This was something i wrote on a short train ride from Ljubljana to Zagreb using my impressions and information from my short visit to the beautiful city of Ljubljana:
The Girl from the Bar.
The fog falls down on the city of Ljubljana like a blanket every night. The streets look eerie and mysterious. The only sound is our hero staggering on the cobbles towards the centre, his mind floating in a comfortable haze. He is a traveller, mere visitor to the city, on his way to his lodgings. Or so he thought. If there was an observer he would see a guy with a strong build, not really athletic, like a boxer in 1920’s. A George Foreman in his BBQ years. A swish in the air above his head makes our hero to look up and the street lamp illuminates his face for few seconds. He catches a glimpse of a shadow, a huge shadow, which disappears again in the direction he was heading. Continue reading The Girl from Ljubljana
Creative Ink writing prompt here
At midnight and at noon from the depths of the lake he comes forth, right when the reality weakens, his strength peaks. He comes out of the water dry, but somehow there is always a puddle under him. Sitting in a willow tree, smoking a pipe or playing a fiddle, he watches and lurks his victims in the water. He waits for an inexperienced swimmer to be careless but many times he helps things ever so slightly. Little push or little pull is all it takes. Sometimes just a whisper. He commands the creatures of the lake, often taking their form to fool the humans, but he has only little control of the water. Nobody can control the elements. Other times he places things in the water to make the curious girl lean over and after the shove, comes the splash. Oh…How he enjoys the Splash. He hates the lake and he loves it in equal measures, the absurdity of it drives him crazy.
Continue reading Writing Prompt: Vodník
Creative Writing Ink – writing prompt http://creativewriting.ie/writing-prompts/
The gunslinger stopped and listened. He thought he heard a scream but must have been only in his head. He was on the edge and he desperately needed a drink. He looked around and thought how familiar this abandoned town appeared to him. But most of the towns look alike. He shuddered and resumed his slow pace down the row of empty buildings towards the silent church in the distance. The air smelled of rotten wood and oddly also of freshly cut grass. There was no wind, not even a breeze. The town was abandoned in a hurry by the looks of it probably some years ago, but he still felt he was being watched. Continue reading Ghost Town