The garden

The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive. As I walked around the huge rose bushes I felt their strong scent and could hear the bees buzzing in the distant cherry trees. A light breeze refreshed me once I found myself facing the old pond. The frogs were enjoying themselves making their rusty concert quite loud now and then interrupted by quick, sudden plunges. Blue dragonflies were peacefully circling sweet flags and I stood there for a while, mesmerized. In the distance I noticed swings and decided to test my luck and see if they can still hold my weight. Despite the wines or may be due to them the swings welcomed me softly. However, I didn't dare to swing so I just sat there and felt safe and calm, like I hadn't felt in years.

Letter

As he flicked through the letters, a small, handwritten envelope caught his attention and his heart began to thump. The familiar handwriting with somewhat childish circles and twists made him smile. The was a sudden urge to tear it open immediately and read it there in the hallway. However, John rarely acted spontaneous, everything in his life had its order and procedure. Letters were always opened in the afternoon after 3 sips of afternoon tea. Moreover, letters were never torn open. He had a special paper knife for letters and it took him good 5 minutes to open the letter. First he would inspect the envelope and use magnifying glass to admire the stamps, then he would make sure that the procedure of opening the envelope will not damage the letter inside and only then he would carefully cut the envelope open. Then he would write down the date and name of the sender in his pocket book. He would carefully take out the letter and evaluate the amount of written text and any supplements if they are present. He would take another sip of tea and start reading the letter. He would read the letter 3 times: first, he would just read it and enjoy, then he would read it the second time and jot down the topics discussed in the letter and some meaningful facts in his pocket book. The third time he would read and put down the questions the sender had asked in the letter. Then he would spend the rest afternoon thinking about it, but he would never write the answer the same day. It would take him couple of days to plan and write the letter.

Traveller

That day, I was wandering around as usual. I liked being on my own in a foreign city. It made me stay focused on the present moment and really love it. I noticed every house, street, odd graffiti, weird advertisement and people . Although, I don't notice so much details of people passing by as I am aware of their presence. People are city's only predators and the only ones to be afraid. I used to brush of the fear creaping up in me every now and then, but today was different. For the first time I really noticed the unnoticables. I saw people living on street. I observed them making their bed next to the shop that'd closed an hour ago and placing their suitcase neatly on the said, tucking their preschool kids in. All this while I slowly creap by. No walls hiding them from the eyes of strangers or cold winds, no roof protecing them from rain.  I felt uneasy. Suddenly guilty of having too much and real fear of losing it.

Project

New day. New life. That's what they said. It sounded great. Inspiring even. They spoke with such confidence that I envied them. I've never had anything as exciting in my life. I have never been so passionate about something. Their eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm as they spoke about it. They would go on and on and on about the benefits of this project. I was just listening in complete admiration. Totally mesmerized by their eagerness, body language and openess. So, here I was hundreds of kilometers from home two months later. Terrified, with no confidence whatsoever, unable to speak clearly and totally lost. I don't know anymore what was so appealing about all this. Right now it was just crazy amount of work, no appreciation and regular lack of sleep due to my inner insecurities. However, the insomnia was the least of my problems.

Morning

A bullet passed by near me. I ducked instinctively and hid behind the garbage container. I didn't see who the shooter was and I didn't know if I was the target. My heart's mad pounding was accompanied with rapid, shallow breath. I crouched in my hiding place frozen in terror. My mind kept racing but there was not a single coherent thought to which I could grab to calm myself down. No more shots followed. It was very quiet, even birds had stopped singing in anticipation of something horrible. I didn't dare to leave my hiding place, so I just inhaled the horrid smell and listened to my own heart echoing in my ears. I still couldn't believe that my wonderful 4am walk, had turned into this mess.

