Not a game anymore. Another rookie translation of a #Mikrofiction.

Mann hockt am Boden und hält ein Messer

I am standing in the corner with my back pressed against the wall. It stinks and is pitch dark in this roads dead end, and that’s just fine with me. Here no one will find my body and the chance of some idiot trying to save me again is close to zero. I just want to finish it, not be brought back again and then have to live on, because someone imagines he would be able to help me. Only this knife will help me after all. Then it will finally stop, that damn, unbearable pain. They kept using me in their perfidious game. Used me and threw me away until my soul was shattered. But this is not a game anymore, it will stop right now.
My heart beats hard and fast as I put the knife to the carotid artery and I almost don`t hear the soft whimpering behind me. I want to ignore it, because it’s none of my business. The tip of the knife touches my skin, and with the faint burning, there is this noise again.
Damn it.
My eyes search the corner between the dumpsters, while my hand is holding its position. There I see a small movement and realize where the noise is coming from. For a second my heart stops and I turn to ice. My God, how can anyone do that?
As soon as I can move again, I turn round and with a rattling noise the knife drops to the cobblestones.
I bend down to help you.

The red notebook. Rookie translation for a friend.

Ein rotes Notizbuch mit Lederschnürung

She was standing in front of the door and breathed relief, because after all it was done.

She had been preparing herself for such a long time, researched minutely and brought everything to light. Every tiny detail about his life was written down in her beautiful red notebook but she really did not, need that notebook at all.

Everything was in her head, and of course in her heart because she loved him from fist sight. Every passing day tore her apart because she could not show herself but today would be different. Today he would get to know her and then he would open his heart for her and they both would be happy after all. She had cooked his favorite food, dressed up nicely and even used some of the new perfume. Her heart pounding, she stood with the tray in front of the door and paused again. Then she pushed it open and entered with a beaming smile.

He had slumped a little while sitting in the chair, but at least he was already awake again. His head jerked up and he stared at her with wide eyes. Then started to wildly tear at the chair, but the zip ties held his hands firmly on the armrests and his ankles snugly tied to chair legs. He tried to say something despite the gag, but she only smiled.

He would understand that they were made for each other, even if it might take some time.

Anerkennung #Mikrotür

Händeschütteln vor dem Hintergrund einer gerade eben geöffneten Tür

Hallo liebe LeserInnen. Mein Beitrag zum Mikrofiction Wettbewerb #Mikrotür steht schon seit dem 6.7. auch auf Facebook und jetzt stelle ich ihn auch hier hinein. Bisher habe ich meine Wettbewerbsbeiträge erst nach Ablauf der Votingphase auch auf anderen Plattformen gepostet. Dieses Mal mache ich eine Ausnahme.

Es gibt Themen, die können nicht bis zum Ende irgendwelcher Wettbewerbe warten, die müssen jetzt gelesen und verbreitet werden, weil sie jetzt wichtig sind. Und zwar ganz unabhängig von Likes und Gewinnen.

Mein Beitrag mag nicht so energisch oder laut daherkommen, wie das Thema es vielleicht verlangt. Ich halte es eher mit Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach:

„Der wahre Zweck eines Buches (Textes) ist, den Geist hinterrücks zum eigenen Denken zu verleiten.“


„Der letzte Kampf“ hat es geschafft!

Gesicht mit Camouflage

Mein Beitrag zum Wettbewerb #mikrotag auf SWEEK hat es auf die Shortlist geschafft. Das bedeutet, dass er zusammen mit den anderen Shortlist-Beiträgen in der Anthologie veröffentlicht wird. Ich freu mich sehr, denn das ist das erste Mal, das eine Wettbewerbs – Kurzgeschichte es so weit bringt. Hier noch der Link zur Mikrofiction Seite, auf der auch „Der letzte Kampf“ zu lesen ist: