He stopped. The wind was heavy on the right side of his face. Which meant, he was either moving in the right direction or the wind had changed. Which was possible here in this valley. The wind here was almost more chaotic than the world outside this place. Giant mountains, topped in snow and ice, stood in the darkness, showing their support to the world – nothing less. The trees moved heavier and faster at the same time. The wind…
I should have done it. Click the button. Or step on the button. Or hammer my fist on the button. Anyways, I should have done something. Life is not easy not being able to press the button. Yes. Press. This is the word. A button has to be pressed down to activate something. But what if the button is fake and you pressing it would create the normal unscripted outcome, like destiny made by the gods or so? Or would…
He was heading out the town. The streets were already full of people who had had the same problem and the same solution. They were running. Walking. Crawling. Driving. Yes, even driving. When he saw the masses moving slower than molasses on a cold winter day, he decided otherwise. He stepped into the side street and walked along the rotten fruits and meats laying around like they were no one else’s business anymore. He entered a 24/7. He was alone…
He was running. I was running. He was crushing through the bushes, almost hitting one of the trees, but he was faster than that, his thoughts a dozen times more magnificent than mine. And yet he was running and I was hunting him. His breath was loud and his face almost white. All his blood was in his hips, his legs, his feet. His arms felt weird, almost shrunken. Thats the problem with those thinkers, they are bad at running…
One last friday was her wish, had been her wish. He knew it. It had been years ago, that promise about one last friday. But she had died on tuesday and on thursday she had been buried in a shallow grave next to her favorite spot near the churches door, where she had spent her time waiting for him. And now it was over. Her flesh had been eaten away by worms and other godless insects, but it had been…
He was crawling, lower than the rocks in front of him, jagged and angry rocks with their voices full of despair and an eternity of suffering, imagined and real. He stopped, looked up the sky. A few clouds were dangling on the heavenly tent, looking at him and his wounds. He smiled grimly, put down this club and put his mighty hands on the rock, cleaned them from the blood and the ooze. He then took his club again. The…
There once was a king. He was no real king, because in the country, he lived, they had killed the kings and emporers many years ago. But still, he was a king. A kind of a king. He had survived by eating rats. And people say, that you become, what you eat. So he sat on his little toilet-throne. And he pondered. And he looked up on the wall and saw the pictures of the former kings. I mean: not…
A few Kilometers later, Viktor stopped. His lung was burning. Again he wished for mechanical legs. Behind him, the former golden statue of the Goldelse was staring into the nothing, having lost her head a few years ago, when a madman had wanted to make love with her, flying his self-built balloon next to her face. The police had handled him. And the explosion had handled the statue. No one had cared afterwards. Berlin was already mad and dying. Viktor…
Water hit him like a bomb in the back. It was cold. It stank like 30 years of bad climate. It felt more like slime than water. He now was under the water, in the black darkness of lightless nights. Probably not even sunlight was able to cut through the stuff, the old Spree-river was now made of. Up, up, he had to go up. Something hit him on his leg. Moved. Disappeared. Still going up, Viktor felt another movement…
Darkness moved over and created patterns of light, orange, dirty orange and scratchmarks on the old windows. Berlin itself seemed to leave the realm of reality and became just a thought, less than a dream. The ropes shook and Viktor tried to see, how the inside of the box looked like. The gaps showed nothing more than a few bronze-painted walls and black flowery suits moving. As Viktor looked up, the tower shrunk, almost as if it would crush him…