would you rather be stranded on an island, dropped into an unknown forest, or locked in a strange building?

I have never been kidnapped. Unless you count a summer camp. My guess is that I would be initially stuffed somewhere with serious lack of fresh air and/or natural light. So being locked in a strange building is going off the list as first. Although strange is not necessary creepy, right? Strange can be quirky, eccentric or just plain weird but quite interesting to explore until the ransom is paid. I have changed my mind, I am keeping it in the run.

The second choice is an island – not bad really, unless the island is located in a close proximity to the polar circle. In that case I’d rather be locked up in the strange building. Preferably with central heating. But let’s pretend the island is blessed with mild weather patterns. This would give suitable conditions for plants and animals (read: food) to be present. Presumably the island is uninhabited and the animals not used to a tall creature walking around on hind legs so they can react in two ways:

a) they will put their shyness into overdrive and hide – bad –

b) they will engage in exploration of the new species – good – possibility of dinner

Obvious problem. You have to hunt and kill and in these two disciplines, I have zero experience. Except for  terminating insects (limited to those freaking out my beloved). I personally have nothing against insects. They are rather vital part in the chain of life actually. Plus bees are super cute. I don’t kill bees. Or ladybirds. Or spiders (exceptions apply). Or bumblebees. Or dragonflies. Or any other pretty bugs – especially if they are colourful and shiny in the sun. Though I have no mercy with midges….but back to the point. I don’t know how to hunt, or shoot (I tried shooting cans…they were in a very safe place) or actually kill an animal. And I don’t want to. It would made me cry. Conclusion – animal reactions a) and b) are irrelevant and I will become a vegetarian. Not a complete disaster. Plus you have the beach. Island is shortlisted.

Lastly, we have an unknown forest. With forests, you have the certainty of finding food. Or becoming one. My uneducated guess would be 50:50 as I am of the clumsy-and-weak tribe specialised at being chained to a desk for nine hours a day. Quite risky. But I love (read: LOOOOVE) forests. They have trees. And trees are just fantastic. I think of trees as people, you know, like in The Two Towers. So possibly not the best environment if I want to keep what’s left of my sanity. But at least there would be someone to talk to. Also I am more familiar with forests than  with islands. For these reasons, an unknown forests stays in the game.

So, I have shortlisted: a strange building, an island and an unknown forest

Now for the deciding element: Which one did you say has the dragons?

Daily prompt | Captive’s Choice

The search by Barbara Marsh


I questioned everything alive –

beetles, daddy longleg spiders,

the crayfish at the bottom of the yard

in Mr Sampson’s pond, the pond

that appeared and disappeared

with the rain and provided frogspawn

for my bucket. I kept it in the garage,

watching as it became small-tailed beings,

before the squatter bodies, their struggles

to evolve and survive without being

eaten by their own kind. The harm

lay in forgetfulness and I don’t remember

that they died; I can’t recall what I did

with them. Perhaps I put them back

in the pond, or took them to school,

poor little black dots of anxiety,

their only world red plastic, seconds wide.


From To The Boneyard

Dear Tutor


I have started studying at university three years ago. I have chosen a subject close to my heart and one I believe should be introduced to everyone. I remember the excitement when I became an official student again, the enthusiasm I was filled with, the prospect of boosting to my friends about a second degree. I remember the first day – students and tutors discussing together and in groups, the room was alive with eagerness to learn. I remember one of the tutors especially. He was brilliant. Knowledgable, engaging, smart, entertaining and I was little disappointed that I wasn’t assigned to his group. Although my tutor turned out to be rather brilliant himself.

My first course was amazing. I couldn’t wait to sign up to another. And another. And another. Some more digestable than others. Last year I signed up as well. I dropped out after two weeks. I just couldn’t find the time. Of course few months later, I have signed up to a new one. Dedicated to renewable technologies and guess who was to be my tutor? I was delighted. Then I missed the first tutorial. I knew that I would not finished this course either.

I work full time. I go to  the gym four times a week to get in the shape for all the half-marathons, marathons and 100km runs I have decided to do this year. (Ok, the 100km is ‘just’ an endurance walk but I did it last May. It is super-tough.). I have found passion for creative writing and this little blog was born. I also have friends that I actually like to meet from time to time and I don’t really mind coming across some occasional entertainment and even romantic interaction.

As anyone juggling too many interests or projects knows, something must eventually go. Ideally, it would be work. Problem is, the work pays the rent, food, going out, studying, workshops, travelling and everything. I am not giving up writing or running either. There is too much passion involved in those two. I will be 34 in August and I live with a member of the feline kind so I cannot really abandon the social life. People might start to talk.

I don’t struggle with the studying material, I have actually read most of  the +500 pages book, but I have not even attempted to submit the assignment. It is not that I lost interest in the subject. Environment, sustainability and renewable technologies are to me more important than ever. It’s just that I lost interest in the assignments, projects, deadlines and exams. All of the excitement has slowly evaporated like rainwater from pavements. The magic is gone. And yes I know it sounds foolish because I have invested money and time that now seems to be wasted. Not to me. I have learnt great deal of things that no one can take away from me. But I don’t want to do things because of money or because they are rational. I want to do things with passion. With my heart. Not with my head.

Shakespeare vs. Pratchett

On the day no. 11 of Zero to Hero we got to explore the blogoverse and left our marks in a way of comments on various blogs. I stumbled upon this fantastic post. Firstly I realised that I will have to schedule several catch ups with some of the authors on the list and their books, and secondly that I am really not reading enough – what happened to the times when I finished two books in a week!? Do the days suddenly have fewer hours?

It also got me thinking. Funnily enough – guess what is the challenge of day 12! – Extending one of your comments into a post! I know I am little bit behind again but the work has started, the old laptop is still dead, and I am only discovering the secrets of the newly unpackaged Mac…and yes I am very good at finding excuses.

Shakespeare vs Pratchett

Opinions are all around us – presented to us or even forced upon us – by parents, friends, schools, media or random people on the street. Some may think their opinion is the only right one (and I usually find it mildly annoying when I have to conclude that they are actually right).  We can choose to do many things with these opinions – accept, ignore or transform them. And sometimes the opinions just sink on us, get mingled with our own ideas, experiences and dreams.

I think loving a book, or indeed any form of art, has very little to do with its quality, perhaps not for literary critics, but I, the common reader – I am looking for connections, reality escape, entertainment. I do not have the statistics but I am pretty sure that 50 Shades trilogy was read (and enjoyed) by more people than the epic War and Peace.  To be perfectly honest, if I ever find myself on a deserted island, I would rather have Harry Potter than Dostoyevsky for a company…which is admittedly rather different situation to the question presented in Paul’s blog. (Well, I did take the selfish individual route.)

So The Sonnets or Good Omens?

No one should have the right to decide which book is worth saving more. Every book that was loved by at least one reader is worth saving.