Month: March 2014

The writing on the wall

Stories are the essence of our lives. They are what we teach our children, where they get their first taste of morals, of imagination, of ideas thoughts games and so much more. Stories are the oldest form of communication, starting out as cave drawings telling us the stories of old to the most recent biography telling us all we need to know about someone.

However, stories on their own lack a certain something, an idea can be magnificent but without a capable hand it is only that … An idea. A story or specifically a good story needs something more. It needs to grip you from the very beginning, it needs to be well written and more importantly it needs to take you somewhere. Where the story takes you can be different for different people, but it is this little part that always made a story for me. A story that made me want to soar away across the pages to wherever the story took me was a good story. It is that feeling I wanted to share with others. 

Before my writing could go anywhere though, I needed to do a lot of reading. I loved and still love reading and I can devour books as sustenance (forgetting to eat anything worth of caloric value). But when I was but a mere child my family could never afford to get me too many things (books were always expensive). So at first I would wait patiently until I could actually afford to buy the book, but because I would finish the book within a week or two It felt awfully wrong to wait another 6 months to be able to read the book. So at the tender age of 11-13 I spend most of my time in book stores reading books which the shop owners didn’t really like, which is why it was shops and not just a shop.  

However, this all changed at the age of 13 when my dad took me to the library in our small town and got me a membership. That was the end of my shop reading period and the period in which I read everything I could. It was this period also that I really started to write. I started writing quite early, I had learned how to read at the age of 5 and by the age of 7-8 I started writing. My first real stories though took shape at the age of 12 much to the disapprovement of my teachers who had to put up with me writing straight through their classes and handing out the notes to my fellow class mates who would read them. Thus keeping me and them from the lessons we had. A fact I think they still cherish.

Writing has never been difficult or easy for me. That sounds like a contradiction but it isn’t. Let me explain: for some odd reason I always have a million ideas in my head, ideas about stories and adventures and many things too strange to even try to put into writing, Each story would start easily enough half way through I would get bored with them. Not because I didn’t like the story but because I wanted to have all the good bits in them (as put so elegantly in the princess bride). No character development and definitely no need to do with kissing! I wanted action, suspense, mystery, and fantasy and everything else I could find melted together in a magnificent pot of delicious goo.

A book that was a great inspiration to me and always gave me the feeling that nothing was beyond my imagination was the Neverending story. A story filled with stories that to me felt like an endless reservoir of ideas where everything could happen. It was this endless well of ideas and thoughts that helped me and inspired me. Michael Ende also wrote Momo which was another book that really stroke a chord with me. The imagination used and the pacing was everything to me. I could name many other names that have influenced me into certain directions, but next to Michael Ende there was only one inspiration that have punched me in the gut when I finished reading it. It was to me everything I wanted a story to be and up until that moment I thought I knew about stories. But he took what I knew and threw it straight back at me in a book called a maze of death by Philip K. Dick. A book that really inspired me to not stop thinking about the story, and that any story can grow to become something incredible. All it needs is some water, food, a good soil, sun and the nice warm rays of the light which can make any story a success.

writing challange


Slow (30/03/2014)

Silence is stiffening for a flower that is screaming

Darkness is bright for a child that is blind

Yellow and Red and the colors of the dead

When ember and blood emerge from the flood


It is the wind that picks it up

Swirls like a question mark that lost its dot

In the end there is a robotic slave that lives

Where dreams are made and the your are free

Final retort

Fear of an answer

Is what keeps us guessing

Not demanding a question

After a history lesson

Life’s own mirror session


Rendering truth unknown

Eating a mouthful

To the future shown

Others have tried

Responses are gone

Today’s end is just a stone


20/03/2014 (final retort appears twice in this poem, once is the title…)

Religion Vs Science Or (Creation Vs Evolution) Jesus leave my three headed fish alone!

