Raincheck
You ask me to describe the scent of fear, and I blush ashamed. For some it’s a fragrance red and bloodstained, other say it smells of ice and snow. Fear […]
Category Archives: Friday Fictioneers
Scattered
Stockholm four PM and almost dark. My Iphone vibrates. The caller-ID begins with +49, that’s Germany. Who of my siblings could it be? Lila maybe. “Hello, who’s it?” “Is this […]
Escape or yet a prison?
I see a staircase leading to the stars; to his bedroom upstairs. For far too long, we have been locked by poverty and war. Between the bombings in Damascus to […]
After the coma
Through the curtains I hear voices, pink as candy-floss. Is this my merry-go-round? Future, present or my past? An angel approaches, her wings are broken but her hair is gold. […]
All on black
It’s not stealing I had said — I only need this win, and I will pay them back. She won’t fight for custody; she’ll take me back. This is the […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 