The World, from my perspective

He sat there on the pier; legs dangling over the ledge, eyes focused on something beyond the horizon  and his hands holding an old pocket watch. It was an old, rather worn, silvery watch with roman numerals and hollowed out center so you could see the interior mechanics of it. And you could see all the cogs and springs softly turning, making the minutes go by one by one. And all the while the man sat there holding it, while gazing out at what seemed to be nothing in particular. To a passer by, sure, it looked like he was admiring the sunset or the gentle rocking of the waves on the nearby cliffs. But if you looked a little closer you could see the unfocused eyes of a man who was looking inwards rather than outwards. He seemed to be looking back in time at things passed rather than at the magnificense of nature that was happening right in front of his eyes. And all the while he was stroking the pocket watch. Maybe he was thinking about how he got the watch? How it...

Varje semester började egentligen redan sent på vintern. Då, när slasket fortfarande låg på gatorna och vinden än blåste rått och grått, började den grundläggande planeringen. Tekannan fylldes med någon nyinköpt teblandning och ställdes tillsammans med kopparna på bordet där de fick trängas med kartbok, laptop och utskrifter om alla de platser de ville se och besöka. Över många kvällars tedrickande blev sedan diskussionerna många och långa för att pussla ihop alla drömmar och önskemål till vad som slutligen som vanligt blev en bilsemester nere på kontinenten. De hade tidigt insett att bilen var ända sättet för dem att kunna kombinera deras skilda intressen och favoritställen: hon ville uppleva storslagen natur och vandra över fjäll och hedar, medan han ville se gamla slott och fornlämningar; företrädelsevis med besöksparkering och näraliggande b & b. På så sätt hade de tillbringat en semester körandes runt i England där hon fick sitt med dagsvandringar på hedar och han si...

Du känner säkert igen typen från alla filmer och böcker du sett och läst. Den lite äldre, gråa gubben som har slitna kläder, en hatt med långa kanter och stort burrigt skägg. Byxorna är extra slitna runt knäna och skjortan längst nere på ärmarna. Han går lite framåtlutat, krokigt och verkar vara lite stel i benen. Han som alla i den lilla staden vid bergets slut kallar för konstig då han, trots att alla andra vet att guldet är slut, fortfarande håller på med sin panna vid sin bäck eller med sin hacka i sin gruva. Han, ja. Det spelar ingen roll vad han heter i efternamn, eller egentligen heller vad han heter i förnamn; för alla kallas de antingen för Gamle, Galne, Knäppe eller Tokstollige Jim, Jack eller kanske Bob. Varje liten by verkar ha en av dem. Denne guldvaskare som vi nu ska fokusera på kallades i alla fall för Knäppe Kurt. Från början hette han något annat, men efter snart tjugo år vid sin bäck med inget utom en ömmande rygg och slitna kläder att visa upp, så ty...

Cardinal Ernst von Henckelman was in a rather somber mood this evening at the palazzo, just outside of Rome. He had poured himself a quite liberal drink of Napoleonic Cognac and was puffing on a Ramon Allones Specially Selected while enjoying the comfort of a leather armchair in the library. In his lap, was a huge tome, which he opened and begun reading the ancient history of the Order. It was a matter of doing things the way they had always been done; borderline superstition. He had read the same chapter of the tome on every evening he had sent someone out on a quest to fight the powers of darkness. As had his predecessor and his before him, all through the ages. For the Order was old. As old as the Church, most of his order-brethren would say. But the fact of the matter was that without the Order, there would be no Church. Actually, with almost complete certainty, there wouldn’t be much of anything anyone would care about on the darkened, scorched, remains of God’s green Earth. Von H...

He stood on the tarmac, two large handcrafted suitcases, a carryon and a carefully rolled package beside him and waited for his pickup to arrive. Deciding to make use of this moment of unexpected solitude he opened the package, revealing a close to one meter long sword in a scabbard. He went through his carryon, finding his ever-present whetstone and began sharpening the thousands-layered blade. Being pleased with his work, he slid the sword back into the scabbard and opened one of the suitcases. Browsing through the assortment of luggage they had packed for him, he finally found a plastic case close to the bottom of the suitcase and took it out. It contained a pair of Glock 18.s and plenty of 33 round 9mm jacketed hollow point magazines. Realizing that he probably had some time for them too, he took a seat on his other suitcase and set about wiping them. “Where was that friggin pickup?” he thought, while polishing the glowing black harbingers of death. A few minutes later, he saw a be...