Religion has always fascinated me. Not because so many people practice it every day and believe (literally) every word, but because it has evolved tremendously over the years. What do I mean? Well if you take religion as a whole and look at the starting point of it (when more so than why) then you find that religion started as a means of getting people together. They shared stories together; they shared their system together and why because that made it easier to survive. At first primitive man looked at the sky and suddenly realized there are things there that he does not know. To clarify these things he set out to call deities into being. The Greek, the Egyptians and the gods the Romans adapted, have left us plenty of evidence of their gods (and temples, and statues and many more). But at some point these multitude of gods became something else. This most likely because we did not need gods anymore to explain everything, we started to learn things ourselves and gods to explain the sun, the moon, the starts, the plants, the animals etc were no longer needed. Instead believes went on to a one god system. This was set as one god for the Jews and Muslims, a three way like god in the form of the father the son and the Holy Ghost for the Christians, the Supreme Being for the Hindus. Buddhism is slightly different in the sense that there is no Supreme Being or god but rather an elevated state (nirvana) that one should reach.

Religion always starts as a way to help and guide your fellow man. Sometimes rules follow that make sense when put in perspectives other times rules were made which we lack the details of and so the context and the reasoning behind the custom are gone. For example the Muslims and Jews both have a tradition of preparing any food (except for foods that are again not allowed). This is for the Jews the procedure of kashrut (כשרות) and for the Muslims Halal (حلال). Here is an example: Both cultures are desert cultures where meat has a tendency to sit in the sun too long. If normal untreated meat is left in the sun it will rot in no time and cause all manner of problems for the people. So rules were made to handle meat prior to eating it. If it means removing most of the blood salting the meat etc. these are all steps taken so that no stomach will suffer. It is similarly a tradition to wash ones hands and so on and on. At first these were most likely not rules, but traditions and traditions slowly became rules when people forgot why they were doing them.

If we look at it historically then religion is the forerunner of science. It is exactly the same way if we look at the cause and effect approach that science and religion use. They adapt results observed into actions to minimize death and diseases. However, somewhere along the line religion became too powerful for its own good (which is what happens when power is associated with believes) and reason went out the window.

Let’s clear up one more little thing before tackling the whole creation Vs Evolution part. Jesus was Jewish and as all Jews on Friday evening he ate some bread (חלה) and drank some red wine. This is what he was doing during that famous meal.

But let’s move on to something else Creationism Vs Evolution. It is a very strange thing that creationism has become such a strong belief. It has very little going for it (except some people that like to shout) and it is strange that such a large populace believe in it. Especially considering that just next to them there is a group that has proven evolution to exist. In a simplified manner creationism believes the changes you see are based entirely on adaptation. They call the changes that occur are adaptation and not evolution. But then again they do believe in other aspects of science like medicine (which has in a way a lot more question marks then evolution does), engineering, technology and the whole rest of it.

Interestingly a lot of Christians do not believe in creationism at all and do not think that religion and science are at opposite ends. If we believe that religion is glue that binds certain people together then science is the glue that binds individual life together. So maybe the title is wrong and the view we have that we need to choose between science and religion is wrong and that the two should be combined. In a way if we look at physics and at the famous Higgs boson particle which if we use an analogy is the particle we can’t see but pushes all the particles around it. It is because of this that the particle has been nicknamed the God particle.

Maybe rather than argue, all different religious aspects can just intertwine with science, it sure would simplify things. But for that people would need to do one little thing that no seems capable of doing. That means talking things over in a normal manner and use ones head to think things through.

Images of night part III – In front of the firing squad

A desk with scribbles on it and my notebook, the schoolroom is filled with small desks and students. The teacher stands in front of the desk talking about numbers. The blackboard behind her is full of numbers and several letters. It all looks incomprehensible, I hate math.

I drift away and scribble some random drawings on my notebook. I get bored from drawing and move on to something else, the teacher is still talking about numbers or something. I notice my chair’s four legs are not even, one leg is longer then the other three and one leg is shorter, causing the chair to tip in an angle. I move back and forth creating a clicking noise. Anything to distract me from the boring lecture the teacher is giving. She now turned her attention to one of my fellow students, she is chewing him out about something, poor fool. I continue tipping my chair, its the only solace I have at the moment. 

“Whoever is doing that stop this instant!” screams the teacher.

