Perfect funeral music. (Poem)

Another poem inspired by happenings in the outside world.

The eerie yet beatiful sound of the piano spread slowly throughout the air
Like a magnificent fish slowly swimming through clear water
The sounds sparkling in ears like tiny rainbows created by a waterfall in the sun
The eerie melody conjuring a moment of magnificent sadness in the listeners
Reminding them of what was gone and at the same time the magnificence that might await.

Continuing further the waves of sound refused to disappear until everyone were enlightened.
The moment was to be spent in happiness and sadness to best present the manner of human life.
Waves of sound enhancing the concentration until the moment seemed to linger.
As if a last demonstration of the true stubborn nature of the deceased.


Poem – Dreaming

Mankind’s very own evil
May continue to seem surreal
Through the night or through the day
It’s all a bunch of crap some might say
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

However truth is rarely told
By the masses of humans who think they are bold
Continuing throughout our lives
The evil of mankind thrives.
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

Growing growing everlasting
Evil’s hold on the world casting
The world itself into shadow’s hold
The darkest of stories that remain untold.
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

Yet in humans hope still resides
In silence those people the evil abides
But one day the truth will come forth
In the east, west, the south and the north
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

One hundred.. and Fifty (Fiction)

The man opened his eyes slowly, and to his surprise found himself standing in the middle of a road in something remotely similar to the American suburbs he had once known so well. He paid no notice to the truck heading his way, and continued walking towards it. The first sign of impact was when his nose was pressed flat against his face. He stopped, realizing his nose could not have struck the front of the truck as he now was standing behind it. The fact that he had the ability to pass through trucks provoked no reaction whatsoever in the man, instead he pressed his fingers against the air in front of him. As I thought, thought the man as he started testing the seemingly impenetrable air with his fingers.

A growing sense of unease wakened in his stomach. He could not seem to pass his fingers through the air, moreover the man was unable to see anything different about the area. Somehow he knew that waking so close to the border of your territory was unheard of, which was the only reason he felt the need to test the air at all, but to anyone else the most obvious irregularity would have been the slow monotonous music of a foreign voice telling him “one hundred… and fifty” seemingly from the depth of his mind. Despite this the man kept pressing his fingers against different parts of the border, just to make sure that indeed it was the end of his territory. But of course, he thought irregularities often appear concerning the first of each week, this must be the case here.

The man again unsurprised at the information seemingly devoid of a source. No longer interested, the man turned away from the invisible wall and peered into the windows of one of the many almost identical white houses. Old age well, organ failure, how boring. He thought as he moved on to a house nearby. Car accident eh? He thought and started walking down the middle of the road again. He knew that it could take days, weeks, months and even years before he actually found someone that piqued his interest enough that he would alter their lives. Just finding something like a car accident was a rather rare occasion.

After inspecting a few more houses, cancer and heart failure seem almost too regular, what’s wrong with this neighborhood? He thought, and was getting rather bored, however slowly he could feel an ominous presence closing in. He could sense that someone whose life had been changed was nearing his position. And at the same time he could feel that the cause changed for the people living in the house he was closest to, now when he examined the married couple sitting on the couch in front of the TV, the foreign voice in his head whispered murder.

“Impossible”, a short story?

This will be my first attempt to write something in quite some time, so I decided to try to write something other than fantasy, something different, so anyway here we go. (Due to my imagination maybe it will end up as a fantasy story later on.) If you get offended by seeing someone swear two times in 1000 words you should not read this. 🙂


A bead of sweat formed slowly on the left eyebrow of a young brown haired man as he drew a deep breath. This had not happened before, never. Why is he here? he thought, trying to figure out some way out of the mess he was in. It was so easy he thought, oh so easy. So why not now? Why was he rendered unable to do it? Chemicals he said, it’s only a chemical reaction you idiot!

The brown haired man was standing in a rather small room, facing the man that he considered his best, and only, friend. The man he faced had been standing as close to perfectly still as humanly possible, but now he seemed to relax and walked slowly towards the brown haired man. It’s alright, the man said, I told her Ted, it’s alright, you haven’t done anything wrong. The brown haired man, Ted, looked incredulously at the man he was facing. You told who?

