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Expedition Contributions
Joined: 20 Jul 2005 Posts: 47
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Posted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 12:47 pm Post subject: Seattle 08 |
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Go to Room 4 |
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Miriam Kuroszczyk
Joined: 21 Mar 2006 Posts: 14
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 7:11 pm Post subject: |
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Seattle 8
Judgement Day
De Spirito Sancto
Domino! As mothers care
For their children, as shepards care
For their sheep, I do
Praise the Lord. Recall, recite, return His gracious light.
I do bear love within my soul. Deep’s
My faith, woven into Mater’s womb.
De Spirito Sancto Domino
Strong is my faith, planted into your soil. Soon
The buds will be in bloom. Soon
They will take Your love into the world –
Just as I have done.
I have sinned. God bless
Who have lived His way |
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chrisqui
Joined: 20 Mar 2006 Posts: 5 Location: Mainz, Germany
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Posted: Sat May 13, 2006 2:39 pm Post subject: Home / Seattle 8 and 17 |
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Home
The wind tickles the red scarf embedded in the wrinkled flesh of her throat. It is tied securely in a seaman’s knot, initially meant to keep ships harbour-bound in a rough sea. Her body is pressed tightly to the window pane of a some local shop. The OPEN flashes in irradiate colours and dies away, returning and retreating incessantly. This cold February morning leaves people preferring the murmuring comfort of heated cars. No one but her has dared to step out into the violent breeze of a clear morning. The little girl gazing at her from the blue pickup truck right in front of her pulls a face – grinning teeth eagerly seeking attention. The woman turns away, ignoring timid fists on glass. She embraces herself against the cold. Opening her arms up and closing them again to strengthen her body’s circulation. A low murmuring leaves her throat and a half-remembered melody escapes, allowing her mind to lose itself in memory while her body continues to wait for some yet unknown advent.
That one day when she opened up the French windows leading to the narrow garden path with the morning right there in front of her eyes left her speechless. She had never hoped for this sudden rebirth of happiness in life, hope had ceased with the years. But suddenly there he was – a new day had begun. The air vibrated in the heat of his arrival and she stretched herself in his warmth, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
The flag trembling in the waving wind, slaps harshly against the pole of its own standing, interrupting her reminiscence. She sighs and stares at her feet. The incessant movement of wriggling toes offers the sensation of movement and she begins to look around as if travelling the straight road like all the passer-bys who lack to notice her pathetic figure. She wears a long and heavy woollen coat erasing the harsh coldness and the unceasing wind. Yet she can feel a sudden breeze enveloping her body – a chill. She involuntarily shutters and continues to press her body further into the building, desiring to become one with its walls, resistant to the bitter draught.
Her loss left a void. Starring at the landscape couldn’t fill that gap or change the past. But it calmed the involuntary throbbing of his heart. And while he reflected the silent scene in front of him, he could think of her without thinking about a we that no longer was. She gave up without the utterance of a word, no note, no farewell, no anything. He didn’t even know where she had gone, why she had gone, when she had gone. The silence of the world around him reminded him of their last days together. Words suppressed – a golden clock ticking at the wall measured time, an old habit impossible to lay aside. There had been a happy day, a fearless day meant to last forever. But now he was entrapped in a world of sombre colours. He became aware of this greyness watching the violent colours of fiery flowers illuminated by the sun’s early rays. His sudden awareness of the external vitality found its reflection on his face. The petals' redness and his own greyness clashed with the natural tone of his skin. On the one hand a wish to pause in a never ceasing pain, on the other to step outside and embrace a silently calling world.
Of course life with him had not been easy. She had hated his black suits from the start yet he wore them day out, day in, never thinking about discarding them. He was still mourning the loss of a long gone love but she told herself that he only needed time, time she was willing to give. Yet he never opened his heart to her – armies had marched in and did not cease the siege in all those years. He had been her everything, her new day, her new morning. In the desert of the heart let the healing fountain start, in the prison of his days teach the free man how to embrace and then she had laughed to cover the pain she felt while reciting this final, distorted rhyme to him. But there had been no form of a healing liquid in their life together. She, a sea-captain’s sea-feverish daughter, had given up the screaming gulls and the breaking waves of northern shores to live with him inland. His sombre attire contrasted a life she had held dear for so long. She had eagerly waited for another day in which he would step outside with her and embrace the world as well as her in a singular deed to love. Yet he remained in known waters, besieged by grey walls. He had stopped to live in dialogue with the world after the breaking of his heart. Now again he was left alone to ponder his own shortcomings. But he had achieved a victory this time. His crooked heart could no more be broken. The pieces had been gathered. But not knowing himself he had put them back together in an awry calm, only allowing a small range of feelings. One day he had followed her outside, and had enclosed her with his arms, a beautiful morning, and thought about the other woman, the one he had loved.
