Monthly Archives: May 2014



Falling, it was easy, she’d done it before, in her dreams, she’d had many dreams about falling into space, nothingness, forgetfulness, because there, there was no one to hate her, no one to lock her out, no one at all. Just nothing, and the thought was appealing: she wouldn’t have to hide anymore, she wouldn’t have to become mute so that nothing she said could be used against her, she wouldn’t have to try to lock the world out. Standing on the edge it all sounded right, no one wanted her and she would fall into oblivion, the world didn’t need her.

Standing on the edge she was determined, but she was also afraid, because she knew that she wasn’t falling to nothing: she was falling onto a hard road where, if she was lucky, she would get crushed on impact. If she wasn’t lucky… she would either get hit by a car or strike a lamppost on the way down, not very nice thoughts but ones she couldn’t get out of her mind. A small part of her still wanted to live, nagging at the back of her mind.
She stood staring down for a while until she realised that she couldn’t do it; her instinct to live was too strong. But by now there was turning back… it was too late. She had her back against the wall, her pain pushing forward, her instinct pushing back and she was stuck in the middle of this tug of war neither able to jump nor go back.
So she sat there and cried alone in the dark. If you see her, pull her away, let her see that not all is lost, show her that there is so much more to life. Please. For her. And for all the people who died thinking they weren’t worth it. Because they were, they were every bit worth the precious life they owned and they should never have thrown it away. No one ever should. If you find her, please tell her this: “you are not alone”, because in these times, that may be all she wants to hear. Thank you.

Leave a comment

Posted by on 18 May 2014 in Banzaï


Tags: , ,

Toys of Flesh and Blood

Thud thud thud thud

Thud thud thud thud

Go the toy soldiers as they march out to war,

Thud thud thud thud

Thud thud thud thud

Marching to the beat of the toy drummer’s drum,

Thud thud thud tara-

Tata taratata,

Toy men and boys march

With toy guns, swords and cannons

Thud thud thud tara-

Tata taratata

Boom tatata boom tatata boom tatata boom

Down go the toy soldiers still fighting for glory and worth

Down those on horseback with the bright, coloured clothes,

Boom tatata boom

Tatata boom tatata boom

Out come the soldiers – the ones who don’t have swords

But wear them on their guns, shiny small and sharp

Boom tatata boom

Tatata boom tatata boom

Here there are no drummer boys nor coloured uniforms

But dirty holes in which they hide and wait for bombs to strike

Boom tatata boom

Tatata boom tatata boom

Here horrified poets write of horrible war to home

And others like to sit and stare and wait for bullets or maybe shells

To hit their mark and end the pain,

Boom tatata boom

Tatata boom tatata boom

There is no glory here.

Boom tatata boom

Tatata boom tatata boom

When war is won and all is lost and strewn upon the ground

Then a newer kind of soldier comes out to play

Some call him atom bomb, some just call him nuke

But wherever A-bomb goes, disaster strikes like no-one knows

Save those too far away to fall and those that passed away.


There is no sound for war now all the soldiers go and hide,

If ever A comes out again no-one will survive…


Posted by on 17 May 2014 in Banzaï


Tags: , ,

DragonSpark – High School

High School…
Before you get there, it seems to you like the pinnacle of freedom and drama.
You pick your classes, attend some and skip the others.
While in the class, the only work that is done is that of friendship and camaraderie.
Teachers are all snooty and students all smart.
People are mature but jovial.
You have a locker and a group of friends.
You’re the star of the show.
…Just like in the movies.
To the 10th and 9th grade students: You’re in for one hell of a ride…
…Just like in the movies.

Read the rest of this entry »

Leave a comment

Posted by on 16 May 2014 in Dragonspark


Tags: ,

Family Meals

Some families sit at a table,
Mind their manners,
Talk of grown-up stuff as if they knew everything about anything.
The kids or the mother (or sometimes even just the girls) get the dishes and clean up afterwards.

Other families take their meal in front of the TV,
Not speaking, not looking at each other,
Then everything goes in the dishwasher and not a word is spoken.

Some families each take their plate, like at a buffet
And then go to sit somewhere alone, do homework, watch TV, read…
And you can often find various pieces of cutlery, plates and glasses around their house.

Some families have the boring table full of grown-ups in the dining room
And the fun table of children in the kitchen: eating food with their hands, challenging each other to try to slurp their spaghetti without using hands, getting the whipped cream, ice cream and sugar out for any desert and getting some all over the place.
Then the children go to bed while the adults stay to tidy up and wonder why maple syrup is dripping from the ceiling.

Some families sit at the table and argue about everything,
They have such different views that the only way for the conversation to end is declaring a stalemate at the end of the meal,
Picking food from different dishes around the table.

