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This collection contains five short stories by Jan Willemson (in Estonian).

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Külaline Naine Sina Surmapäev Teater

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Kertomuksia arkipäivän outoudesta ja muistojen hauraudesta.

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Kirgisian galaksi Suurosen ikkuna Taakenham Igor Jermanni Leinoska Provencen pataa Bakeliitin suku Lago Ardan Tilapäistyttö

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Am căutat să scriu o nuvelă fantastică, alegorică, prin care să evoc figura Sfânatului martir Constantin Vodă Brâncoveanul. Pesonajul care va aduce în prezent evenimentele din acea tulbure perioadă este G., un om obişnuit, dar totodată misterios, a cărui identintate rămane necunoscută: „Numele meu? Nu are nicio importanţă, continuă G. imperturbabil. Cine sunt? Exist în subconştientul fiecăruia. Cum de am atâta influenţă? Sunt mesagerul năzuinţelor de veacuri ale neamului românesc. Ele se găsesc adormite în adâncimile insondabile ale subconştientului colectiv, iar eu am fost chemat să le trezesc. De ce tocmai eu? Am fost iniţiat de rădăcinile duhovniceşti ale neamului. Iniţiala mea? Poate veni de la…“...

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Avez-vous été jamais pris dans une dimension déformée de l’espace-temps ? Si c’est le cas, cette histoire vous rappellera peut-être des souvenirs lointains. Sinon, vous serez au moins prévenu et armé pour affronter une telle expérience. Mais attention : si vous tentez de sortir de cette situation grâce à votre raisonnement rationnel, préparez-vous à des moments difficiles à vivre....

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Lorsqu’il atteignit l’immeuble, personne ne l’attendait. Le soleil de l’après-midi brûlait la rue, mais heureusement l’entrée se trouvait du côté ombragé. Il poussa un soupir de soulagement en s’asseyant sur les marches en pierre fraîches du seuil. Il devait rencontrer quelqu’un ici, mais la chaleur et la marche dans les rues poussiéreuses avaient embrouillé son esprit et sa mémoire. Avec un peu de chance, ce repos à l’ombre l’aiderait à recouvrer ses sens. Il songeait encore à son état lorsqu’il entendit une voix tout près de lui. - Bonjour, je suis Claudine Bertin, ravie de vous connaître. Je suis contente que vous ayez pu venir. - Tout le plaisir est pour moi, Mademoiselle Bertin. - S’il vous plaît, appelez-moi Claudine. - D’accord, pas de problème. Alors vous m’appellerez Jean-Hubert. Il se leva et serra la main tendue. C’était une surprise agréable de voir cette jeune femme énergique alors qu’il s’attendait à rencontrer un agent immobilier chauve et grisonnant, épais et fade. Il eut cependant une sensation légèrement désagréable en touchant sa main. Sa peau était froide et rêche, un surprenant cont...

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"L'appartement" - une nouvelle.

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These are short stories, written with minimal editing to preserve the visceral structure; Most of the stories are composed to be read and experienced in the way that dreams might present themselves....

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Be advised: work contains very strong language and scenes of a sexually explicit and violent content. Recommended minimum age of 18 years

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At Sea is a series of short stories set in London (mainly East) with a wide array of characters, some of whom were born in London, some are visiting and some can't leave. From the struggling Glaswegian artist who boards the train to his ex-girlfriends birthday party in the country to the young mother who can't leave her past behind her and the devout, Nigerian, churchgoer who cleans her place of worship with conviction and everything in between, At Sea casts characters from diverse backgrounds with hopes and fears but keeps them together in the hothouse that is a city of 8 million....

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Hilary's Birthday Bus Stop The Interpreters The Garden Mercy Glass Rose

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Designed for the discriminating reader who expects a good story, good characters, and above all an aesthetic experience. It's in the language, you know? Contact me at R1234J@hotmail.com...

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There goes Le Roi de Soliel rolling down the hill. Like Roy always says: the first thing you do when you open one of these gallon jugs is toss the cap away. Now, he’s tumbling down a dirt path in the Presidio with the lights of The City winking behind and the GGB, a waterfront hack’s “golden”, glistening through the light fog and beckoning dead ahead. Michigan Bob gets to Roy first to make sure the wine is intact, both of them laughing and coughing, a couple of lunatics in the darkness. Just like them to howl at a new moon as now here comes Tex plummeting down the hill to meet them, hoping he can arrest his momentum before he bowls them over like a couple of tenpins needed for a spare. ...

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THERE GOES LE ROI DE SOLIEL... AN OLD SCORE THE GOOD PROFESSOR A VISIT TO THE LIBRARY WASHINGTON SQUARE CHANCE ENCOUNTER RELAY THE NATURE OF WORLDS THE EDUCATION OF HENRY APPEL, A NOVELLA...

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Agent Frank Nicola Stein works for the Department of Energetic Intelligence as an undercover investigator that spies on miracles of periodic occurrence - The Garden of Eden. Join Agent Stein as he snoops on the rise of the most brilliant people in the world. Then watch as his own life takes a turn down a path of depression that stirs up a Rapture of successful mistakes....

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Have you ever been caught up in a warped space-time situation ? If you have, this will wake up forgotten memories. If you have not, you will be better armed to handle the experience. But if you try to deal with irrational situations using your rational thinking, you may go through a hard time....

