Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

9/Apr/2013

Ablach

Remember the last time you felt at home anywhere. Close your eyes if it helps. Lie down somewhere, relax, stop listening for the signs of the apocalypse. Let the blurry contours make their way through the haze of memory until they’re sharp, colourful. And remember with more than your sight, too. The scents and the ambient sounds and the sensation of a hand moving up and down your side, slowly, as if having all the time there is in the world to have. And remember the taste of the cooking, of the air, of everything.

You will be there again.

Leave a comment

8/Apr/2013

Shadows

And if you see me, pretend not to know me. I always watch where the sun throws my contours; worried, excited. If our shadows should ever overlap, it will rend the earth we stand on. They are the spiteful, angry shapes that outline us. We will suspect an earthquake – we are Californians, after all – but even the air will vibrate, even the invisible strings that connect our hearts. I will go far away, in my mind, and I hope we will never meet in well-lit rooms. Always cherish the darkness, love that which keeps us nebulous and hard to define.

Leave a comment

7/Apr/2013

Finally

Space prodded the protective layer around the planet, and gathered itself like one takes a deep breath. It pushed through the atmosphere out over the Atlantic and the sea shimmered like the crystal it had just become. The cold travelled quicker than the nothing so when it reached the shores, freezing waves mid-break and snapping people in two, the people further inland had some warning. Space swallowed the half-people and the whole people then, the time of one panicked phone call to loved ones later.

Space engulfed all. It was satisfactory, for how long had it not waited for this?

Leave a comment

6/Apr/2013

Landmine

This is a landmine, but it is unloaded for you. When you feel bad you should open it and you can tell that others feel like you. You can see the traces of their survival on the little bomb’s skin, and you can feel the texture of being so close to defeat, if you run your fingers along the edge, but be careful. The bad stuff will collect in it until it is brimming with it, and that is when you must walk away. Give the insidious little bomb away, because it can only hurt the one who loaded it.

Leave a comment

5/Apr/2013

Maxquile I

Maxquile I was a stray dog with a GPS tracker on his collar. He was scruffy, he was adorable. He had learnt from a young age to identify the kind of children who always had wanted a dog, and to follow them home. He was perfectly behaved, and he played with those who played with him and he left alone those who left him alone. When there were no people about he would stand still near windows and he would howl. That was when the grey men came and took him away, along with all the valuables in the house.

Leave a comment

4/Apr/2013

Learn to Walk, Learn to Walk

You learned to walk when you were ten months old. When four years had gone since that day, you broke both your legs. You learned to walk with those legs once more, and you learned too fast so you lost them. You learned to walk with fake legs, and they made you short. You saved up till you could pay for a new real pair, out of flesh. They made you tall ‘cuz you asked for that.

And soon, age will grab hold of you too, and you will learn to walk the stomp-stomp of those who lose their minds.

Leave a comment

3/Apr/2013

Symphony

I sat down at the piano with no plan in mind and sad things started pouring out of it. I tried to catch them, but I had to keep playing. The things fluttered and screeched like animals who know they are about to become extinct. My bookshelves vibrated like hesitant trigger fingers. And a song started to rise in my throat, like the sea, just as wordless. I wondered whether the sad things came from the piano or me, and then the song ended. Perched on my shoulder, one of the sad things tilted its head and stared at me.

Leave a comment

2/Apr/2013

Ready, Aim, Fire

Lights, camera, action.

Lights. His pupils shrink and sweat beads start forming on his forehead, crawling their way out of all the make-up. Camera. He’s aware that this will be shown on every TV-screen for hundreds of miles, even if, especially if, he fucks up. They’ve only got one take. Lights, camera – people are making gestures, getting everything in order. There are millions in this for him. He’s holding his breath even though that’s a bad habit. Lights. His fingers drum on the AK47 held behind his back. Camera. He’s wearing someone else’s face. What is taking so long?

Action.

Leave a comment

1/Apr/2013

Red Rotary Phone

It’s a pretty tall building, isn’t it? And aerodynamic.

If you go down deep enough, to the fundaments, you will find the rocket fuel, and under that you will find the thrusters. The metal canisters have been there since the 50’s, so there is no guarantee that anything will work, but it’s there. If you pound them you can hear it sloshing. Cobwebs galore, all over, and the displays are stuck, in all likelihood. Search enough and you will find the manual with all the telephone numbers and launch codes.

There is a red rotary phone on a rickety table.

Leave a comment

1/Apr/2013

Plots You Can Have: Low-Budget Indie Films Edition

Plots You Can Have is an ongoing series of posts where I suggest storylines for stories that came out of my head but that I have given up for adoption. If any of these strike your fancy, please take them! And if you do write anything from this I would love to read it. For more posts, see: tag/plots-you-can-have

This Plots You Can Have is about things I imagine would make good low-budget indie films.

A SICK WORLD

“You have dreamt up a sick world.” (Variations on it are repeated throughout the movie like arc words.)

A person (who is really some form of deity but has repressed it) believes ze is experiencing psychosis and gets worried about it. First scene is where the deity explains to a psychoanalyst – the best in the field – that ze wants the psychoanalyst to follow hir around for a whole year and then come to a conclusion. The therapist protests, of course, but the deity presents hir with a lot of money, up-front, and gives hir a month to finish hir business before ze will come to pick hir up. When the money does not convince the therapist, the deity offers salvation instead.

It transpires that the deity is working as a world-class motivational speaker. The month passes quite quickly; the psychoanalyst lies to hir patients a bit and apologizes profusely but can’t say no to the deity’s offer. They travel the world a bit and things seem to be really quite bad wherever the deity goes. The psychoanalyst starts questioning hir own sanity, and at a conference for downtrodden psychopaths in business-clothes, ze decides the deity is the one who is making things bad. Now ze just needs to prove it.
Read the rest of this entry »

Leave a comment