I stop, and look around me to see if anyone has noticed me, I’m safe. I breathe a sigh of relief and try to focus on what the teacher is saying. It’s of no use, she has the most monotone voice and as soon as I hear her my mind drifts, the student she was chewing is back in his seat I must have missed it. To keep from falling asleep and doing anything that will attract to much attention I start rocking in the chair back and forth, I make sure that I am doing it without making any noise.

“Stop rocking this instant!” shouts the teacher and points her index finger at me.

With two of the chairs legs in the air I try to straighten up, causing the balance I had a moment ago to shift backwards. I fly with the chair backwards and land heavily on the floor. The whole class stares at me and laughs to the great annoyance of my teacher who I now notice has become red with rage. She points at me and screams for me to come to the front of the class, I obediently march forward and look at all the kids sitting at their desks in front of me. Some stare at me intently while others are looking outside with disinterence, and others are too occupied with writing to notice.

The teacher writes something on the blackboard behind me.

“Solve this!” she says

I look at the blackboard and see a large number multiplied with another large number. They seem blurred, they are slowly turn round and round, I realize I have no idea what the answer is. I see a lot of zeroes and I remember that zero stays zero when multiplied. So I start with one and another one and then add several zeroes. There are five zeroes in the first number and three in the second so I write the first five and then add another for good measure. I smile at the teacher in satisfaction she however does not return my smile.Her face is dripping with venom, her face is twisted in a strange form. I am frightened by her, she seems so alien. Her face is disturbing, as if it is somehow made from plastic or something, and it was put over her head. 

“Is this your answer?” she asks her voice dripping with contempt.

“Ehh… Yes?” I try to smile at her.

The teacher in front of me returns an evil smile “are you absolutely sure about that?” she asks her grin becoming larger, almost impossibly large. Her face is pulled wide, the skin nearly dripping away from her face.

“I think so” I respond, trying hard to fight the urge to run away.

“Well I am so very very sorry to say” she says with a big unnatural grin “that your answer is completely…” she stops and looks squarely at me “WRONG!” she screams her face completely contorted.

Her face then starts to change and her mouth increases in size. I cower in terror against the corner of the room, while my teacher is transforming into something resembling a monster. She sheds the human skin to the floor revealing large black scales and a thorny black skin covered in large pointy joints. Her head is black and her mouth is incredibly large. Instead of a nose she now has a large black shell like piece with one large hole in it. Her eyes are gone and instead 6 small holes take their place. She is now as large as the ceiling and her mouth opens wide. All the students in the classroom stare at me; no one is moving their all looking at me as though they are frozen.

“Help me!” I scream at them, but they don’t react. They are all stuck, like morbid statues staring at me.

The teacher’s mouth is opening even larger and she slowly descends to swallow me whole. I scream in fear and try to look for a way out, but there is none. She has cornered me and I can do nothing but scream as her large mouth comes towards me…


 He opens his eyes and gets up. His head is still spinning, from strange images he has seen. They quickly dissipate however and he forgets all about them. His throat is dry and he walks towards the kitchen to get a glass of water. He opens the cabinet door and takes out a glass. He turns the tap and fills the glass with cold water. He drinks it greedily and sets the empty glass in the sink. He walks back to bed and covers himself with the large blankets. He is comfortable, he turns to his side and slowly drifts back to sleep. 



School is an environment that I always found very disturbing. I never liked school and always assumed my teachers to be monsters in disguise. During one of those moments this story was born. I admit it is not a very original premise but I gave it my own little twist, and I think everyone can relate to the experience, making this a very accessible story.

The chair rocking part actually happened to me and I retained a scar on my chin from the experience. (2009)

History is in the eye of the beholder

We are taught that history is a fact and that what happened is what ultimately shapes us. We as humans are as much part of history as it is part of us. We base our culture on history, our hopes and dreams are based on history and it is history that guides us in a very fundamental manner. For example parents that survived through a certain horror will do everything in their power to save their children from that horror, this is logical and still this is history. History teaches us there was a horror and we learn from it, and make adjustments for the next generations.

However, history that is not directly related to us, is an interpretation of said history, and very much one sided. Next to that little fact we conveniently forget the history that adds shadows to our history, and makes us look much less of the self proclaimed heroes we naturally think we are.

