Dålig på att blogga jag vet... Har mina andledningar

Men i alla fall jobbar just nu på att försöka återksapa lite utav min artistiska förmåga på skrivande sidan, för nu var det väldigt länge sen jag skrev något mer än några rader (borträknat bloggen då självklart) så läser lite av de gamla noveller jag skrivit och i försök till inspiration tänkte jag dela med mig utav en som jag skrev på engelskan i nian. Så om engleskan i den inte är perfekt håll i tanke att det var ungefär 4 år sedan om inte mer som jag skrev den. 

The Claws

From the empty space of nothing, it comes. Faster then a train and so much more dangerous. In the depths of darkness only the eyes are visible and under the gigantic pawns, hears the sound of sunburned grass crushing under its feat. There’s no point in running, this savage beast could out run you in a step. A flickering moment passes by, the next it has done its leap. There’s no where to hide.

I’m brought back to consciousness with a spasm, like marks of claws, red stripes rests on my fragile skin. Thin trickles of blood, from wounds not yet dried. Like the marks of claws, though really something else, because I still hold the cold blade so close in my hand. A poodle of this red fluid, next to my foot, caught my attention. My eyes glanced over my scarified arm, how am I going to explain this if someone asks me. Would anyone believe I’ve gotten in the claws of a predator? Would anybody even wonder? Anyhow I don’t have the time to think about this now.

-          Open the bathroom door! There are more persons then you who needs to use it!

Oh, mum. As fast as I can I wipe up the blood on the floor, flung my sweater over my head to cover my scars and hurries out before she yells again. The paper I flushed down the toilet. There’s no evidence of my crime.

Next night again the huge cat-looking savage was in my dreams and this time again it scratched me and my arms. The morning after I still recalled the dream as clearly as I experienced it in real life. Even though I still went to the bathroom and proceeded the same ritual as yesterday. To hide this I wore a sweater again, in spite of the warm wheatear outside. So far everything was cool, no one has said anything to me, and frankly who would?

The scars grow and become more and more for everyday, every night I dreamt the same dream, about the savage with claws and me, the victim. No longer it’s claws just scratch my arms, it’s reaching for my throat and heart. 

One day it becomes one cut to many, in the wrong spot and to deep. Now when she rests in her grave with all these scars, you wonder, wonder about the predator. Wonder about….

                                                                 The claws.

Mitt mål är att kunna skriva något orginellt igen. Har början på säkert 30 berättelser som kan mynna ut i både noveller eller böcker jag vet bara inte vilken jag ska satsa på, om ens någon, eller om jag behöver en ny idé. Jag vet bara att jag vill skriva igen. Skriva något bra, något som fångar människor. Frågan är bara vad jag ska skriva?