Ted asked, and forcibly stopped himself from scowling. Staring at the man in front of him, the man wore a green sweater with glaring red dots all over it. Thump! a wooden baseball bat impacted with the left side of Ted’s head with considerable force. Ted’s eyesight wavered, and as he fell sideways to the floor, the 9mm Glock flew out of his hands. Me said a voice, a woman’s voice. Impossible he whispered, barely audible, I shot you in the h.. The woman cut him off with a short laugh, Impossible? She asked, Hardly. You see, Ted Everything is possible.

Ted laughed, No, not everything. This is impossible, this is a dream, yes a nightmare, it must be so! Ted whispered fiercely as he moved his left hand slowly towards the knife in his left pocket. I’m crazy, oh so crazy. He thought and felt like laughing again because of the stupidity of the woman who did nothing to stop him. His hand was half way into his pocket when he noticed that the knife was elsewhere. The woman laughed her soft silent laugh yet again. Looking for this? Ted on the other hand was not even slightly amused, he turned over, onto his back and froze as he noticed his knife, a huge recently sharpened knife, was placed inches from his face.

“Beasts do not use weapons”, those are your words Ted. She said, “Not because it makes it difficult, no, because killing with their feet and hands and teeth feels better, so much better” I’m not a beast woman, I didn’t try to do this for enjoyment I was just bored. Ted said, and all amusement drained from her face, replaced by anger. “In a worst case scenario, make them lose their composure, and strike quickly after.” Ah, the joys of being a realistic man. He thought, although he had never imagined the “worst case scenario” as being outmaneuvered by a simple woman.

Of course, the reason I chose to target a woman, is because of they are such horrible hypocrites. They go on and on about how shallow men are, and yet given half a chance they would be ten times more shallow than the men they “hate” so much. They are weak, they get half disabled when pregnant, they’re not even smarter, besides if we do not kill say around half of them, over populating the world will become the largest threat to the world itself in all of our existence. Ted smiled of course, being the smart young man that he was ted did not think of women that way, no he only disliked most of them. If I can just keep talking for a little while I will get back my ability to move properly.

He thought, an abrupt movement made him focus on the woman again just in time to notice the weight of a full grown woman landing on top of him and a knife rushing down towards his throat, DAMN!, Am I really going to end like this? Me ending like this, there’s just no way, that’s impossible! He thought frantically, Don’t kill me! He said, just as the knife stopped dead, only having cut through the skin on the left side of his neck. No amusement was left on the woman’s face, only cold determination was left. Will you do what I tell you to Theodore Auswald? She said calmly, her blue eyes staring firmly into his green ones. Wait, how do you know my name? Ted said, eyes wide in surprise, he was sweating slightly as he tried to think of a possible escape route.

If you won’t, she said, trailing the knife down his torso, down to his belt. Then this thing goes first, she said touching his zipper with the tip of the knife. You men are so laughably useless, we don’t even need you to reproduce anymore, hah! Ted swallowed hard, You can’t do that, you’re a cop right? He said, trying to somehow move under her weight. And? Like I said, nothing is impossible, if I want I can have you saying that you did it yourself before we arrive at the station. She said in an amused tone, accompanied by a wide smirk. No, Ted thought and was well aware that he was losing his composure, there was nothing he could do to stop it given the choice he was just handed.

But, he thought, considering his situation trying to find an escape, seconds later, he realized what he had to do. Okay he whispered as if he was embarrassed. The woman raised her left eyebrow and said, Just remember what happens if you don’t. She placed the knife between her jeans and her belt and rose, You get up too. She said, Hah, what a stupid woman. She still faced him as he staggered up and as he rose himself to a crouch, he smashed the flat of his hand into her nose, placed his knee firmly in her stomach and gave her a blow to the right side of her head with his left hand, a combination that would have sent any regular human to the ground, but she just stood there, coughed once and said Do not hit me or kick me again, that’s an order. She said. I felt her nose brake, I hit the side of her head hard enough to knock out a grown man, and she coughs once? Ted thought and it was then that Ted noticed a small hole that went straight through her head, and realized only her hair had hidden it until now.