My family…
We talk about “what did you do today?”
And then the meal ends with us poking each other, saying silly things, making funny noises and making faces across the table…
Washing the dishes takes place in good humour and songs we sing, my brothers and I and in these times I’m happy to be just who and where I am.

Read the rest of this entry »


Posted by on 15 May 2014 in Banzaï


Tags: ,

Loss of Inspiration

Peace… serenity… a deep untamed plain with untapped secrets before me. I search for the inspiration as it gives itself up to me, bit by bit, by an art that few have mastered. I am patient because I am confident that ,given the time, a new story will be born from the ashes of that rich desert of unseen riches. I know that those who believe what they see are blind. 
I am almost there… that idea, that inspiration is so close I can smell it, I could touch it if I stretched- MUNCH MunCh mUNcH “watcha doin’?”
I calm down and try to forget the irritation of being torn from this meditation as I answer “writing…”
He looks doubtfully at the blank page on my phone:
“No you’re not, you haven’t written anything”
“Because I’m waiting for inspiration…”
“What you’re just waiting? You know that’s not going to work right?”
Thank you Mr know-it-all but I’ve written far more stories than you…
Because I’m going to ignore that ignorant remark…
“Tell me when it doesn’t work”
Okay genius… I think as I sarcastic-look him away. 
Finally I can try again… sLURp… *dogfeetnoise* pitter patter pitter patter… BROLOMBODOM *dogcomingdownthestairsnoise*

On the Ning Nang Nong 
where the Cows go Bong!
And the Monkeys all say Boo!

SluRP *milkshakenoise* whirrrrrBOOMclac *slidingdoornoise* creak creak creak *someonewalkingupstairsnoise*
Every noise has a name. 

There’s a Nong Nang Ning 
Where the trees go Ping!
And the teapots Jibber Jabber Joo.

I’ll try again then – *theme music and annoying game music that follows during the entire game (meaning a long time knowing him)*
Exasperated I give up and move upstairs and he didn’t even see me leave, he was so engrossed in his game…

On the Nong Ning Nang 
All the mice go Clang!
And you just can’t catch ’em when they do!

So it’s Ning Nang Nong!
Cows go Bong!
Nong Nang Ning!
Trees go Ping!
Nong Ning Nang!
The mice go Clang!
What a noisy place to belong,
Is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!

Poem: On the Ning Nang Nong by Spike Milligan

Leave a comment

Posted by on 13 May 2014 in Banzaï


Tags: ,

DragonSpark – A Dragon’s Spark

I was sitting on a boulder, at the edge of a ridge. Above me, the heavens were wrapped in darkness. The clouds shifted, casting an ominous shadow on the ground. Dark, thick clouds they were. The town in the distance had burst aflame mere minutes ago, lighting up the evening sky with an orange hue. Sins were being answered for. Souls were begging for a mercy that would not come. A dragon was on the loose.
What did they expect?
A few moons ago, the King had called for the extermination or capture of all dragons throughout the realm. Hunters had been appointed. Squads had been brought together. The King was going to show those oversized, flying lizards who was the true ruler of the land.
He was confident, as dragons had always been peaceful creatures, never attacking unless provoked first. However when an affront was made to their very existence…
The one that the village hunters had captured was the very first dragon to be attacked by the King’s Crusade, the first victim of Human overconfidence. They put him to sleep with coated arrows and locked him up bellow the town’s moat. However a couple of hours ago, I sensed that the village I had called home, despite the hatred of its inhabitants for all things natural, was about to see its last sunset.
I was a Spark, a mortal being that had channeled the arcane powers of fire unconsciously upon birth. I could understand the dragons, empathize with them, and communicate with them. Those of us who made their abilities public were either tortured to death or executed. Luckily for me, I knew better than to host a mummer’s show in the town square. Besides, the arrogance of the villagers had brought enough fire to the town without my engulfing a couple of branches in flames. Remembering their faces, I felt sorry for a few, but sad for none. They had all treated Nature and her creations with disrespect, hunting during mating seasons, chopping trees in the summer and emptying the wastes of the town straight into the river. If anything this was Justice, a strict Justice, but Justice nevertheless.
Those dragons had now become the weapons of Nature to fight back against Human aggression, and Nature was very kind towards innocents, but ruthless towards aggressors. In most towns throughout the land, the steady beat of music was still alive with happiness. In those towns, food was tasty and hunger was scarce. In those towns, they didn’t leave agonizing animals to rot in the forest because of a hunter’s complaints on its quality of fur. In this town however, the only sound that now lived was that of searing fire and burning wood.
A roar of rage brought me back to reality. The dragon had been hit. I closed my eyes and focused my soul on his presence, sending my consciousness out in the town’s direction. What I saw was gloomy. The dragon had multiple arrows in his wings. Arrogance had won its first victory… Or had it?
I jumped down from my rock and started alongside the ridge, going back the way I came. I spawned a ball of fire in my hand, as if to make sure which side I was on. I had never killed, but my kin was in danger of death, and those about to end the creature’s life didn’t deserve to have one of their own.
I was walking across the plains that led to the town when I sensed something. I stopped. A smile crept up on my face despite me, a cynical smile to say the least. There were probably less than 100 knights left in the village. I was confident that, despite my mortal body, I could reach the wounded dragon, heal him with my fire and, if worse came to worse, ride him far from these corrupt people. That was no longer needed. I walked to a lone tree near me. I climbed on its lower branches and rested my back against the trunk. When Nature passes a sentence on those who harm it, that sentence will be executed no matter what. Thoughts similar to this phrase ran through my head as winged shadows traversed the fields with incredible speed. Above, the owners of these shadows were roaring with anger, preparing to unleash the cleansing flames of Nature upon the corruption of Humanity.
If the fire wasn’t big enough before, then it was about to become just that.

