Blood

This story is not appropriate for children and sensitive people.

The light in the bathroom was dim, only two candles placed on the shelf lighting it. Their flames were dancing to their own music in their own world; the world that we can’t hear or see but it must be magical.

There was a sound of music coming for another room, slow jazz. Perhaps the flames could hear it too and they danced to the sound of saxophone, trumpet and piano.

There were no other sounds in the apartment and no other light.

A woman with pale skin was lying in a bath full of water. Her look was focused, not on the white wall in front of her, it seemed as she could see beyond it and at the same time it seemed she couldn’t see anything at all. As she slowly raised her right hand something small and silver glistened in the flare of candles. She kept glaring in front of her and raised the other hand. She cut her wrist with one swift and determined move and only then her eyes moved. She looked how the water slowly turned red as the blood ran out of her artery and put the hand back down. Then she made another deep cut, and another, only this time she cut both her thighs.

She kept cutting her arm, legs and belly until she couldn’t lift her hand anymore. For a little while longer she stared at the water, red and cold, and then she closed her eyes.

Last week I wanted to donate my blood for the first time, but I found out that I couldn’t be a blood donor due to my chronic illness. I’ve always admired my mom for being a donor and I’ve always wanted to be one myself, but sadly I’m not going to be. The story was inspired by this experience, perhaps in a strange and morbid way but I do hope that it will encourage someone out there to save a life or two. My intention is not to offend or hurt anyone and I apologise if I did.

A birthday wish

He slowly parked his new car in the driveway; slowly because he didn’t want to make noise which would draw his wife’s attention; this was the day of his life and he didn’t want her to ruin it. He stepped out of the car and looked at it with both happiness and concern in his eyes.


It was his 58^th birthday and he bought himself the only thing he ever really  wanted – a red Shelby Mustang ’65 with two white stripes.


He remembered the day when he first saw it. Everything seemed grey to him in those days; he was 12 years old and he was just struck by puberty. Him and his mom were on the way to the grocery store; she always forced him to go with her wherever she went. They were walking toward the store when he saw it parked in front of a bakery. He stopped and looked at it with his big brown eyes; it was the most beautiful car he had ever seen… it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. His mom started yelling at him but he didn’t hear her, his senses weren’t able to embrace anything else.


From that day forward he dreamed about this car all the time, day and night. He never really wanted anything else but the circumstances weren’t in his favour. He met his wife in high school and they had their first baby right after graduation. She thought Mustang wasn’t an appropriate for a young father so he didn’t buy it. A couple of years later they had another son and his wife used the same argument again. When children grew up they wanted to go to college, which was expensive, and his wife always said that they couldn’t waste money on such foolish nonsense.


She always had an excuse why he couldn’t buy the only thing he ever wanted. But this time he didn’t ask her and he didn't say anything either. He went to the car shop and fulfilled his dreams.

Photo taken from here.

The bleach

Mia pushed the shopping cart in front of her as she walked past the sloppily stacked items on the shelves. The cart was already full of groceries for the coming week. Meat, vegetables, fruit and dairy products were neatly placed in the cart, separately organised. She stopped in front of the shelf with bleaches and started reading the labels. This was always her last stop in the store, her favourite one. She spent twenty minutes comparing the products and in the end she decided for the one she had always bought. She was satisfied with herself; knowing that she uses the best cleaning products calmed her.

Mia’s house was always spotless and she worked very hard to keep it that way. With two kids and a husband who doesn’t really care if the house is clean that’s a hard task. But nevertheless their house was always clean, Mia made sure of that.

When she got home kids were playing outside and Carl was mowing the lawn. Mia took the groceries to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She turned the radio on and sang while putting away the things she had brought from the store.

Everything had its place in her kitchen and she hated how Carl never put milk in its place inside the refrigerator. She never understood how some people can’t seem to remember where things should be.   

When Mia was done she didn’t sit down and drink her tea. Instead she drank it while cooking dinner.

After dinner Carl went to the living room and kids went upstairs to their room. Mia remained alone in the kitchen. She started cleaning the mess her loved ones made; she picked up the dinner plates and glasses and put them into the dishwasher, stored the leftovers inside the refrigerator and then she put on her yellow rubber gloves and took the bleach from the cabinet under the sink. She loved cleaning; cleaning was the only thing that she could control. Carl was always doing whatever he wanted, the days when he tried to please her and when he did something she liked were long gone. And the kids were too big to be told what to do, they only did what they wanted to.  Cleaning was the only thing she had left.

