Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
A Perfect World
Friday, March 27, 2009
When She Smiles
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Water
I Don't Write
Saturday, March 7, 2009
The Bus That Went Nowhere
- I was thinking - he said, with his silent tone, the same tone that foretold a lengthy conversation.
- When you think, kingdoms fall - she said, with a smile unlike any other on the planet.
The bus was cruising down the streets, never repeating the same path twice.
- You displaced my definition of happiness - he said after the long pause in which he stared into the two pupils that almost drank him dry.
- It was on purpose - she said with her sweetly distorted voice.
He grabbed her hand. The bus was still going somewhere.
- Don't ever get mad at me for the way that I love you. You know that I want you to be mine and only mine. You know that nothing tastes as it use to? Everything is sweetened by the thoughts of you...
- She squeezed his hand harder. The bus was now going nowhere. It didn't exist.
Friday, February 20, 2009
For you
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The night
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Wish
Saturday, October 18, 2008
When she goes away
Monday, October 6, 2008
Contemplations
Monday, September 22, 2008
Falcon
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Shadows
Thursday, September 18, 2008
The House On The Hill
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
There
Never
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Betrayal by Umbrellas
Monday, September 15, 2008
I write
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Love & Walnuts
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
A part of you
Monday, August 18, 2008
Chess
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Ode
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
A Midnight Talk
Friday, November 9, 2007
The Storyteller
There’s nothing worse that can happen to a storyteller, than to use up all his stories. That time, when he faces that empty new sheet of paper and says to him self “there’s nothing more”! At that exact time, the storyteller won’t give up that easy. He would amount to some desperate measures. No doubt, he would try and tell his own life story. What he doesn’t know is that during all that time he was telling other people’s stories, he didn’t write his own. There is nothing to tell when you look back at his life. He is nothing more than a mere storyteller.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
The shortest short story ever writen
Thursday, November 1, 2007
The kid
– That kid must have an amazing sex life – they would say. And they were right. You should hear the stories he was telling everyone. He was talking about things people haven’t even seen on TV, sometimes things of which most of us haven’t even heard of!! People were talking, but, I always knew he was a nut-job. I knew I was looking at a lonely soul, a child trapped in a grown-man’s body with an imagination so vivid, that even Stephen King could envy him.
One night, we sneaked into his back yard and took a peak at the window that was illuminated. We saw him, sitting in his chair in front of the TV, watching Star Trek or SG-1 and masturbating. We didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My “companions” decided it was best to make fun of the poor guy, so they started banging on the window, making strange noises and taking pictures with their phone-cameras.