What the hell? Ted thought, and started backing away from the thing that looked like a woman….

Notes: Just to clearify, this is not the end. Lying in the bed and writing with the laptop on top of my stomach is in a way easier than sitting in a chair and typing, maybe the ideas originate from the pillow.


Before i have told you about the good commenting to do to your blog, interested visitors that actually will read some of your blog, links back and even comments back most of the time. I do not believe that this applies to spam, I wonder how I even get this many spam comments as it is, I got more spam comments than visitors to my blog, probably it’s some sort of evil spam bot that should never have been made in the first place, that tries to place links on unprotected blogs, with no concern of what those links (often to adult sites and at the very least almost never has anything to do with the blog at all) I wonder what kind of people put the ruthless spam bot to work to spread links that probably would not help at all, and I wonder what motivates them to try something like spamming out their links.

Maybe they think that it will somehow bring them a mass of interested visitors and make their businesses or sites succesful, earning them money, sounds like something someone unknowing would do. Thinking that there is something out there that will help them like that without them doing anything special. Well, I will advise anyone who think they can achieve anything by spamming to take a second, read a few lines on the blog you are viewing, (or on any blog instead of using a spam bot, you can search a blog search engine for topics that has something to do with your own) and then post a comment related to the actual post with your name/alias and the url to your site (almost any commenting service will offer you to do that seperately from the actual post.)

Afterthought: I wonder what the automatic generated related posts system is up to, apparently my post is related to this: “Gemma Arterton Steamy Scene with James Bond” uhhh, how?

The life of The Damned.. Part 2

For some the actions of the characters might seem apalling and I would not reccomend you to read it if you abhor reading about violence/criminalities no matter what the story. I do not however base the entire text on violence and “criminalities” so if you are up to reading something inventive for a change you would do yourself a favor by reading on.

The Mender felt exhausted as he walked away from the alley, and despite the young woman’s urgent tone he could not make himself increase the pace of his walk. Typical, I have just mended her and she tries to tell me what to do in return.. “My lady is hold captive by your organization, They torture her often and for no reason at all.” She was repeating herself he noticed, but he did not offer her the slightest amount of attention. “For Great Mother’s sake! She needs your help or she will be tattooed!” Abrubtly he stopped, the woman’s lady was also a witch? For Mother’s sake indeed. “Fine I’ll help. Do you have any idea where they hold her?” He didn’t want anyone to experience the same fate as him, not even a witch. The tattoo at the back of his neck started throbbing lightly, a slight reminder from his mistress that he should have been back at his room by now. After the endless hours of being tortured for the smallest missteps he almost didn’t notice. Something dragging at his right arm snatched the endless array of thoughts away from him, “This way.” The young woman standing at his side said as she was dragging him eastwards. After a while of pacing through narrow streets in this filthy town she dragged him to a halt in front of a middle-sized house with the mark of the damned on it. The black hand with no thumb was placed straight above the huge doorframe. The house was not large, but not small either, and the fact that there was a large amount of clear space to all sides of it confirmed the fact that this was a residency of the damned. Noone wanted to live close to the damned.