Airports

A little bit of hope, is what we all are looking for. Maybe that's why I like airports so much. People go somewhere full with excitement, eyes sparkling, or return from somewhere peasantly tired of new impressions and experience. True feelings, true emotions. Airports have their magic. They are like a bunch of old, classy laidies who slightly misbehave in public and everyone is ok with that. I like how people lie down on the floor, take of their shoes, strech and do all kinds of other things they wouldn't do elsewhere. And it's fine, because you can do that here, it's a safe place. You easily find yourself talking to strangers. Airports somehow unites people for a brief moment.

Dilemma

A gunshot. That's all I heard. Then heavy, steady footsteps. I had an impression that he was looking for me. Of course I couldn't actually tell if that person was male of female from the place where I was hiding, but somehow I was convinced that he was a man. I pulled my knees coser to my chest and tried to breath quieter. Silence. Some footsteps. Silence. He was taking his time, almost enjoying it. I could feel the panick slowly rising in me. The feeling that I have to get up and run away was almost physical. It was hard to sit still. Finally, the footsteps moved away.
I believed that he couldn't have known that I was there. Nobody knew that. Anyway, I had to be careful not to leave my hiding place too soon as he might be watching. Suddenly, I heard the Police sirens approaching. If I stay here too long it will be damn hard to explain what I was doing here.

Delayed

Time was passing slowly. I dragged my suitcase behind me aimlesly walking from gate to gate and watching in growing disappointment how all the shops and caffes were closing one after another . The bubbly life that had been here just an hour ago had died. People, walking by in a hurry, with certain aim, were talking foreign tongues. My pace was slow. My feet were aching, and I decided to find some seats comfortable enough to lie down and stretch my legs. I found my quiet oasis at the furthest gates and ejoyed the opportunity to place myself horizontally. I was not sleepy so my mind revisited  the places I'd seen today. In particular the colourful jungle in the museum of contemporary art. I'd felt immediate joy once I saw it. It might be due to some resemblance of Dr. Seuss books. I smiled again and it echoed in my whole body till it reached my relaxed toes. Suddenly, there was yet another stream of passengers. My oasis was disturbed and I looked at them without any interest. The feeling of disappointment about the delayed flight was back.

Passenger

"Get out while you can!" he whispered in my ear.
The sickening smell kicked in before the words. I did my best not to gag in public and it made me really angry. I wanted to snap back some wiseass joke about soap but noticed that he was already at the far end of the carridge. His eyes piereced mine and I felt uneasy, so I shifted my attention to his clothes instead. He was wearing loose trousers of undefinable colour and a red T-shirt with some dentist logo on it. That was kind of amusing to me since he had just one tooth visible in the lower jaw and two in the upper. He also had just one shoe which was polished and neatly tied. The bare foot was skinny and dirty. Together they reminded me of two sides of society -the rich and the poor. I took a quick glance back to his face and noticed that he was still looking at me and murmuring almost inaudible saunds like he was coursing me or perhaps praying for me.

Signs

I didn't hear him come in. My head was full of clouds and they were making a storm. I could feel the pressure raising. My eyes had lost their focuss. I tried several times to close and open first the left then the right eye. Even closed both of them for a moment but still nothing. The image was not blurry, I just couldn't see clearly some spots. I decided to go to the bathroom and try to splash some cold water in my face and stretch some muscles. As I stood up my head felt dizzy and my fingertips grabbed the edge of my office desk turning the knuckles white. I looked at my colleague and wanted to say something but coudn't, as if I 'd forgotten how or what. I knew that this something was right there in my mind but I couldn't put my words around it. But it was different kind of forgetfulness not like the one when you suddenly forget a word or a phrase and you wiggle it around the tip of your tongue till you remember it. And it was also not like that forgetfulness when you enter the kitchen and don't have a clue why you came there. This time the feeling was more physical. I knew what I wanted to say and at the same time didn't know, like it was somewhere beyond my reach. I tried to joke it of but my heart skipped a beat when I saw genuine concern in the eyes of my colleague.