There are many countries that conveniently forget aspects of their history. I’ll give you two examples of two European countries (and not a more obvious example) just to show how things change. France had a war with Algeria (back then it was a French colony that fought for its freedom) that started in 1954 and ended in 1962. Everyone that wants to can go through Wikipedia, or other source and look at the details of the war and what happened, what you may not know is that French children to this day know just about nothing about this war. It is not taught in schools and it is shoved aside for more (arguably) important aspects of French culture.

The second example involves Belgium. You may know Belgium as the country of the waffle or Belgium beer and good chocolate but there is a whole aspect that is never really mentioned. This aspect involves the atrocities afflicted by Belgium (under the rule of king Leopold the II) against Congo. This in some respects is similar to the Dutch who started slavery. In 1885-1908 King Leopold II acquired Congo (privately) and started exploiting it for its natural resources (rubber). He erected a force labour camp and used public brutality to deter the public fighting back, and get them to work. He used murder and mutilation as part of his methods to motivate the people and during his reign millions were killed. Finally in 1908 due to an international outcry against the brutality, Belgium stopped the force labour camp and annexed Congo as a colony (although it kept it as a colony until 1960 when it gained its freedom). Now do you think there were any penalties? Was there anything done to the Belgians? Or to the King? No, there was nothing done and the Belgians received no repercussions and would like nothing more than just forget this little piece of history which is what is happening now.

History is part of who we are, for better or worse it is what has led us to this point. Not just me but all of us. If we forget one little piece of it then how can we ever be sure it won’t happen again? History lessons are not to be forgotten or teach as suited to us, so that we emerge as the strongest, nicest or whatever. It is there so that the truth comes to light, and we learn that we like everyone else make mistakes. Making mistakes is human; not learning from them is stupid.

As children we are always taught the difference between right and wrong, and as we get older the boundaries of the two get blurred. We see more grey when at first we only saw black and white.  This is not because we don’t know the difference anymore; it is usually because we are confused, from the information being incomplete or because people are unnecessarily complicating things. I always see bureaucracy as the perfect example for that. Something that starts as a tool to help becomes an unnecessarily complicated machine that lacks any flexibility and is at the end a stupid struggle against the system. 

PhD, Dr? Its all the same isn’t it?

We live in a society that has a ludicrous undertone. It is a society where a PhD means nothing more then being allowed to add a few initials after your name, or a Dr title before it. What is interesting to me at least is the fact that everyone can be a Dr in whatever subject they chose. This makes no sense, as it implies that all Dr titles are equal and therefore the same. When nothing could be farther from the truth.

First let’s look at the studies. A medical Dr (MD) needs a minimum of 7 years of study and then a specialization to become a Dr. Which means at least 10-11 years as a minimum. Scientists need 5-6 years and then another 4 years for a PhD, making it similar to an MD. However, there is an incredible variety in the scientific research conducted. For example epidemiologists have a relative easy job during their PhD because all they need to do is collect data and then start correlating that data to different diseases, symptoms etc. This is a very easy way of getting publications which at the end is what scientists are judged by. If on the other hand your PhD is setting up a new model system (whether its using animals, cells, plants or bacteria) to study something specific, that has not been studied previously is said laboratory. Then you are looking at a much more complex and time consuming PhD, which will lead to less publications, because even if (and that’s a BIG IF!) you get it to work it will mean only one single publication.

So is every PhD the same? No It isn’t!

Does everyone get the same degree at the end? Yes they do!

Is that unfair? You bet!

What can we actually do about it? Well for now the only thing people do is distinguish the kind of PhD based on their subject group meaning history, literature, science etc. Next to that the only real way of knowing is looking at the papers that got published although those also will not tell you if that person did the work by himself or with others. It is a tricky business and one that is unfair but then again most of life is unfair…

Now comes the next question… You have your PhD what can you actually do with it?