He straightened and shook his head slightly, realizing that it was a bad idea. Then he opened the door. A huge man was blocking his path, “You have no right to barge in here, Mender!” The man right out shouted the words into his face. “Your mistress will hear of this.” Another voice said, the threat did not affect the Mender in the least. Instead he willed for the damned and his mender to be slung to his wall. He focused his mind on it and felt strength seep out of him at the same time as the clash of flash against wood was heard. He ran over to the blackhaired woman lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, took her into his arms and ran out. The last thing he heard as he exited building was three strained words. “She will hear.” He ran with her in his arms to the nearest alley, and did not stop focusing on holding the damned and his mistress pinned to the wall until he could no longer see the house or the street it was in. After that he paused in a specifically dark and narrow alley were he healed her wounds that had been created by torture. When he brushed the hair aside from here face he looked properly at her for the first time. His eyes widened as he noticed her features, her face was an image of perfection. This seemed odd to him, but after she came to, he led her towards the wooden town gates. He hid all the tattoos and the mark on his uniform when they neared the gate, and amazingly they came through without any trouble. Abruptly he started feeling a maddeningly painful sensation of burning heat all across his skin, he fell to his knees grunting in pain, he thought this was what happened to damned who walked beyond the town border, it was not until he was lying on his side cringing in pain and the woman with the perfect face leaned down, put her face clearly in front of his and smiled wickedly he realized it was her. “I saved you.” He said and the effort of it sent him into unconsciousness.
The mender was sitting on a grassy hill watching the sun set holding the hand of the woman sitting next to him. Her face was oddly familiar but he could not tie the face to a name or any memories. So he decided to just sit there and enjoy the view however, he did not let go of her hand, somehow it felt comforting holding her hand, he had no idea why he should be upset. A realization came to him “This is a dream” He thought, but given his inability to remember anything the moment after he thought it, it was gone from his mind.

At the same time a women of remarkable resemblance to the one mender was watching the sunset with was pacing around a large room thinking. Why would he dissapear like that? She thought, and even though she allready had a myriad of answers, none of them seemed to hold up with the fact that he had felt an enormous amount of pain before she could no longer feel him. He could not be dead, she hoped he was not, he might see it differently but she had begun to take a liking to her so called student. and if he was not dead allready she was not about to let him stay in the bad company he obviously was in. But she could do nothing unless he returned from unconsciousness. Will he return from the dead to if that is what he is? A voice said inside her head, she reminded herself that everything went better when you stayed positive. And decided to even as hard as it was, to stay positive. She took red bracelet from the table in front of her and fastened it to her right arm and reminded herself to stay positive. Abrubltly she started to sense him again, and at that she ran out of the room to fetch help. She had never felt so relieved in her life.

The mender was still sitting silently on a grassy hill watching the sunset holding the hand of a woman when his vision started to fade, it felt like someone was slapping him but he could see nothing so he thought he imagined it. He felt another slap land on his left cheek, he ignored it. Another one, he opened his eyes slowly. The first thing that greeted his eyes was a hand rushing forward against his face. He tried to raise his hands to shield himself but to his surprise found that they could not budge. The hand landed on his left cheek hard enough to make him taste blood.

Will add more later..

The life of the Damned Part 1

I have been suffering from a severe case of writer’s block lately, but suddenly as I was kind of boring myself nearly to death my imagination worked itself to new hights. If you’re reading this, I hope you will consider reading the entire post and even post a comment. Thank you in advance. Oh and if you notice any difference in the size of the letters, I’m on my brothers laptop at the moment, sitting in some damn old house far out in the countryside.

There was a cold breeze blowing into the face of the Mender as he drew closer to the backstreet in where his chosen victim lay in shock. Mender, bah! They call me damned for the simplest reason, I am different. He noticed the positure of her body as he came closer, she was simply lying slumped in a curled ball, bloody and beaten. He readied himself, he cleared out all thoughts and daydreams, this was not a time to be distracted.
As he walked into the dirty alley, he crouched down in front of her and took her head into his gloved hands. “Brisman, what happened to this poor gal?” he asked the man for order standing to his left. “The poor girl was raped, back and front, by many damn pervs, 5 is my guess. And mender, do your best.” “I always do.” She’s likely to be past any of the other “damned”’s abilitys, so they send me! He thought angrily, but there was no question in him helping her or not, he would help any within his ability, and he doubted there were any that he wouldn’t be able to “mend”. He focused on his hands, he put his entire awareness into focusing on his hands as he felt the sides of her head. He kept focusing entirely on the fingertips of his hand until something snatched his consience away and into the unknown. He could sense memories and sensations all around his extended awareness and he floated willingly around until he arrived at the source of her physical pain, and then he put his will to stop the floating and followingly he stopped.