Coward

There was only one thing left to be done. I looked at the small mount of boxes, bags and sacks in my living room. It will all be gone soon. They will arrive and take away every single bit and store it away. As I entered the naked kitchen my footsteps echoed in other rooms and it made me feel like a little ant in an abandoned shell. The place seemed huge and foreign and every sound unnervingly loud. There was only one thing left to be done. I fidgeted and went outside in my backyard. Stripped from all the stuff it looked greener and magnificent. My hands gripped the railings, my heartbeat slightly raised and I finally picked the phone from my pocket. I wiggled it in my fingers then got lost among the posts on my Facebook wall. They startled me by suddenly arriving, I guided them to the living room and gave the last orders. I felt a sharp pain in my chest when they took the first couple of boxes so I turned and returned to the porch. Finally, I took out the phone again, breathed out heavily and wrote a short message - I 'm moving to China today! Bye! As soon as I pushed the button send a tiny voice in my head screamed "coward!"

Mentoring

There was only one person there, on this midnight train thudding through the countryside and slicing this pitch dark matter with its beam of light. But he didn't notice any of this, he was somewhere else. His thought trail had taken him to the sunny beach where he 'd hold her hand for the very first time and now he was reliving it again and again. He could almost taste the salty wind that had played in her blond hair. He could almost feel the tiny sand grains that stuck to her hands after  their work on sandcastles and could almost hear the crazy seagulls screaming their heads off. It was two days and 6 hours since they'd bid goodbye, she'd smiled and suddenly kissed him on the left cheek. He still remembered the sweet smell of her. That kiss took him off guard and shook the ground under his feet making his knees wobbly. Jack had been mentoring him through these unknown waters of courtship and now he had to wait 11 more hours and then he would call her. He wanted to do everything the right way and Jack had loads of experience he 'd had many girlfriends.

Rookie

There was someone at the door.
I heard the doorbell ringing and stood still my back glued to the wall in the livingroom, my palms sweating, my heart racing like crazy. There was as persistant knocking on the door and the man's voice called out his name. I held my breath. I could hear his footsteps on the porch then rattling around the window. I closed my eyes. Another round of doorbell ringing and heavy knocking on the door later he was gone. My muscles ached with tension and I breathed out with relief falling on the floor with a quiet thud. My mouth was dry. They will come back eventually, I must hurry.  I run through the baskets, boxes and drawers awkwardly. I kept knocking things over and then catching them the very last moment. My hands were shaking and I felt desperation quickly brewing in my chest. "Don't cry now!" a thought I put on repeat like mantra. I swallowed hard and some tension was releaved. Suddenly, I heard the car doors slammed and some heavy, steady footsteps on the gravel. I was shocked but I didn't run or hide but kept looking through the drawer at hand, like I was in a loop unable to get out. Just as I heard the jingling of keys, I found what I was looking for and it broke the spell. I grabbed the USB and hid myself befind the sofa. The door opened and closed, the heavy, tired footsteps entered the livingroom. Then there was a welcoming sound of sofa greeting the body and with a silent click TV became alive. I was stuck here for a long time.

Crime scene

The victim had tried to write something as he was dying, but it was not very clear what he meant with this scribble. The nails were torn from his fingers as he had been trying to leave the unintelligible message. He was more like a skeleton than a human and it seemed that he was kept there until he died of starvation. His ankles were damaged by the steel ring that kept him chained to the wall. Sally noticed that there were some worms enjoying themselves on the flesh of the victim. The smell was unbearable. Apart from the victim there was nothing in this small windowless room. As she was looking around she spotted the youngest police officer in the corner of the room, he’d turned pale and was hardly breathing. She signalled her colleague and he took him out on the street before he messed up the crime scene. Sally had gone through this herself during the first couple of crime scenes and even though she had become quite though this place still made her a bit nauseous. What a horrible way to die.

