Blame(d)
WARNING: my prose can be disturbing for sensitive persons and is of course 100% fictional. As November darkness devours my sanity I recall how it started already when traversing into […]
Category Archives: prosery
A righteous man
To be righteous doesn’t mean to be right but to be superior, a hero with a pale skin to match. October, and there you can see a very small patch […]
Mothers and daughter
I dress in stolen darkness, slipping out unwatched, to meet and mix, skin on skin, belly, buttocks to breasts, misinterpreting teenage cravings as eternal love, believing in forever and I […]
Behind me
That last time we tried, pretending, hand in hand, in strained silence walking to the lake. The birches dressed in sheer green with a white carpet of wood anemones underneath […]
Mud under shoes
Ami-Rose Bell, sleepless, high on whatever, sat at the formica table, doodling in the pallid grease film their bender had left. Chuck left at dawn, going back to his wife. […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 