Read the rest of this entry »


Posted by on 11 May 2014 in Dragonspark


Tags: , , ,

Speakeasy #161 – Of Monsters And Men

We could have achieved so much, you and I, but you locked me in a cage, said I gave a bad image and then you did things to me, to try and make more people like me because you wanted an army. But you didn’t want me. All you ever did was deceive me. All you did was lie and I now I can’t sit still. You said you wanted to help me, I wanted us to rule the world and I trusted you as you stabbed me in the back. You’re the bad guy, you locked me up. So I have to be the good guy and defeat you. This is why I can’t sit still you see, justice is calling and I have to do what’s right. I can hear it now, the quiet thudding, I stand up and smash the lock and open the door. Now it’s getting louder as I suddenly know which way to go to get out and I storm out. Along with the thudding in my heart is now a deafening rhythmic booming thump waiting for the action to go with the music but I know where to go. Today is the day you could’ve started your rule. As I got closer the music got louder and the rage spilled out of me like a fire consuming everything in its wake, the clouds shifted, casting an ominous shadow on the ground.
I will end your rule before it even starts. When I see you all I see is you, all I hear this music inside my head and I feel the poking of more and more bullets bouncing of my body, I am unstoppable, I am god.
We could’ve had it all, but you played by the rules and ended up with nothing. With your bleeding entrails in my huge hands and bits of your brain scattered on the floor.
We could’ve had it all…

Read the rest of this entry »


Posted by on 11 May 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy


Tags: , ,

DragonSpark – Adrift

« So are you game? » The crack of a radio communication followed the crisp feminine voice that pronounced the interrogation.
Drops of sweat were floating in his helmet. Earth was bellow, Space was behind.
“You have strange ways of asking me if I’m willing to put this ship and the life of everyone in it on the line”.
“Even if we do explode in a blur of shrapnel and death, it’s a lot better than a slow agony while being adrift in space, a few thousand miles from the surface!” She was getting frustrated. Everyone was on edge.
Saying the situation was extreme would be an understatement. Language was no longer a tool quite capable of describing it. The Synergy was a military transport ship patrolling Earth’s orbit. It was a prototype. Clearly the design was flawed. One of the nuclear fusion engines had failed. The crew ejected the core before detonation. Half the ship was vaporized. The other half was now floating around earth’s orbit, its captain walking around the surface along with some survivors, looking for anything useful. Life support had failed. Comms were down. The orbit seemed stable, but it was unpredictable, unable to reach quickly. Rescue was impossible. In two hours maximum, not an atom of oxygen would be left on this glorified flying piece of junk. And now the captain’s second in command was asking him if he was willing to attempt reentry.
“Our chances of success are almost negligible. We have nukes onboard. If we miss the Atlantic, half of South Africa will either be wiped off the map or contaminated for at least 900 years, and that’s IF we even make it down there! The heat of reentry just might detonate them above the surface! If that happens, radiation might kill people in the Middle East!”
“This ship is made of the most resistant alloy known to man!”
“We have a gaping hole in the back!”
“Can’t we purge the nukes out here!?”
“Right and leave nuclear bombs just floating in an unstable orbit? If that doesn’t start World War IV, we’ll still get executed in court martial! Besides, half of them are buried behind a wall of rubble made of the most resistant alloy known to man!”
A short silence followed. Getting mad would bring them nowhere. The woman spoke up.
“Listen, we have 1400 survivors, most of them with a family to return to. If we act quickly, we’ll never even make it near the coast.”
Her plan was simple. Detonate the bombs they still had access to far away enough from the ship so as not to cause any damage, but close enough to push them into Earth’s gravity. The flanks and hull of the vessel were intact, and reentry was possible if they could control the massive structure with the still functional auxiliary thrusters. The crew could hide in the bunkers, away from the intense heat. The command room was also isolated. The armory where part of the nukes were was hit by the shockwave of the initial blast and multiple leaks where made in the isolation. Furthermore, that room was blocked by a pile of rubble and could not be moved by hand. If temperature in that room rose too high, the ship and all those within it would become smithereens. The same would happen if the ship crashed on land. However water could short circuit the trigger and activates the safety mechanism, putting the bomb on lockdown, preventing any detonation.
“We might even be able to land somewhat safely if we deploy the wings and guide the ship with those!” She added.
After an hour of reflection while he went back inside and took off his suit, the captain walked into the command room.
“I’m game.”


