Story #173

Invånarna på snöslottet på Botbygårdsvägen 1 var samlade i den stora salen. Bekvämt satt de lutade mot slottets väggar, benen noga ihopdragna, så de inte skulle nudda det levande ljuset som lyste klart i mitten av slottssalen. Det hade snöat ända från den dagen man fick börja öppna luckor i julkalendern som hängde på köksväggen där hemma. Farbror Tilles, gårdskarlen, hade flera gånger fått beställa en traktor, som samlade all snö från gården till en underbar, enorm hög vid gungorna.

Slottsfruarna hade slitit hårt, grävt tunnlar som ingång till en stor sal, och ett litet kök, för det hade man väl även på slottet. Presidenten hade i alla fall ett kök, där det lagades fin mat. Det hade slottsfruarna sett på tv, då det årliga nationaldagsfirandet på Presidentens slott visades. Det som var roligast på nationaldagen var, att då bakades det pepparkakor. Efter att papporna hade sjungit nationalsången när farbror Tilles hissade flaggan där ute på gården, var det dags att kavla och grädda hundratals pepparkakor.  De skulle ju räcka ända fram till jul, och fem om dagen fick bagarna äta, varje dag .

Nu satt slottsfruarna och tittade tankfullt på det levande ljuset. Dagens pepparkakor hade blivit utsmugglade, och spred en underbar doft av kryddpeppar, nejlika, ingefära och kanel i slottssalen. I morgon skulle det vara julafton. Papporna bar in julgranar, åkte runt och delade ut paket till släkt och vänner, medan mammorna hade skinkan i ugnen, letade fram julgranspynt och prasslade med julklappspapper. Slottsfruarna var beordrade av sin mamma att stanna ute, fast det redan var mörkt. De hade fått lite överblivet granris att dekorera slottet med, och största slottsfrun hade till och med hittat en glittrande stjärna, bara lite trasig, att hänga på riset.

Största slottsfrun suckade:

– Det blir nog inga julklappar imorgon.

– För att vi har tänt levande ljus utan en vuxen i närheten? frågade minsta slottsfrun och dåligt samvete lyste ur hennes ögon.

– Eller för att vi har grävt snötunnel med tak, fast mamma har sagt att det är farligt, konstaterade mellersta slottsfrun skuldmedvetet.

– Ja, och så hade vi sönder pulkan, sa största slottsfrun och skämdes, men fortsatte sedan lite harmset:

– Vi åkte ju bara lite på den grusade gångbanan, det borde pulkorna tåla! Fast det är klart, vi åkte även ner från den stora stenen för att flyga lite.

– När vi krockade med stubben i skogen, satt vi ju alla i pulkan, och det knakade jättemycket, mindes mellersta slottsfrun, och då kom minsta slottsfrun på hur pulkan lät när den blev använd som en bro över Farliga Diket…

Julaftonen var årets längsta dag. Slottsfruarna hann klä granen, smyga på en vilsen tomte som passerade snöslottet, bada julbastu med bastukvasten som hade legat i frysen sedan midsommar, och klä på sig  sina röda sammetsklänningar och vita strumpbyxor, som korvade sig vid knäna. De vuxna åt i all evighet, även kaffe skulle de ha innan det var dags för Tomten. En lättnadens suck slapp ur slottsfruarna när Tomten kom, och hade faktiskt en enorm säck med sig. Det skulle bli julklappar ändå! Var och en av slottsfruarna fick en mössa, vantar, och spännande böcker. Den bästa julklappen var dock gemensam för alla tre: en ny pulka! Och tänk, den förståndiga tomten hade ordnat så, att pulkan var försedd med metallförstärkta medar. Slottsfruarna var redo för nya äventyr.

Story #172

Efter en lång dag på jobbet med sen hemkomst såg jag fram emot en god natts sömn. Fem minuter efter att jag lagt mig tillrätta i sängen uppdagas det att min dotter har andra planer. Hon kryper upp till mig och har bestämt sig för att denna natt är ett utmärkt tillfälle att illustrera hur en centrifug fungerar. Jag får anta att jag framstod som väldigt trög och att hon var noga med att försäkra sig om att hennes budskap framgick, det var ingen snabbkurs om jag ska utrycka mig subtilt.