Red Flow

The bags are full the mystery untold

Lungs are whole but the wings reformed

Embers of light where shadows lie

Cries at night reach out to the sky


If life could unfold a truth told

Breaking a rule out of truth’s hold

In all of the paintings color revoked

Music flows in a story for the world


Stars shine in a canvas of fire

The edge of time reaches higher

Borrowed story in a heart of a liar

Never to change into a red flower



Images of night pt II – The witch

The voices rush to me, they call for my help. I am in small brick house containing nothing personal, nothing to identify its owner or inhabitant… nothing to identify me.

I strain to remember what is going on. Slowly the memories come back to me they flood my mind and gradually a picture is formed. I know now what must be done; I know why the voices call for me. They call for something I alone can and must do; something that I have avoided for centuries has finally come to greet me.


When I was but a child my parents taught me the world had two layers. One layer was the physical one which had strict rules and laws that had to be obeyed. The more one understood that layer the more one could progress in it, and ultimately understand it. However, by doing this one would also distance oneself from the second layer, the metaphysical. Here no strict laws can induce understanding, but rather distinct minds are necessary to interact and ultimately manipulate the metaphysical layer. My parents were devoted to teaching me all they knew about the metaphysical layer and how it might be used in the physical layer we were occupying. By manipulating the metaphysical layer directly consequences could be ensued in the physical layer. They taught me all that they knew and with their teachings I have received their greatest gift of all. An inner fire that burned with a desire to know more than my parents, to overcome the flaws lurking in the edges of their teaching to reach new heights and become a master in ones own right. This was my ambition…

I left my parents when I was nearing my 12th cycle, and began my life long quest to continue to explore the teachings of my parents. I spend many years wondering the world trying desperately to find masters that could teach me more about the metaphysical layer. Gradually I understood the truth, that there were no others like me.

There were individuals that exhibited some generic forms of metaphysical manipulation however, they were seldom aware they were doing so and could offer no knowledge to me. These individuals, through mere saps from the metaphysical, could very briefly, and under great personal risk, see into time. Others could influence the properties of electrons and induce higher energy states which they’ve learned themselves under extreme circumstances. They did not know how or why they could do this, they merely learned as a form of intuition to condition their bodies (and the electrons there in) to induce electromagnetic fields. Not all I met could do this, others could induce kinetic fields while others yet could through touch induce local and under rare occasions systemic responses in the individuals they touched. To me these were children’s toys; I had learned these things when I was but an infant from my parents and assumed that there were others like me that had been taught at an early age. However, if there were I did not find them.

How could I then learn more? How could I surpass my parents? How could I become one with the universe?

My path had reached a dead end and I saw no way out. I could not see any way in which I could enrich myself. I felt sorry for myself. After seven sun sets had passed I have had enough. My mind was turning into a shallow and hollow reflection of what it used to be and my body was turning into a gluten rich bear ready for winter. In my despair I had let my body and mind deteriorate into the state they were now in. A wave of energy assailed me; I had not come all this way to give up. And so I set out anew this time not searching for a master but searching for a way to better my self.

I walked without stop for two sun sets and came face to face with the fruits of war. The gravel road I walked on was scarred and most of the bricks were broken. Dark black ash covered the bricks and a sharp smell of smoke was floating through the air. I continued on, following the broken brick road up a mountain where it abruptly ended. In front of me the smoldering remains of what I assumed to be buildings rose from the ground, a thick black ash surrounded everything and piles of shattered bricks were scattered everywhere. All plants and wild life were gone and apart from the smoke that was steadily rising from the remains nothing was visible. I ran down the mountain shouting for survivors to make a sound, stumbling and falling across the many uneven bricks that lay scattered I finally reached the ruins. The smoke burned my eyes and nose, and covering both of them with my scarf I continued to find my way through the destroyed city.

I saw bodies everywhere either buried under the rubble or burned beyond recognition. The worst still were the pieces I saw. Moving pieces of rock in an effort to find anyone alive I would on occasion find burned limbs, the stench of which haunts me to this day. I could not understand what the purpose of the destruction I saw was. How could war ever justify the destruction I witnessed?