He tenderly entered the source of the pain with extended tendrils of his awareness, this singular memory had been enough to shatter the remaints of sanity that had been present in her mind before the incident. Poor young girl. He thought just as he realized that she was just about his age. Time to get to work then. He let himself float around and about the girl’s awareness noting to himself what she could be doing lying in an alley at this time of day. After a while he figured that the best he could come up with was that she had been robbed, which wouldn’t carry with it the everlasting memory and pain that rape would.

So he thought of the memory as he remembered it, and sure enough, when he entered the memory closest to him, it was obvious that it was the right one. First, a blow to the head, and then awakening to the terrorizing fact that there were men standing all around her, and that she had something foul-tasting in her mouth. He instead thought of waking up laying pained and slumped curled in a tight ball realizing that her money was gone. And as he thought, her memory changed, making it identical to his idea. He simply prolonged the lying through the length of the memory, spicing it up with some twisting and a few sounds, but as he did, he was forced to experience the rape as she did, and allthought this pained him, he tried to convince himself that he had felt worse, allthough he wasn’t sure that he had. In the aftermath of finishing with her memory, he was simply floating around willingly letting himself being pulled around by the swirling presences of sensations and memories. Then he caught himself, and started out for the source of the physical pain, at the center of the nerves in her awareness. And then he flung his entire awareness between the nerves and her own awareness and willed thepain to pass faster, increasing incredibly in amount of pain, but it wouldn’t last longer then a few seconds, as his mind wen’t blank by maddening agony he willed it to pass faster and as he did the pain increased. Yet after 15 seconds that seemed to last forever the pain let go, and this bode well, for then the wounds would have knitted back together and the flesh would have healed. This was a crucial time for he had to get out before she returned from her state of unconsiousness.

Yet when he tried to swirl past the edge of her awareness he heard the word “Ungelistable” uttered. Damn, she just had to be one eh? Of course, we are talking about my luck here. He was close to despair as he hurried to the edge of her awareness. As he was closing the edge of her awareness, a spark of hope was born but as he reached it he felt himself blocked. Bloody witch. His mind rang as 3 words were spoken by an insanely loud voice “Well hello there.” The voice seemingly slightly amused. “Don’t do this to me.” He imagined himself speaking inside his mind. The voice spoke again, it was clearly female. “Why not, you entered by your own accord of course. You wouldn’t happen to be this lad who has his hands on the sides of my head would you ?” “I was simply here to ‘mend’ your wounds after the robbery. As to your other question, yes that is me.” “You seem young to be one of the damned in this town.” “Am I supposed to
tolerate this from you?” “Well since you’re at my mercy here, I’d suggest that you learn some manners, or else I’d might decide to get you lost.. Forever.”

A blogger’s nightmare

Another day, yes, a new day, new opportunities, the world lays at your feet. But in fact it does not, the further you go into the presence of day, the more you feel that the world is definately not at your feet. In fact you start feeling that the world is as far away from laying at your feet as is possible for the world. So after having a meal for breakfast, that tasted lousy, you logged onto your computer.. Amazed you realize that your computer at least is working fine, the internet and all, so you try to log on to your blog to tell the world how your day is working out.. You trie once.. “Blog doesn’t exist in our database.” you try twice, “Blog doesn’t exist in our database.” and the third time you try, you allready know what is going to happen.”Blog doesn’t exist in our database.”, you visit your own blog, and again it says. “Blog doesn’t exist in our database.”. You naturally assume that this is happening to everyone else using the same blog service as you, so you visit one of your friend’s blogs. But your friend’s blog does work, you start looking through the posts where you’ve been commenting, but there are no comments from you on any posts, so visit another blog, and another, and another, there is but one common streak. Your comments are erased from them all, all signs of you ever existing in the blogging world gone, no one would remember you for your blogging capabilities once you were gone. You started to realize that this might be the build-up to your murder, so you turn around, and to your shock you see a Man in an FBI uniform pointing a gun at your face. “Your blog was too controversial” He says slowly, “Sorry” and then he squeezes the trigger.