Tillslut gick solen upp, ok det var att överdriva i detta gråa decemberrusk, jag håller mig till att klockan var sju. Nu stod jag inför ett val: antingen gråter jag ut och söker empati eller så sveper jag kanna med  kaffe och river av ett gympass. Jag kände mig minst sagt ambivalent inför uppgiften men efter en blick i spegeln beslöt jag mig för att välja alternativ två. Nu ligger jag här i soffan, lätt illamående och med en obskyr känsla i hela kroppen och undrar ifall det inte hade varit bättre att försöka samla lite martyrpoäng istället…

Story #171

Från gården på Botbygårdsvägen 1 ledde det en brant backe ner till soptunnorna. Det var vår i luften, men fortfarande vinter, med en massa snö, på marken. En märklig del av Vinter- OS pågick för fullt i Soptunnebacken. Först hade deltagarna trampat ner all snö på backen till en hård yta. Därefter användes det byxbakar till att polera ytan glansig och fin. När den största poleraren hade fått hål på byxorna togs ett beslut att fortsätta arbetet med vantarna. Efter idogt polerande blev backen klar för de Olympiska Spelen.

Störtloppet med inslag av isdans kunde börja. Den största isdanserskan stod och kanade med sina vinterskor halva backen ner, och hann till och med göra en piruett, innan hon ramlade. Den mellersta isdanserskan tog sats och störtade nerför backen. Hon stod halva vägen, gjorde en volt och kanade liggandes ner resten av den hala banan. Den minsta isdanserskan satsade på störtlopp på alla fyra. I faslig fart kanade hon ner, och blev sedan liggande still på mage i slutet av backen.

Alla deltagare på de Olympiska Spelen rusade ner. Den största isdanserskan frågade oroligt:

– Hur gick det, lever du?

– Så klart jag gör! Den minsta isdanserskan vände sig på rygg, skrattade, och sa:

– Det var ju en KONSTPAUS. Fattar ni väl.

I det samma kom tant Maja runt hörnet uppe på gården. Städrocken flaxade runt de strumpbyxeklädda benen när tant Maja trippade fram i sina tofflor. Sedan satte hon fart. Med en soppåse i vardera handen kanade hon nerför OS-banan, tappade en toffel halvvägs, fortsatte att kana stående på ett ben, och omfamnade hårt en tillmötesgående soptunna i slutet av banan, medan soporna flög glatt åt alla håll!

– Hon vann, helt klart, muttrade den största isdanserskan snopet.

Samma kväll samlades papporna på Botbygårdsvägen 1 med sina spadar på gården. OS-tävlanden fick klä sig varmt och gå ut, fast det var mörkt och minusgrader och dessutom egentligen läggdags. Papporna hade jobbat hårt, och fått hjälp av farbror Tilles, gårdskarlen, med vattenslangen. En lång isbana med höga kanter slingrade sig från gården ut till fälten där mammorna odlade blommor och grönsaker på sommaren. Papporna puttade på de barnfyllda pulkorna så de åkte i en hiskelig fart ner till mammorna, som bjöd på varm saft, snöt små näsor och övervakade åkandet, så ingen skulle bränna sig på facklorna, som kantade hela den långa, härliga isbanan. Det var de bästa Olympiska Spelen någonsin!

Story #170

The man, standing on the porch of his desolated house, stirs into to warm sunset with red eyes. He rolls down his sleeve and grabs the soft pack of Lucky Strikes, knocks the pack to his knee to loosen a smoke, sucks it in his mouth and blaze it. He is now an unleashed beast ready to hunt down his prey, the two men in checkered suits who murdered his wife and his two daughters. With a double-barreled sawed-off shotgun, he hops on his Harley and drives towards a mad future.

Story #169 – Mystery on Maple Lane – Chapter three: What lurks inside

So the children tiptoed over to the back door, where they dared to turn the knob. The house released a loud creeeaaak.

At least inside, Lily and Sam’s parents would be around to protect them.

Besides, there was no girl in a nightgown, nor were there any other strange things lurking upstairs.

Right?

Their mother, the kids imagined, would be busy emptying boxes and making their new house feel like home.

And their father was surely in the kitchen, preparing a delicious welcome supper.

But when Lily and Sam stepped inside the old wooden house, there was neither a person nor a box in sight.

“Mom!” called Sam.

“Dad!” cried Lily.

It was as though the Lynch family had never even moved into the old house at the end of Maple Lane.

Where could Sam and Lily’s parents possibly be?

There was no way they were outside. It had gotten dark very quickly, and a heavy fog lingered about the house.

Sam stepped into the kitchen and uttered a sharp cry.

“What is it?” asked Lily, running over to her brother.

“It smells like there’s a cake baking in here,” he whimpered, his lower lip trembling.

Lily took a deep breath in and detected chocolate. In the otherwise cool house, a gust of warm air wafted from the oven.

“The girl in the nightgown!” she shrieked. “She must have made it!”

Sam met his sister’s gaze, his eyes as wide as the full moon outside.

“What if she’s got Mom and Dad?”

The Lynch kids didn’t know what to do.

They weren’t allowed outside after sundown without adult supervision.

And besides, it wasn’t safe out there. As Mrs. Lynch had said, there were no neighbors around for miles and miles.