She was still waiting when a gull passed her, screaming with all its might. A sudden laugh escaped her lips and an unexpected spark filled her eyes. She had returned home, and finally she could feel it too. She had waited for this sensation at the corner of McKinsey Road. The gull had erased painful memories of a near enough past but had awoken memories of a long gone time. She decided to see her father immediately and yearned the embrace he would offer her. Maybe a ship would leave the harbour soon and she could still sign on, already accomplished in the sea-faring art. In her head she slowly retraced every possible knot learned as a young girl on her grandfather’s lap. She still remembered them all, even after an absence of many years. But now she had returned, embracing the new day.
Last edited by chrisqui on Wed May 17, 2006 10:09 pm; edited 3 times in total |
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Buggix
Joined: 12 May 2006 Posts: 3
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Posted: Sun May 14, 2006 9:45 pm Post subject: Leaving the stage |
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Seattle 08
After tearing open the door the man enters the heated up room. His heart is pounding wildly. With his trembling hands he closes the door again and locks it. He takes a deep breath, then, coughing, he has to grasp for another one. The sweat on his forehead reflects the gloomy read light that enters the room through the window. He thinks of his wife. He loves her so much. Suddenly, black smoke breaks through the grounds outside of his house. He is watching the flashing fumes and raging reek coming out of the depths of earth, right out of the widening abyss on the horizon. Three black columns are darkening the sky. Read light egresses through the cracks that are rushing through the grounds. The grass, the bushes, the tress are catching fire, they are set ablaze and burn in a cataclysmic manner.
Where the cracks let out the hellish smokes, lava leaks from below. Leaving the abyss, it drags along the blackened, blazing remains of the place’s flora. The room is heating up and this terrorizing heat causes the window to crack. The gloomy dark red rules the whole place. The man is excited, his heart is dancing like a devil inside his chest. Looking outside, his pupils are wide open. With his shaking hands he tries to cling to the window frame in order to keep standing. But his hands immediately abhor from the broiling metal. He has done so many good things to her. He cared for her. He stroked and caressed her, warmed her body. Kissed her a thousand times. Glancing down his body, he sees bunches of his hair covering his black shirt.
He hears not only the cracking of the house’s other windows but also the bursting of its groundwork. As the lava has reached its walls, fragments of stone are being quarried out by the hot fluid’s force. The roof collapses, the walls are breaking away. This gives him a panoramic, olympic view of this apocalyptic situation. His heart is still pounding, but although the heat increases, he is not sweating anymore. She always loved flowers. He brought her some, the most beautiful ones he could find. He cared for her and for the flowers, stroking her arm and watering the flowers. He is coughing, having a hard time to inhale the toxicated and simmering air.
More and more parts of the house break away. The man calms down, his hands are not trembling anymore. There’s no more sweat on his skin which is covered with red spots. He misses his wife so much. She has to understand. He tried to undo it. But he couldn’t. He tried to make the best of it. He cared for her, stroked her body over and over, and he always brought fresh flowers. Parts of his skin start to peel off, loosening, then being taken away by the hot winds, being vaporised in midair.
Now, only scattered rocks are left of where his house used to stand. In between the lava flows. He is standing up straight on one of those rocks. His heartbeat has decreased and almost stopped. His facial muscles are relaxed. But he is alone. Because his wife is no more. Because she is dead. She lost her life. Explosions throw rocks and lava through the air. The man is hit by one of these broadsides, losing his left arm and thus also being set ablaze.
The last pieces of the rock are breaking away. The man is now on his knees. His heartbeat has stopped. He is calm. His pupils are narrowing. He looks at his right hand and opens in. In his palm there are her and his wedding ring. In a few moments, they will melt together again. But before that can happen, he has to face his final judgement. He has to face the ultimate punishment. He has to face the fact that he can never bring her back to life. He has to face the truth that after killing his most beloved wife, he can only leave the stage, let the final curtain fall and await his just punishment. Await what he deserves. There can be no life after killing the one one loves most. His skin is burning. Limbs are falling apart, his body collapses. He disintegrates. What is left of him is being sucked in by the flows of the lava. He vanishes, his right hand clasping around the two golden rings.
Hours later, the lava has stopped flowing. Winds cool down the masses. The lava turns into stone and disintegrates. The shattered pieces of rubble turn into soil. In the place where the man has faced his final judgement, two fresh green scions break through the hardened surface. Gently shaken by the winds, their tops touch each other once in a while only to be separated again.
Matthias Vergers, Mainz, 14.05.2006 |
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Fernsprechteilnehmer
Joined: 05 Apr 2006 Posts: 7
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Posted: Mon May 15, 2006 12:48 am Post subject: |
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Wishing Well
Yonder there’s a wishing well
under the red sky, I was told
It will make your dreams come true
Just have a bath
And you’ll be relieved
From pain and sorrow and all that
But you have to be careful
If you drink from the wishing well
You will puke pennies
Your farts will be brassy
Eat some beans
And you can play a marching tune |
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