Tag: writing

dreamscapes: fear

Gaia remembered the first weeks, even months after moving to live in the city were petrifying. She would mostly sit in her room and listen to the sounds of the streets invading her room through the open window – voices of people passing by, dogs barking, bells ringing – and


Walking down the street she first heard the music. It was somewhat haunting and exquisitely beautiful all at once. Gaia saw a crowd of people that had gathered in a circle around someone or something she couldn’t see. Walking closer she couldn’t deny that the curiosity was growing by each

some questions answered

First of all, a big thank you to the wonderful J who is behind the Diary of an Aesthete (make sure you check it out, because it is nothing short of amazing) for the lovely surprise – a nomination of my site for an award!!! Its always a pure delight

believe in what you cannot see

Everything was black. Gaia couldn’t even see her own hand she knew she had raised to the level of her eyes. She tried to remember where she was but her memory was just as black as everything around. Whatever this place was it lacked any sound or smell which could

the spell the night casts

There was a sound in the night. The sound of a crowd’s chatter that was so typical for a busy Venetian day on crowded tourist trails. Gaia frowned. Normally at this hour – and especially in winter – Venice and the most serene of silences were playing charades. Only some

the way they met…

“Did I catch you off guard doing naughty things?” Voice soft as slowly falling snow asked as the door of her apartment opened. Gaia pretended to laugh. “Yeah. Extremely naughty actually. Drinking tea.” “That can be very naughty.” “Right…” She had first met the owner of this voice on a

black mirror

Staring at the girl across the table from her Gaia felt a cold smirk curve her lips, yet she knew the the other one had no chance of noticing said reaction. The black mirror deceptively small and blinking with rainbow light that was in fact layers and layers of darkness

from the vault: kaleidoscope gone mad

The monster emerged suddenly from the blackness of the seemingly peaceful night and grabbed her by the throat, waking her. Her eyes flew wide open and she gasped. The house. The upper floor. The room crammed with antiques. The pages with strange writings on them. The bracelet. The carnival. The

A tale of two cities

This blog is a place where normally photographs do all the talking, but lets make this post an exception, shall we? No photographs. Only words. The reason for such a decision was today’s question by the Daily Post: If you could split your time evenly between two places, and two

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