So Sam and Lily had no choice but to stay in the house and hope for their parents’ safe return.

But before they could solve the mystery, footsteps sounded on the second floor. Lily and Sam clutched each other tight.

The ghosts―they were coming!

Then came the voices, which the children heard through the ventilation.

“I’m so hungry,” moaned one of the spirits from upstairs.

But what happened next changed everything.

“The cake will be ready soon,” announced their mother’s voice through the ventilator.

“And the kids will be home in any minute,” declared their father.

Confused, the Lynch kids bolted upstairs. They had to make sure their parents were okay. Lily and Sam held their breath as they prepared to face the ghost girl in the nightgown.

“Surprise!”

The lights flickered on, and Mr. and Mrs. Lynch stood smiling, surrounded by the kids’ aunts and uncles and cousins.

Never in their lives had Sam and Lily felt so relieved.

“It’s a housewarming party,” explained Mr. Lynch, giving each of his children a squeeze on the shoulder.

“We wanted to surprise you,” added the kids’ mother. “We invited the whole family.”

And there, dressed in a white nightgown, was their little cousin Jenna.

“We hid upstairs while you were playing outside,” she said.

“Now who’s ready for cake?” asked Mrs. Lynch.

“Me!”

“I am!”

So the Lynches, along with all their aunts and uncles and cousins, made their way downstairs.

After it cooled, Mr. Lynch frosted and sliced the chocolate cake. Then he served it to his family.

That was when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” said Mrs. Lynch. “I wonder who that could possibly be.”

Outside stood a scarecrow with black button eyes.

Story #168 – Mystery on Maple Lane – Chapter two: Backyard mysteries

“I miss our apartment in the city,” said Sam, as he and Lily walked out into the crisp autumn air. Leaves of all colors fluttered to the ground from the trees.

Lily gasped.

“Look!” she cried, pointing to a second-story window. Lily grabbed her brother’s hand and squeezed it tight.

“What is it?” asked Sam.

Lily pointed. Through the glass, the Lynch kids saw the pale face of a young girl. She was dressed in an old nightgown.

Who could it possibly be?

But within a few seconds, through the falling leaves, the girl had vanished.

“Maybe we imagined it,” muttered Sam.

Lily stayed silent.

How could she and her brother both have imagined the same thing?

“Let’s get out of here,” said Lily, who still clutched her twin brother’s hand. She tugged him along the path that led into the woods.

There the kids began contemplating their Halloween costumes, since October 31st was only three weeks away.

“I want to be a vampire this year,” announced Sam. “Either that or a ghost.”

Lily frowned at her brother.

“Those are too scary,” she said. “I think I’ll be a cat.”

A few minutes later, the Lynch kids came to a clearing in the woods. Lily was admiring the open field when she jumped in shock.

“Scaredy-cat,” taunted Sam. “It’s just a scarecrow. It’s not real.”

Or was it?

There was a wicked gleam in the scarecrow’s eyes. He wore a straw hat atop his potato sack face.

“I guess you’re right,” whispered Lily. To distract herself from the scarecrow, she scooped an orange maple leaf from the ground and traced it with her pinky finger.

“Come on,” called Sam, beckoning to his sister.

He wanted to keep moving. The truth is that Sam thought he’d seen the just-a-scarecrow blink its black button eyes.

So the Lynch twins left the clearing and made their way back into the forest. The twigs above their heads reached down like bony fingers.

Once Sam and Lily came across the graveyard, right in the middle of the woods, all it took was a single look to get them running in the opposite direction.

They bolted down the path toward the clearing.

And then the Lynch twins rushed past the scarecrow back into the forest.

Sam and Lily darted through the trees and finally, panting, they found themselves in their new backyard.

Lily dared to examine the second-story window.

Sam followed his sister’s gaze. He saw a strange figure hovering by glass. It certainly didn’t look like either of his parents!

Like the girl in the nightgown, the strange figure disappeared after a few moments.

“We can’t go in there,” Lily warned her brother.

Sam shook his head.

“Well, we can’t stay out here, either.”

Story #167 – Mystery on Maple Lane – Chapter one: The old wooden house

When the car pulled into the driveway, Lily didn’t like the look of her family’s new home.

“It’s falling apart,” she said of the house on Maple Lane.

“And where are our neighbors?” chimed in her brother Sam.

It was true. Darkness surrounded the house, and the lawn hadn’t been mowed in months. Plus some of the windows were covered in a thick layer of dust.

“The property is six acres,” explained their father, Mr. Lynch. “It’s a big lot.”

Mrs. Lynch turned to her children.

“There are no people for miles and miles,” she added.

But the Lynch kids would soon find out the truth.

They weren’t alone in their new house.

Once the movers had carried all the boxes inside, the Lynch parents got to work.

“Daddy’s going to the store to pick up ingredients for dinner,” said Mrs. Lynch, “and I’m going to start unpacking.”

“Can I help?” asked Lily. She hugged her mother around the knees.

A strange feeling was brewing in her stomach, and she didn’t want to be alone.

Something wasn’t right with the old wooden house. Lily just knew it.

“That’s okay, Sweetie,” replied Mrs. Lynch. She unpeeled her daughter’s arms from around her legs and tore open a box labeled Kitchen Items. Then she started digging through stacks of pots and pans, plates, and handfuls of silverware.

Mrs. Lynch glanced at her children. Sam was sitting in an armchair, playing games on his mother’s iPhone. Lily stood beside him, looking on.

“Why don’t you two run along outside and explore?” she suggested. “There’s a fantastic forest right in the backyard.”

Sam flicked his thumbs against the touchscreen phone. He hadn’t heard a word.

“Samuel!” called Mrs. Lynch. “Please go outside with your sister. Leave that technology behind and go enjoy nature. The fresh air will do you good.”

The knot of dread tightened in Lily’s gut.

“Mom,” she began, fixing her gaze on the damp wooden floor. “Why are there footprints in the house if we just moved in?”

Then she examined her brother.

“And how come someone left their old furniture in here?”

“The old owners weren’t able to take everything with them,” explained Mrs. Lynch. “And as for the footprints, they’re probably from your father’s muddy shoes. Now go on and play outside.”

But if the old owners had wanted to leave couches and tables and chairs, then why were they in such bad shape? On the dining room table, chunks of wood had begun to rot, and Lily noticed that stuffing was spilling from one of the sofas like a dog foaming at the mouth.

To be continued …

Story #166

It was a rainy monday morning.

“You! I dreamed of you”, she said. I can remember I just smiled back at her, we both knew how wrong it was, but I could tell by the way she looked at me it was just right enough to be a pleasant dream.

I remember it all ’cause I often think about that morning, about how our ‘once upon a time’ began.

Story #165

I’m so proud to call him mine, for he is endlessly beautiful, deep and pure. Having found the key to my heart I gifted him this present. As if it is the most important thing in the world I elevate this ceremony into the realm of spirituality. I roam my spirit and look for memories of love – coming back from this reflecting I weave all fragments into a new whole, into a story I live and breathe life into.

I call him my baby because I’ll try to love him unconditionally, like a mom loves and naturally nourishes her offspring; in the same way I want to tend to his needs, want to fulfill his wishes. His wish is for him to know love, and I show him what it feels like to be loved by a certain special person – he in turn teaches me the joy of giving myself over to another. To retreat from this battlefield and to come home to this safe and secure embrace we offer each other – in this lies fulfillment. I was happy, but he makes me feel euphoria I had forgotten about a long time ago. It completes me.

As we are all screaming for and dreaming about something I feel I am on to something. We think we long to feel loved, however, what we really feel is the need to love. We wish for to indulge ourselves in the pleasure if embracing all there is to embrace about another, to get to know every nook and cranny of their reflective and stunning psyche. Frankly, his psyche stunned me, and now all I can do is watch in awe as our story unfolds itself. It may be long, it may be short, but one thing is for sure: it will stay with me forever, having changed me I shall never forget this revelation.

If the one exists… He is probably it. As close as I’ll ever come to finding the one; having found him I feel I can finally release all this love I have been waiting to let go of, have been wanting to share. And him accepting these feelings of true affection is like a unique gift to me, inspiring me beyond imagination, touching me and lifting me up into an imaginairy realm for us both to exist in – our world is to be created; for love shall procreate, if not in material sense then always in spiritual sense – to be a lover is to embrace what is. For how can I expect to be loved without being a lover?

I was listening to this particular song before and suddenly I felt like I was about to cry. I was feeling something I hadn’t felt in a long time, and it made me remember everything about that feeling. I have been severely ill and was deemed lost. I had to take these numbing pills. I was so depressed that I barely felt anything anymore. There was just this constant death wish. Now, there is a completely different wish, I seem to have crossed to the other side so to speak.. There is a wish to love and to nourish instead of to destroy. It makes me feel complete, knowing there is a future for me – a future that can be brighter than I ever thought it would be. So I expose my naked body – I accept it, knowing it is accepted by him whom I love.

Story #164

Beatrice finally got her big girl bed. She was excited but scared. Beatrice missed the comfort of her crib and didn’t want to spend the night sleeping in the open bed. She tried. She cried. And then her mom and dad made her a deal. “If you sleep in your new bed for five straight nights we will buy you that life-size Cookie Monster you’ve had your eye on,” tbey told her. And Beatrice slept in her new bed for five straight nights. And on the sixth night she shared her bed with Cookie Monster.