So Dragonspark is my illustrator friend I talked briefly about in my last post; I challenged him to try writing a text for the speakeasy and this is what he came up with 🙂 (he also came up with a title and a cool name along with the suggestion I try writing steampunk that he would be willing to illustrate).
This is the first time he actually wrote a story (in English because he did one in French for a project) and I applaud him for letting me put it on my blog where accomplished writers follow me and (usually when there’s a link to it) comment on my posts.
Dragonspark you have no idea what I’m dragging you into 😉

Above is the unedited, untouched post that started it all for me. This was written in a day when I didn’t have a Gravatar, when I didn’t know anybody at YeahWrite, and, for that matter, when I didn’t quite know how to write. Was that really a few months ago? Feels like forever… This post holds a special place in my heart, so it will stay as is. I’m plopping this at the end to give you guys a little context. Feel free to leave thoughts, questions, criticism, and anything else in the comment section below. It’s always a pleasure reading those!



Posted by on 8 May 2014 in Dragonspark


Tags: ,

Speakeasy #160 Bright Darkness part 1

“Tell me if you’re game”
Message received 9:34

I check my watch: 10:13
Two minutes before we get back to work. 
…so tonight then, I think…
I don’t need to think twice about this, she knows this is the only reason I stuck around in the first place. 

“I’m in”

Message sent 10:15

Just as the alarm rings. “Get back to work break’s over!” Bellows a huge voice in a stocky little man. 
It takes us a while to get back to work, we may be lazy but we’re organised so when it’s time to work the work gets done. Our team is effective but it’s leaking treason and treachery. Organised treason an treachery of all kinds in this mixing bowl, this cooking pot where the inside mixes and mingles an the outside see only how effective we are. 
Some people here have contact with the outside, it costs them precious food and occasionally clothes but in return they get news an messages from the revolutionaries. 
We are building a tunnel, a huge one, we were told it’s for a train but it was a lie. It’s huge, way too big for a train and it’s long, so long that some of us have forgotten what “outside” looked like. But we keep digging with our big machines. 
Not for long now though. 
What long ago was our own is taken. What was planet Earth is now a colony. N°58 to be exact. If you add up 5 and 8 you get 13. Some call it good luck for us. Others have called the revolution: 13. 
I am one of the few women to work in The Tunnel. At 19, I’m also the youngest. I’ve been here three years, I’m not afraid anymore, and I’ve lost the little innocence I had left. This is my third year and I’ve been accepted as part of the team. My thin fingers led me to the bombs. You need small hands to put together a good bomb, they’re needed to make good holes in the wall so the machines can go in and clear out the rubble. Like everyone else I did my part for this, I supplied the explosives I was asked for with an explanation of how they work, in my spare time I made frag grenades and smoke bombs and very big bombs with timers not unlike the ones I usually make. I won’t be using them. 
I’ve heard rumours, that The Tunnel is where they’ll put us all when they’re done with us, that the aliens three metres tall we’ve seen are only babies and the adults are giant worms that will live in this tunnel and we are the food, some people say they’re building a bunker and preparing to fight a full scale war. They’re just stories but I’ve seen people who believe in them as if they were irrefutable facts. 
I hope we never get to find out what it’s for. 
The aliens came five years ago, when I was 14. The Government was afraid and all nuclear weapons were fired and the battle lost. They didn’t even attack, they just showed how useless our weapons and when we had nothing left they came down and destroyed our biggest capitals to make sure we were disorganised and couldn’t keep attacking. For the next two years I was living in the rubble and I had joined a group of hungry but determined people. We were going to end this, but our hopes were too high and our resources too low, I was the youngest and less useful so I had to go. Then I heard about this place: work in exchange for food and shelter. But most of all the fact that people kept fighting. 

“13 0400”
Message received 12:01

I don’t have much to complain about, my job’s not too hard on me and they make sure we have enough food. I have my own bed if not my own room and I get to be in a room with only women (the only women here). But I’m doing this for the others and to idealistically claim back our planet. I want to live freely. 


Phone rings
Message received 04:00

This is just the beginning

Read the rest of this entry »

Leave a comment

Posted by on 8 May 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy


Tags: , , , ,