After what seemed like forever I gave up. I was alone searching for some sign of life where obviously there was nothing but death. I got up from where I was digging and walked on north. I was surprised to notice it had turned dark. I continued walking on all throughout the night, hoping to keep the scene of destruction behind me. However, the destruction seemed to go on for ever and it was only after I had walked for 3 more sun sets that I had reached the last of the burning city. It was there, just outside what I thought of as the city border line, where I made camp. I hadn’t slept in 5 sun sets and I was becoming delusional, dizzy and reckless. I had to sleep.

During the night I was startled awake following a noise I heard. I was so used to the quiet lifelessness of the last sun sets that this quiet noise was enough to render me completely awake. I quickly got to my feet and strained to hear where the noise was coming from. I followed it back in to the city, seeking its origin. In a small craven surrounded with rubble I heard something that sounded like weeping. I called out to it. The weeping stopped immediately, I tried coaxing it to come out but it had the opposite effect. I stared at the opening which was surrounded by three large stones that collapsed there; they were leaning on to one another in angels that seemed very unstable. I crawled into the small cavern, continually uttering calming words, to try and sooth however was in it. In the corner huddling his knees to him was a small child. I beckoned the child to me, but he or she was too afraid to come near me. Dust or sand was falling from the ceiling of the unnatural cavern towards the floor. We had to leave this place as quickly as possible; the child however was far too frightened to do anything. A loud creak echoed from above us and the three large blocks forming the cavern were breaking down. I had no time to get out of the cavern, so I closed my eyes and opened a fissure to the other realm, letting just a small amount of energy to come out.

Energy from the metaphysical has to be cultured immediately into something or it will become an immense heat that will ultimately fade into the atmosphere. I cultured the energy around to me and raised one of my hands up, I then released the energy in a pulse shooting upwards to the sky. All the rocks around us flew upwards, then sideways and eventually landed in a large crash around us, leaving me and the child unharmed.

The child was staring at me; all trace of fear was gone from his face and was replaced with amazement. It was then that I noticed it was a girl. I picked her up and together we left the scene of devastation behind us. 

I continued my journey with the child with me. I decided to take her to be my apprentice. She was still young and her mind was still open, nothing was rooted to law and although she had seen many horrors she could still be taught about the world beyond. It took a long time for her to leave the horrors behind her, and I know now that she never really did. Back then I noticed nothing of what was to come. She was bright and understood quickly, she was like a sponge drawing in all knowledge I could bestow upon her and using it almost immediately. She grew up quickly and I came to think of her as my own, one day however changed all that.

Our journey had led us to a new place. A large towered city surrounded by a large wall. We arrived at one of the gates and I asked if I could enter. The guards discussed this at length and eventually permitted me to enter with my child. She was now a teenager, and constantly asking questions. This was no different; as we were waiting she asked me why I waited, I could have easily used the metaphysical to enter if I pleased. I tried as best I could to teach her that one could not use the metaphysical to solve every problem. By solving one problem using our knowledge others undoubtedly would be direct created as direct consequences. Furthermore, by using the metaphysical only on rare occasions we would not be subject to the side-effects.

I thought that would end the matter. I was wrong it was the start of where we grew apart. She looked at me as I said this with disdain. You fear the metaphysical she asked. I looked her straight in the eyes and said you would be very wise to fear it. If you lack fear you will come to harm from it. She did not answer but did not look convinced.

We entered the city and stayed at a small inn. That day I decided to stop our practical teachings and focus on the philosophical teachings. This did not go well. It was the first time I have ever seen her angry. I tried to discern the reason for her anger but accept for spiteful words she said nothing. That night she went to bed with no supper, as part of her punishment.

In the morning she was gone. She took some cloth and left without a word. Her room was empty, her bed messy and her other belongings left behind. I spend the entire day searching for her asking anyone if they had seen her, but alas no one had. That night I ended up in a small inn where I drank to my hearts desire. I thought forgiveness in the drink, forgiveness for what I do not know all I wanted was for her to come back. Maybe I did something wrong, maybe I was too harsh.

I continued to dwell in self pity until my ear had caught a conversation between two guards. They were arguing loudly about a girl that passed their gate that afternoon. The guard blocked her path and told her she was not allowed to leave the city without a chaperone. The guard did not understand what happened then but he was suddenly launched several feet into the air and came crashing down. The girl had by then disappeared. I quickly ran towards the inn I stayed in and packed my things. I rushed out of town and followed the path that the child has taken, my child, my little girl.