A place called home

Karen sat on her bike and looked back. There were about two dozen people on the marketplace and she knew most of them. They were all very nice and kind people and over the past two years she started to feel like she’s one of them. She met most of them on that exact spot where they spent their Saturday mornings buying ingredients for lunch and drinking coffee in a café next to the market place. They were all typical Italians, kind, cheerful and loud. She smiled and waved to the butcher. 

Ciao bella, see you tomorrow, I have meat for you prepared in morning he yelled in his broken English with an Italian accent. She smiled and nodded.  

Karen always felt like a foreigner anywhere she came. Her dad was an officer in the military and they moved a lot when she was a child. She knew he loved her with all his heart but they weren’t a real family. She didn’t fit in at home. Her mum died when Karen was seven years old and after her death dad was never the same. He missed her mum very much and a part of him died with her. He was absent even when he was at home.

He once asked her if she didn’t want to move anymore but she told him that she didn’t mind it. She was searching for her home, a place where she belonged. She never found a place like this as a child. She felt welcome everywhere they lived, she easily found friends in every town, but she never found what she could call home. 

She always thought that she would discover her true self in college but that wasn’t the case. She studied sociology at The university of Texas but soon after she moved she realised that she made the wrong decision and she decided she wanted to travel. Travelling was the only constant thing in her life.

For the next three years she travelled all over the world; she spent some time in Australia and New Zealand and then backpacked in China, Japan, India and Thailand. Then she discovered her passion for old European cities.

She was exploring small villages and big cities in Europe for over a year when she met Fabio in Milan. Karen was working as a model and her agency had a party in a night club Fabio worked with. She noticed him the moment he walked in the room because he wasn’t a typical Italian. She liked his short curly light brown hair and blue eyes but what she liked even more was his smile. A smile that made her feel special.

They talked all evening and spent the night together. She thought she would never see him again when she woke up the next morning in the empty bed in her hotel room. But she was wrong; he came back soon and invited her to go to Sicily with him, because he lived there. 

I’m in love he said and gave her a dark red rose. 

Karen was in love too so she went with him and never left Sicily again. She felt she finally found her home. She felt like she belonged there. 

Photo taken from here.

100 words: Dew

She woke up early and went to the kitchen, put the kettle on for the coffee and looked out of the window. She had one of her favourite scenes in front of her eyes. Morning dew on a field behind the house. 

She smiled and remembered how she spent every summer at her grandparents farm as a child. She loved waking up early and walking barefoot through the high wet grass around the house and watching the sun rise.

She took the kettle off the stove and ran out barefoot. The grass was soft and wet just as she remembered.

 

Photo taken from here.

Ferris wheel

Why don’t you ever tell the kids that they can’t do something? Or that they can’t have something? You always let them do and have everything. You’re so easy on them and I’m always the bad guy here. I’m sick of it! she yelled. She didn’t wait for the answer she just turned around and went to the bedroom slamming the door.

Brandon stayed in the kitchen and sat down. He knew that sometimes he should say no to their children but he couldn’t. He wanted them to be happy. He wanted his kids to have what he didn’t have – a sweet innocent childhood. He didn’t want them to worry about anything.

His dad died when he was six and he hardly remembered him. One of the rare memories he had of his dad was him coming home from work one day. He came through the door, looking tired and angry. He was dressed in a black suit, a white shirt and a black tie. The suit was a bit wrinkled on his back from him sitting all day. Dad took it off and carefully hung it on the coat hanger. He had yellow stains on his shirt, under his armpits.

He sat down at the kitchen table and put his briefcase on the table and opened it. The briefcase was always full of papers in dark brown folders. Brandon knew those papers were important and he always wanted to read them but his dad wouldn’t even allow him to touch them.

Can we play cowboys and Indians? Brandon asked.

Don’t you see I’m busy? I’m trying to work here, go away I don’t have time to fool around  dad answered not even looking at him.

His dad was a serious man, an important lawyer in a big law firm. He always went to work early in the morning and came home late in the evening.

Once there was a circus in town and his mum convinced dad to take Brandon and his brother . He remembered how excited he was. He wanted to take a ride on the small ferris wheel because he knew he wasn’t old enough for the big one. He secretly dreamt about the ride for weeks and when they were finally there he asked his parents if he could go.

No said his dad sharply.

Why not, I’m big enough for the little one Brandon asked, still hoping his dad would say yes.

It’s expensive. And I said no!

Brandon knew he shouldn’t make his dad angry if he ever wanted to see the circus again.

Soon after that his dad died. Brandon promised himself that he would allow his kids to take as many rides on a ferris wheel as they wanted.

Photo taken from here.