Flash Texts

The three adventurers looked at each other before entering the weird looking cave. Almost perfectly circular, not even an even ground to walk on. For the past few weeks something has been pestering the local village and the three of them were asked to check it out. Not wanting to pass their first chance at adventuring they agreed and set out, without asking many questions. All that they knew is what George learned while getting pissed again in the tavern. The farmers told them that some fields are losing some crop, while others were completely ploughed over. One farmer even claimed that his dog vanished during a very rough night with a lot of earthquakes, but most just assumed it just ran away from him. All three of them now looked at each other, none making any gesture to move. Then Silvya just shrugged her shoulders and stepped in, followed by Borval and then George. Stepping through the entrance only the sunlight lit their way, yet it got not too far into the tunnel, so they lit som...

I know I am late already, I will post the other text as usually. No excuses other than my mind being not where it should have been. What would I give to know more? To know what others, think and others do. Is there something I should stop doing? Is there something I should keep doing? Is there something I stopped doing, but should pick up again? What would I give to have a little spy that tells me more. This or similar I imagine that the spying started. Wanting to know more than one should. Maybe there was once someone that was good at learning information and sell it off for profit. Sure, it might almost certainly Started with gossip. But it evolved from there. To snitches and then finally to the spies we know of today. Embedded in organisations, gathering intel and betraying it to the superiors, who do who knows what with it. But I sometimes would like to know what people think of me. If I should or should not have done things. It would help me being better and improving. But are the...

There they are. Fresh of the press and ready for duty. They are arrayed up with all their brothers ready for duty. One by one they are shipped out into the wild to help people. Most of them will be used in supermarkets helping people carrying all their groceries. Some are sent out to books stores or hardware shops. Some select ones will store their brothers for future use. But most of them will be discarded. Thrown away to linger. To see time pass. Some will make friends only to see them decay. Others will go for a swim and hitch a ride with one of the many animals, only to be dragged down to the bottom of the ocean. For a few years they stay in the dark. Being ripped apart by the forces that tear at it. Some will end up with their friends, holding on to each other and all their brothers that were made before them and all their cousins, cursed to float the seas for all eternity watching civilization fall and hoping that the next might be able to relief them from their immortal pain. On...

  The sun burned down as we all sat in the clay hut. The host offered us tea and apologized for not having much to eat. We graciously accepted. The hear was almost unbearable, yet the house was still somewhat cool. The translator explained that the hut was built in the traditional style. It allowed for a continuous air flow and kept out the heat as much as possible. After exchanging some pleasantries Tom asked for what we came for. We’ve heard that this man owned some manuscripts from before the fall of the Mali Empire. We didn’t know what these manuscripts are about, because the man never learned how to read. As the translator asked for them the mans face grew stern and his smile vanished in an instant. He looked at us gravely. He explained to us that for generations they have protected these books and scripts. The whole village stood up against assailants to defend them from being stolen. He said that his family has been the keepers of them for a very long time and he would not b...

There she sits on a stage, in a chair too large for her. It towers over her, the back rest reaching out into the darkness above her, as if it wanted to escape the light that focuses solely on her. Her slender arms are almost swallowed by the armrests and whenever she nervously reaches out to fix her hair it just does not want to let go of her. A few steps away stands a podium, on which is lies a small booklet with a colourful cover. But she cannot see it. Her chest quickly rises and drops, and the light blinds her. Only muffled sounds, traveling over from beyond the stage, betray the people in the darkness. Chairs are nudged and coughs and murmuring of the people that just arrived is heard. Slowly she stands up. Straightens her back, puts on a smile and folds her hands. It all looks choreographed. Slowly she steps towards the podium, while the first applause starts, and the people start to quiet down. As the light slowly dims, it reveals a room full of expecting people. Friends and fam...