She had a large lead over me and I had not caught up to her that night. I followed her trail until my fatigue got the better of me and I had to stop to rest. I resumed my search in the early hours of the morning which led me to a small town. Several structures were destroyed, and remains of energy were still being evaporated into the air. She was here and for some reason she had destroyed parts of this city.

Two people stopped me from entering. I told them I might be able to help if anyone was hurt. They refused my help and told me that the damage was caused by a girl that passed through the town. She stole some food from the market and when the merchant stopped her the whole market was suddenly burned to a crisp. When the girl tried to leave the city several guards tried to detain her. They were all severely hurt. 

I left the city and tried to find out where she had gone to, but I could find nothing. No clue, no evidence where she had gone to and so the most tedious and lonesome part of my journey began going from one city to the next searching for a trace of her. Each city she passed through was either in turmoil or destroyed.

Years passed and I was no closer in finding her. The cities that had heard of her recoiled in fear, other cities were reduced to rubble. She was becoming more and more ferocious, spinning more and more out of control. The only pattern I could see in her behavior was in the destruction I witnessed in the cities I passed through, a destruction pattern that had become more extensive. She was causing increasingly more damage and most likely grew more unstable.

It took me four more years of endless searching to find her. She was in a big town, where she was feared and lived like a queen. She was a lot bigger then what I remembered, and I nearly did not recognize her, were it not for the large amount of energy she radiated from her body. She was all grown up, arrogant and cold hearted. She was given everything she wanted from the people in exchange to the eminent destruction she promised.

When she saw me, she laughed. And without a second word she opened a gateway to the metaphysical layer and threw a large ball of fire at me. I quickly took a very small amount of energy from the ball itself and send it flying into the air.

She opened a larger gateway and a surge of energy was released. She sent a fire wave at me, which would have burned the skin from my bones. However, the gateway she opened was too big and the energy she had used was just a small part of what came from it the rest of the energy that remained unutilized was immediately converted to a surge of heat which burned her instantly. With her gone, the control over the energy she was using dissipated and the energy was converted to heat. I quickly used a small amount of energy and used it to lift the brick way up in front of the heat wave. The heat wave quickly dissipated into the air. My journey was at an end; my daughter was dead and emotionally so was I.

I stayed in that city for many more years, until the day I learned of someone else being able to open a gate to the metaphysical layer. The rumors started about 15 years after I had killed my daughter. A teenage girl was threatened by a merchant and that merchant ended with several broken limbs. That was the first one; the second involved a landlord that got burned to death. Several witnesses claimed they saw him arguing with a girl just before he died.

Today I have to face her, just like I faced her mother before her. The town’s people have come to get me. I walk towards the meeting place, a large wave of energy surrounds me, I look up and there she is flying through the air, her face a replica of her mother’s.

I close my eyes and create a barrier around me. I look at her and fly up to meet her.

She looks at me and very carefully asks if I killed her mother.

I reply that I did that she did not leave any choice in the matter and that she was like a daughter to me.

She laughs and lifts her arms, two people from the crowd below us fly up. She looks at me they are all worthless she says and the two people fall to their deaths.

I scream for her to stop but she just carries on laughing and I realize she is crazy, not calculated and ruthless like her mother before her and for the first time I am not sure I can win. A rain of ice hits me and I lose my balance. The shield protects me from the ice but the people beneath me are getting hurt. I try to extend the shield as much as I can to provide cover for the people. At that moment she hits me directly with a gust of wind and I lose my balance. I fall down the building racing upwards to meet me…


He tumbles from the bed and hits the carpeted floor. He curses and gets back up and into his bed, rubbing against his thighs which hit the carpet first. He fluffs his pillow and tries to get back to sleep.


When I was younger I always had dreams that I could fly and after I told that to several people I realized that almost everyone dreams of flying at one point or other in their life. This manifested itself in one of my dreams, from which this story grew. After spending a lot of time scuba-diving the flying dreams slowly dissipated, and now I never dream of flying anymore.