Political Nightmare [en]

[fr] Récit de cauchemar.

A dream.

In a few hours from now, they are going to come and make our heads roll. The new government of New York City, with which we have worked for many months to ease the transition, is officially going to step into power — and we, as the old city government, have to disappear.

I don’t want to die! I knew nothing of this when I joined the task force. I’m not even an American citizen! When they say a career in politics is brief but glorious, how was I to know it would be so literal?

President Obama is here, fondly recounting his memories of making the heads of his previous local government roll. There is obviously something very important about the heads rolling well once they have been cut off.

I protest, my voice calls out in despair “I’m a Swiss citizen! I shouldn’t even be here!” but nobody seems to hear, nobody seems to perceive my anguish, and everything just goes on.

It does occur to me that Obama is still alive, but I’m not sure what to make of it.

They have paraded us through the city, half-drugged, half in a daze. I hope beyond hope that some miracle is going to save me, but everything seems perfectly orchestrated to lead me to my demise.

This is a nightmare. Literally.

I want to wake up.

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Small Black Flies [en]

Small black flies invaded the office, before taking over the whole city. It got so bad you had to wear a mask to avoid breathing them in. They formed a fine black film over everything, including your skin.

People went mad.

One day, all the flies died. It was over.

This is a 50-word short story. Read more by me on CTTS or by others too on Facebook.

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Inner Swamp [en]

Lucy hasn’t been tending her inner swamp lately. It’s starting to overflow, dripping from her eyes and ears. She knows the swamp monster is feeding on the gloom and growing each day.

With Patrick, she sets off on an inner journey to kill the beast.

They prevail, but remain forever joined.

This is a 50-word short story. Read more by me on CTTS or by others too on Facebook.

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Ville de brume [fr]

Le brouillard est en train de tomber. Vite, avant que la ville ne change complètement. C’est embêtant, ces bâtiments qui se déplacent en cachette.

Cette fois, il me faudra deux jours pour retrouver ma maison parmi les rues sauvages de ma ville de brume. Je crois que je vais déménager.

Ceci est une mini-nouvelle en 50 mots. Lisez-en d’autres de moi sur CTTSousur Facebook, par d’autres que moi.

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Sandy's clothes insisted on moving around [en]

Sandy’s clothes insisted on moving around in her cupboard. Nobody believed her. She even put cameras in her bedroom to prove that she wasn’t sleepwalking.

She fell in love with John, whose clothes misbehaved similarly.

The clothes were enchanted by their cupboards. The young couple learned to harness their magic.

This is a 50-word short story. Read more by me on CTTS or by others too on Facebook.

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Bagha's Story, First Part, First Draft [en]

[fr] Ma grand-mère m'a dit plusieurs fois que je devrais écrire un livre pour enfants basé sur l'histoire de vie de Bagha. Cet été, j'ai enfin commencé à écrire. C'est incomplet et c'est surtout un point de départ, mais je le publie ici pour que vous puissiez déjà le lire!

My grandma has told me many times that I should make a children’s book out of Bagha‘s life-story. Sometime this summer, I actually started writing. I’ve not told the end of the story yet (maybe there is more than one book to write?) and it’s a very rough first draft, but I thought I might as well publish it here for you to check out. Feedback is welcome, as well as leads to interested illustrators!

The adventures of Bagha Byne the lucky Indian cat

Once upon a time, far far away in India, there lived a little kitten.
He was tabby and white, like a little tiger.

He was still very small, so he lived with his mother and brother on
the balcony of an abandoned house in the astrophysics campus. He
didn’t have a name yet.

One day, a tall lady caught the little kitten and took it into her
home. He was very frightened, so he hissed and spat and made his fur
stand on end.

But the lady gave him warm milk in a bottle and petted him gently.
“This is a nice lady,” he thought.

Day after day, she fed him milk and took care of him. Soon he forgot
about his mother and brother and was very happy with the lady. The
lady had a husband and a three-legged dog.

They called him Bagha.

Bagha quickly grew up to be a strong healthy young cat. He hunted
geckos and mice. He got into fights with the older tomcats living
around the house, and chased away the other young cats who tried to
settle down too near.

One day, Bagha got into a big fight with his dad, who was a fierce
tomcat. They fought and fought on the balcony. All of a sudden, Bagha
took a big whack on the nose and fell from the balcony! The lady saw
him and was very frightened. His nose was bleeding a lot. She put
Bagha in a box and took him for a noisy ride across town to see the
vet. Luckily, he wasn’t hurt very badly, and his nose had almost
stopped bleeding by the time they arrived. He did keep a bumpy rib and
bent nose for the rest of his life after the fight, though.

When Bagha was about one year old, the lady had a baby. Bagha too had
had children, and he shared the big house with his daughter, who
looked just like him. She liked hiding in the gutters and sleeping on
top of the mosquito nets. Bagha liked sleeping next to the baby or
behind somebody’s knees.

Bagha was a very happy pampered cat. He could go wherever he pleased,
had a nice cosy home full of silk saris he could sleep on, friendly
humans to pet him and rub his belly, and minced beef for supper.

When the baby was one year old, the family grew bigger again: another
tall lady came to live in the house. She liked Bagha a lot. Though the
first tall lady took care of Bagha well, she was now very busy with
the baby. Bagha’s daughter had disappeared and the lady’s husband had
gone to England for a few months. So, Bagha was very happy to have
another human to fuss over him and quite soon, he started sleeping on
the new lady’s bed every night.

Many months later, the new lady came back home with a rather large
wicker basket. The basket had a lid. The baby played with it and hid
inside. The lady started preparing big boxes and emptying the room she
and Bagha slept in.

Then one morning, she put Bagha into the wicker basket and they got
into a big Jeep with all her things. They drove for hours and hours
until they reached the big city. Bagha was hot and a bit worried, but
the lady was with him and kept him company. In the big city, he was
allowed out of the basket, but he was so tired and hot that he just
lay down in the bedroom until it was time to leave again.

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Love [en]

A couple, mid-thirties, obviously love-struck.

– So, where’s the catch? She asks.
– There isn’t one, darling.
– Oh no, there always is: attraction comes with a special variety of hell built-in.

Hand in hand, they make it to hell and back many times, love twinkling in their eyes to the very end.

This is a 50-word short story. Read more by me on CTTS or by others too on Facebook.

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Here and there, people start discovering strangers [en]

Here and there, people start discovering complete strangers who seem to be their identical twins. As the media start reporting these findings, a few pairs set out to track their origins and uncover the top-secret military experiment that is behind their mysterious births. They were cloned, and are deadly weapons.

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They are five [en]

They are five. Five strangers who discover they are all born of frozen ova donated by one woman. She carried a mutation that will change the face of humanity.
They learn to join their minds, and discover others like them.

They multiply.

She tracks down her children to kill them.

This is a 50-word short story. Read more by me on CTTS or by others too on Facebook.

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"I've got it," said Paul [en]

“I’ve got it,” said Paul.
The look on his face turned from triumph to horror as he watched the weapon he had retrieved from the abandoned craft weld itself to his hand and start shooting towards us.

“I can’t make it stop! Help!”

We ran for cover and killed Paul.

This is a 50-word short story. Read more by me on CTTS or by others too on Facebook.

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