Some friends are otherworldly creatures and these are their stories.
A collection of 10 stories wrote for 10 humans, each one to read in one sitting, depending on the available time, from 44 seconds to 22 minutes and 8 seconds, while waiting for the bus, waiting in line, needing to get lost for a while, or just escaping to another life.
You wonder what kind of friend deserves a story? These do!
Targeted Age Group:: 14-100
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I wrote these stories with a person in mind, each important to me as a human, as a writer, as a friend. Each person has taught me a valuable lesson, a beautiful one, or even a hard one, for each, I am thankful.
I wanted to have a collection of shorts, available for reading in one sitting. I put the time required from the readers' day, hoping it would be easier to arrange their reading time accordingly.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I wrote these stories with a person in mind, each important to me as a
human, as a writer, as a friend. Each person has taught me a valuable
lesson, a beautiful one, or even a hard one, for each, I am thankful.
4 REINE – A CHRISTMAS STORY M&S’s Story (Reading Time: 22 minutes, 8 seconds) She could cry. That was for sure. Perhaps there were few things clear to her at that point, but she was certain she could cry. To say it was an inconvenience, was a joke. To say it wasn’t planned, was an understatement. With one swift move she sits on the driftwood bench on the shores, looking at the damned rainbow touching the hill, right above the village. Reine, Population 300. 300 and one that day, if things were to be precise. A crack in the sky, and a ray of winter sun spills over, bringing light over the mountaintop and over the sea in front of her. There she is, at the end of the world, and at the end of her wits, being spoiled by Mother Nature, making the urge to spill salty tears even more imminent. A burst of laughter escapes her mouth, and puts both her palms on the trembling lips, smothering that insane sound. The air is salty, and the wind carries the fishy smell up to her hilltop. At the foot of that hill lays the village. Red and white huts, gray-blue sea, late autumn at the bottom, winter on the mountain top. Despite being almost Christmas time, winter has not yet settled down that year. Mixed seasons. Mixed emotions. Inside and outside. Early morning hours bring her peace usually, that and a mug of green tea, but this morning… This morning is not magical as the others. Even if it is the day before Christmas. She feels the pain too raw and too deep; it frightens her and gives her chills. Clouds roll in and out of the gulf, changing the light every second. She takes her camera out and snaps a picture. One fleeting moment captured on film. All her current emotions will be trapped on paper later on. The image below her feet is even more reliable than a self-portrait. It captures her true self and her soul. Poetic justice. Tormented, as she feels that day and, for whatever reason, it is not like it was the first time in her life, either, sighs. She has promised, however, that will see her dreams come true, after putting herself in that cage, being trapped and immovable for all those years when she did not know any better. Taking another look at her surroundings, she pulls the beanie to cover her ears and tries to warm her frozen hands. To no avail. Here, above the Arctic Circle, in the island of Moskenesøya, in the Lofoten archipelago, population 300, the cold is bitter and as deep as their nights. With only 4.5 hours of daylight ahead of her, she planned the day with utmost care. Breakfast before dawn, hiking Reinebringen to see the whole chain of islands, and from there, above it all, letting go of her past and immerse herself in the terrifying unknown. That was all she planned. After years and years of having her life planned in detail, in one of her three planners, she is now lost at sea. She is aware of the risks of hiking the Reinebringen in December, but; she took extra precautions, hired a local guide, and prepared herself mentally for the climb. It is not just a place; she knows that. It is the catalyst for her downfall and the end of her previous life. One image of Reine in winter woke her up and made her crave adventure and travel and see the world she’d been living in for twenty years without seeing anything than her own small town. That one image brought up all her frustration and uncertainties, her indecision and unwillingness to settle down. What settle down, she thinks. All her life she was settled down. Unmovable. A tree with roots so deep, even the summer storms would not shake. She felt a shiver down her spine, tingling her nerves when she thought about it. Another lifetime ago in spirit, shy of a week in human life. Since then she has travelled a bit, backpack on and hiking boots, making her way closer and closer to the village in the picture. She still has the picture. She travelled with it. Now crumpled and stained, as she had felt. When she’ll be up there, she will take her own picture to replace this printed one. She will have the picture taken by her eyes and stored deep down in her bones, never to be trampled on or ruined. A car stops nearby and the unruly middle-aged man she talked to yesterday gets out. He takes another look at her, as if to check if her obstinance to hike is still there. Taking a deep breath, she gets up and goes to meet him, to put his worries to sleep. She cannot see herself try that on her own. “Mornin’, miss. Fine day for a climb, eh?” She nods, squinting at the sun.
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