Urban hunting

A drop fell on me.
It landed right in the middle of my forehead. I brushed it away in disgust with my palm, but I didn't take my eyes of the door. Just a simple blueish door with 157 bullet holes in it. Nothing unusual for this neighborhood. What I wanted was a certain who exiting it and I was ready to wait as long as necessary to get what I'd come for. I stood still in my hiding place like a wildcat waiting for its prey. I had been there long enough for my nose to adjust to the reeking smell of the garbage that formed a weird shaped pile next to me. No one could tell if there was any container in it, no one cared.
Another drop landed on my face, this time on my left cheek and I brushed it away again. I hoped it won't rain tonight. A car drove by flashing its lights. They didn't notice me but I had a quick glimpse of my hands. I felt sick in my stomach because they were stained red. I knew immediately it was blood since it was nothing unusual in this neighborhood. I also knew exactly whose blood it was. My gut feeling has never been mistaken before. My stomach rumbled, I gagged and vomited behind the the pile of garbage adding my share to its disgusting glory. I wiped my face and headed towards the fire escape ladder and it took me 2 minutes to reach the landing on the third floor. There he was lying in that awkward position with his eyes open and a coin sized red dot on his forehead. I instinctively touched my own forehead. So Jimmy was dead. My gut feeling told me to get out of here because someone else was out for a hunt and I will be next.

Distance is relative

"This too shall pass!" I thought to myself.
It was less of a random thought and more like a desperate, conscious attempt to convince myself to continue. My feet were killing me with every step I managed to force. "Just make it till that big rock and then you can sit down for a while and rest!" one more silly strategy that seemed to do wonders with my will. I felt a small victory when I touched the stone. It was warm and its surface was covered with a bit of sand which I  clumsily and quickly brushed away. I exhaled as I sat down and felt immediate tiny relief as the pressure on my feet was eliminated. But just as quickly the feeling of relief was substituted by ongoing ache. I was facing the parking lot where my car was parked just some 200 meters away and just some 5 kilometers further was my home. It was small distance yet today it felt like I have to cross a whole continent to reach my car and home was beyond my reach even if it was just in my thoughts. I still didn't know how I'll convince myself to reach the car. Forget it ! I cant even convince myself to stand on my two feet again and crawling was not an option either. I was so close and at the same time so far from my home. Will I ever make it?

The messenger

Opening my eyes slowly, I heard a painful cry.
It took me a moment to realize where I was. The cry didn't stop. I had an unpleasant feeling in my stomach. It sounded like someone was being tortured just outside my tent. Slowly and as quietly as I could, I moved toward the entrance of my tent my heart beating uncontrolably. The cry went on again. It was very close. I was terrified but I could not hear any other suspicious or odd sounds. Maybe someone needed my help, maybe I was in danger, maybe I was next. Carefully I poked my head out of the tent. To my surprise there was nothing there. I mean, my campsite looked just the way I left it before I turned in last night. There were no humans or animals around and everything looked normal. Suddenly, the cry went off once more and as I turned my head in the direction of the cry I finally spotted it. A small grey bird sitting on a branch. I breathed out a deep breath and realized that I'd been holding my breath the whole morning. I smiled at my own foolishness. This is what happens to people who go camping once in ten years. The little bird curiously looked at me, made one more horrifying cry and few away. I started my morning routine still amused. Little did I know about birds and that echoed later, when I had to gather all my knowledge about the wildlife stored in my brain, to get home alive. It all could have been avoided had I recognized the mockingbird.

Fluffy

As I stumbled in the dark, I hit something ...
it was big and soft. I couldn't remember where I was or what had happened in the near past. This odd feeling of being lost and yet very safe, was all I had. I touched the big thing once more and I could tell that it was something warm and fluffy, but I couldn't reach high enough to tell how tall it was. It had a pleasant smell too - like summer in the midst of June, a fragrance of earth after refreshing rain mixed with strawberries and lilies. It reminded me of my careless childhood and for some reason made me sad a bit. I couldn't really tell if the thing was a huge carpet or was it some kind of animal. But then again, I smiled foolishly at the thought, there can't be such animal, not so huge and fluffy. I'd know if  there were any since I'm the best zoologist in the country. I sometimes wonder how those silly thoughts still find their way to my adult mind. And just then it made a deafening, rumbling sound and, to my astonishment, moved! I could clearly feel moving where my palm was pressed against its fluffy fur. I froze.