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When he reached the building, there was no one yet waiting. The afternoon sun was blazing the street, but fortunately the entrance was on the shady side. He heaved a sigh of relief and sat on the cool stone steps. He knew he was meeting someone here but the heat and his walk through the busy dusty streets had muddled up his mind and memory. He hoped that some rest in the shade would bring him back to his full senses. He was still daydreaming about his condition when he heard her voice close to him. - Hi, my name is Deborah Highbridge, glad you could make it. - Hi, no problem. Pleased to meet you, Miss Highbridge. - You can call me Deborah. - OK, then you can call me Anthony. He got up to shake her hand. He was startled but pleased to see a young energetic woman, when he had expected to meet some typically dull fat elderly real estate dealer. Yet he disliked the touch of her hand on his. It was cold and rough, such a contrast with her appearance, as if it belonged to another person. Especially in the midst of summer. She was elegant but not flashy, with hazelnut eyes and auburn hair. A very m...

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The stories: Stories up to 2500 words in length. Some are a bit tense; some are amusing, some border on nonsense. Some are science fiction. Some are on the scary side. The poems: Poems are descriptive of the change of seasons. Are written in stanza form and have the elements of rhyme and rhythm in them. ...

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After the story, I thought of it as something to scare the younger kids. During the evening I went around to the food table and took as much candy as I could. Of course I never let anyone see me and always left some, as mom had taught me to do....

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The Haunted Bridge in Town Time Trip to Missouri Cow Kidnapping Fishing Escape to Party Playing the Game Waiting Positive Thinking for Christmas Santa Monthly Chinese Christmas Decorations Poems ...

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**Contemporary Flash Fictions; not suitable for preteens & below.** A broken relationship; a hopeful lady; a full-of-rage heart of a man; a sound of a gun; a floor of blood and other scenarios. If your soul sides death; if your heart follows crumbling scenes; if your mind adores sorrow; if your eyes love blood, this anthology will fill your needs with different stories that end up tragically....

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Acknowledgement Author’s Note Let the Water Rise Like I Said He is the King Do You? Elites What You Once Gave Me Let Us Play Will Not Let It I Still Remember Underwater I Never Thought I Can Ever Have Perfect Ceremony Sister Aida Along with What We Found Mystery Purity Days Hope in Hell Wide, Blue Sea Ashes Knife and Hell Will You? Rivers Payback Owned Words Prayers Guitar Tunes Marathon Memories Saving Maeve The Way We Fall One Day Lies Gone Eternal Lives Goodbye I Love You Element Wooden Chair Dear Layla Blame Aviss Windowsill What We Are Two Hours Falling Thunders Burned Waiting Butterfly MaryAnne Under Finally The End About the Author...

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In the post-Civil War period, our hero Matthew Wilson, during a trip to see his partner in New Orleans, finds himself stranded in the deadly uncharted swamp with no tools or help. On his journey back to civilization, he encounters a deranged domestic prisoner and his wife, deadly wildlife, and many other threats....

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The driver cleared his throat. “They take fifteen minutes to get there us half the time. J.S Peterson Carriage has a commitment to quality that never ends.” Although he had just commenced his job, he already had the tired, repetitive tone of someone who had repeated that phrase innumerable times. To the couple's surprise, the horses quickly lurched into a dark underworld of a street. Untamed mosses and vines swallowed up the dilapidated, vacant houses, which bore signs of antiquated engineering and design. They were slowly sinking into the soft ground, as Nature took them back from Man....

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Chapter 1 Chapter 2

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'The Virgin Mary had more lines but I had the better costume.' After the Christmas play was announced, I had been dreaming all autumn of the Virgin Mary and the essence of femininity that I knew the role possessed if I could only get it. No longer would I have to pull on pants, hide my hair, swagger around with plastic swords or sit in a chair uttering the mild regrets of middle age. No, for once I would be the centre of delight and attention, with a husband, a donkey and various deferential well-wishers from all walks of life to support my soft and vulnerable womanhood while at the same time getting the lion’s share of lines and scenes. Tender, frail, passive and beautiful, I would be the chosen one. The star. But since I had the wrong religion, this was not to be.' For everyone who has ever been in a school play, or whose daughter is in one right now. At the age of nine, Nyla runs into the hard facts of life. Her school nativity play turns out to be a pretty ugly affair. It opens up the cracks in the social divides, religious discrimination and dark family secrets. Told with wry humour and compassion for the pain of ch...

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At first I had been upset. I was the best actress in class, not just by my own assessment but also as overheard several times in comments from my teacher. So when the roles were handed out, I was stunned. The lead went to a class mate who had never shown a special interest in the theatre. I looked at her. She smiled and acknowledged the privilege, her blonde hair shimmering in the late morning winter sunlight that fell through the class room windows. Was it my hair? Then I looked around in the room and at all the other girls who had been cast in background parts. Why her? The boys, of course, had plenty of parts to share amongst them. Joseph, shepherds, inn keepers, Romans, kings... At least I had been cast in the second best female part – I was the archangel Gabriel. But right then I have to admit I felt nothing but contempt for the archangel Gabriel. A consolation prize, appearing in only one scene. Why? The answer was a lot more complex than I knew. In fact I had fallen afoul of religious discrimination. It was a late aftertaste of the persecution that had made my ancestors walk all the way across Europe in search of a sa...