The journey to Campino was just as uneventful as one might expect when driving through Rome in the middle of a weekday; traffic aplenty with Vespas zipping through traffic like they owned the road. His driver apparently had some skill and experience with Roman traffic and spent most of the drive continuing the interrupted discussion about football, even once in a while throwing a question or statement back towards the back seat. Absalom gave them some non-answers, having decided he wasn’t going to be mocked for his good taste in teams, by these Polentone. Actually, he wasn’t even Italian, but having had Rome as home base for as long as he had, it was the only home he had. Now, if he only managed to persuade the Cardinal to give him a palazzo of his own, he’d have nothing to complain about. The car pulled past the normal parking spaces of Campino Airport, barely stopping to show the security guards their badges and pulled onto the private part of the runway. While most air-traffic into ...

He followed the Cardinal through the grand hallway and out on a balcony, where a servant had already set up a light lunch for them. On the table was an antipasta platter with fresh seafood and in season vegetables, accompanied by a crystal decanter of white wine. The Cardinal took his seat at the table and started browsing the platter for what he wanted, while Absalom strolled towards the railing of the balcony and enjoyed the view: the Eternal City stretching out in all its glory in the far off background, rolling hills and small villages surrounded by farmer’s fields nearer by and the meticulously tended garden - set up in a style reminding him of the Boboli Gardens in Florence, or even the Parc de Versailles – in the foreground. Truly a magnificent view, most befitting a renaissance Nobleman. Which it probably had was, a few hundred years ago. He joined the cardinal at the table, helped himself of the food and poured a glass of wine. The tableware seemed to be Venetian Murano; as al...

He remained standing, holding the back of the visitor’s chair. Knowing the Cardinal as well as he did, he imagined he had cut a bit of the front legs, making the seemingly very comfortable leather seat much more unpleasant for the unknowing visitor. Before answering the question, he looked around the room. As always with the Church, he was pleasantly surprised by the mixture of ancient and modern: a medieval crucifix hung on a wall next to a 50” plasma screen; a renaissance bookshelf next to a printer. Old mixed with new; maybe they should take that perspective on certain rules in the Church as well? He turned back towards the Cardinal, who looked at him expectantly, arms crossed over his chest, hiding the gold crucifix he had in a chain around his neck. But just as the Cardinal was about to repeat the question, he said: “To be frank, I haven’t got a clue. I thought we’d banned them for at least a few years since we managed to close that last Gate?” The Cardinal leaned forward and mov...

Waiting for his pickup to arrive, he gazed over the Piazza and ended with the balcony where the Holy Father himself stood when addressing his flock. He hadn’t had time to attend his latest sermon, which tore some at his conscience. Not that much though, considering what he’d been doing at the time, but still he felt a pang of guilt about it. “Well, he thought, hopefully I’ll be in town for the next one.” He saw a black BMW X5 with tinted windows pull onto the square. The few tourists there gave it strange looks since it was supposed to be a no-driving zone, which didn’t seem to be an issue for the driver nor the Swiss Guards who stood strategically placed around the piazza. The driver stopped the car at the bottom of the stairs and he walked down them towards it. A very large man, dressed in a black suit with a bulge under his armpit, stepped out of the front passenger seat, opened the right back door and nodded to him to get in. He stepped in, took his seat on the soft leather, strapp...

It looked like it was going to be another beautiful spring day in the Eternal City. The sun rose slowly through the morning mist into a blue sky crystal clear above him. He looked down on the still almost empty streets, with only a few early birds like him milling about. Mostly people heading for jobs where if they did it right, no one would think about them having done it. People like janitors, garbage men, maids and cleaners. People like him. He stood from the chair, emptied his glass of Evian and walked in from the balcony. Passing through his bedroom he slowed down to cast a quick glance at the woman still sleeping in his bed. It had been a most pleasant night; she in her early twenties and eager to please. He, a bit older than that, but then more experienced. He couldn't really remember her name, but since she would with all certainty be gone when he returned, he didn't care all that much. Still, he silently walked up to the bed and kissed her on her cheek. With a last loo...

"She was beautiful", she thought. "So tranquil, clear and deep. Deep with so many secrets never to be told; secrets lost in the memories of all living things, perhaps for all days to come." "Are you drifting away again, my love? Still thinking about her?" Wilhelms questions aroused her from the light slumber she had fallen into. With a nod she answered him, and with a smile he replied. "Wer can't go on thinking about her, sweet Gertrude", he said. "We've got a lot more urgent things to worry about. For example how to survive months on these land-ships, travelling these dirt-roads. I really think my arse is going to fall off before we come to this Hal Lake that Ms Sacul has told us so many wonderufl things about" "I know dear", she replied with a so sweet it would enchant even a sun-elf nobleman. "But I cannot help to think about all those things that we have left behind. And since the Vetters signed the treaty, so...

"Yet another successfull trip Knabe, those giant officers really love our fish!" The elderly merchant sat back on the deck of his houseboat as it ventured back south on the Sendar River. "Right y'are... and they don't seem to get enough of it either." The younger one responded while running about, making sure that everything was in order. "Well, Kleiner, as long as they want it... we'll keep selling it. Just hope this squabble 'bout the rogues in Ulmnia doesn't interfere with this business. I've really got my eyes set on that coat I saw in Seljak... wonder if the tailor could cut it in my size?" "Sure thing... just bought a dress for me Frau and no probs in getting 'em to cut it in the right size." "Good thing, very good thing... always good to be able to please 'em Weiber." Slowly, the houseboat loaded with fresh goods from Seljak, slided down the watery mass towards Smithstown. For even though the relat...

*Scheisse! How are we supposed to get this scheit to shore?” The deputy stated angrily as he looked towards the shore. For near the shore, many naval vessels were positioned; guarding their location. “We don’t stand a chance getting the cargo to him; no matter how much he’s paying we can’t.” “Don’t be such a Feigling, we’ve done this plenty of times before… and you’ve never complained. Or are you turning into a Hänchen?” Jürgen answered his deputy with a smirk on his face and returned to his cabin. Before he had a chance to close the door, the deputy followed him in and went on with his complaints. “But don’t you see, the Amazonen are at war now… it’s much harder to slip past the ships than it usually is. And our contact has even been relocated to somewhere else. I didn’t even get a chance to check to were she was sent.” “So that’s what this whining is all about…” Jürgen said, as he slipped comfortably into his rocking chair. “You simply miss your li’l lady.” Laughingly he turned towar...

Denna snubbe ska vara hjälten i mitt nyaste alster, som allt eftersom det skrivs, dyker upp på bloggern. Har haft ett skrivsug i några veckor nu och nu ska vi köra tills jag tröttnar...

It was a cold winters night. A Cristal clear sky and wolves howling at a bloody full moon. A night when the cold drove even the hardiest man inside. A night ruled by those that no-one speaks off and fewer have seen. A night when even the ice craved heat and the fish dove to the deepest parts of the lakes. Simply put; it was a really, very cold night. But inside the tavern, everyone was in heat. In one way ore another. Either rubbing it in from the buring fireplase or feeling it from the strong drinks. In the inn songs were sung, pirchers were drained and bottoms were pinched. Not just by the men. There was a feeling of merryment and joy. For this was midwinternight. After this night, things would start too look brighter. The days would get longer and the cold wouldn´t be quite as unbearing. And as very few could do any work during the present conditions, people did the best they could to keep themselves entertained. One of the men sitting in the tavern, draining pitchers a...

Nu blir det en liten saga, skriven av mig: Lurking through the shadows, evading being seen, the young man glided through the forest. Barely disturbing the branches and leaves that lie on the forest floor, he slid almost like a cat. But beneath all this apparent serenity, his heart pounded like a smith on his anvil. He could almost swear that anyone within a thousands leagues had to be able to hear him. Apparently no one did though, since he was still alone and not a shout or a word was uttered at him. One more tree, one more passing cleared. Almost there now, almost done with what he had to do. Almost a clearing, almost a mission accomplished. The barge lay on the shore as it was supposed to, gently rocking in the calm spring breeze. He quietly glided into the still cold waters of Lady Lake and used a few swim-strokes to get to where he was heading. He quietly levered himself onto the barge, and snuck towards a nearby door, opened it and stepped through. “Nobody there”, he thought as ...

Lurking through the shadows, evading being seen, the young man glid through the forest. Barely disturbing the branches and leaves on the forest floor, he slid almost like a cat. But beneath all this apparent serenity, his heart pounded like a smith on his anvil. He could swear that anyone within a thousands leagues had to be able to hear him. Apparently no one did though, since he was still alone and not a shout or a word was uttered at him. One more tree, one more passing cleared. Almost there now, almost done with what he had to do. Almost a clearing, almost a mission accomplished. The barge lay on the shore as it was supposed to, gently rocking in the calm spring breeze. He quietly went into the still cold waters of Lady Lake and with a few swim-strokes, got to where he was heading. He quietly levered himself onto the barge, snuck towards a nearby door, opened it and stepped through. “Nobody there”, he thought as he stepped towards the far corner of the room. But as he almost felt s...

I was playing a game awhile back which required oneself to write fiction. And since I like writing fiction (and since no-one else will publish it), I'm going to publish them here, from time to time.