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lack of ideas

long time ago I was able to text stories and just so shake off the cuff. Now I have no idea more for a new story. Thus the old writer sits at his blank sheet of paper. Various thoughts he has already brought some extent on the paper. But then again rejected and discarded. The ideas were good for nothing, they were lifeless and without wealth. In short, to not use. As he sat there, dormant, and before him, the thoughts in his mind I can draw. He does not want any more thoughts come to mind, which would be suitable for a story. It is already late, he looks around his office, the candle light dances on the walls. And out of the shadow of his books Death occurs slowly toward him. "So my good old writer. Your ideas are over, your time has expired. "Whispered the death. "Oh." Said the writer as "You're right, I should no longer among the living. But among the dead I will not change. "

So the writer. "Where do you want to be otherwise? You despise the death as life. "" I have seen many things in my life, learn a lot. And when I send white, then it is that life is no different than death on earth. I will still have an end, not linger and resting in thy kingdom. "" My kingdom is the end of days. So you come now? "" No I'm not going soft I'll go. You shall give me my end. Not only shift my life from one place to another. "" If so, then you should stay. should remain until death overtake you. Until that you will beg for it. "With these words, dark dungeon of death, the space of the writer.

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Valentine

Again, it is as far as each February is the Valentine's Day is here. I left but not by that date . Confused Like every other day I went early in the morning from the house to work. A small smile crossed my face, it certainly was not like every day. A little buzz in my pocket announced me on the train that I had received a text message. I pulled out the phone, looked at the screen. A message to my girlfriend. "Good morning my heart. I wish you a very beautiful and joyful day. Unfortunately I can not meet with you today, I'm sick and should not leave the house. Kiss your sweetheart, "I smiled but did not the same as today was something special. I was only answer, as always. "Good Morning. I wish you a speedy recovery, then perhaps we will see tomorrow. Kiss. "I do not know if it is delayed, I stand still, but I do not think so. At noon I sign most certainly always have on such special days what to do with feelings. Today is not. Then I received the news of her, "Hey bear, why do not you report yourself? I'm doing something better, you know what today is a day? "

because I was rock hard times. "I like to listen to, why should I report me? Nothing happened shattering. And my Knowledge, there should be the 14th be February. Why?

From then on, I heard nothing more from my girlfriend. I finished my current work today a little earlier than usual. Of course I knew myself that today is the day of love. Like any man, I took the road into a flower shop. Once there waiting for me the nice florist already. A large bouquet of roses with white and red flowers in it. The flower girl was still very young and fresh, from the teachings of my assessment. Her eyes fell envious if not wistfully at the flowers because I could not help and she had a white rose given as a farewell. At this gift she was pleased obviously enormous, for radiated her tired eyes as I handed her the flower of the emotions. This was followed briefly by a candle shop, where I got my ordered candle, which had a shape of a heart from. But not just as one can imagine it now, no, the heart looks as if it were molded from flowers. So now armed with gifts and flowers, I took the Intercity train from Zurich. Not the S-Bahn. Because that is usually very crowded at this time, and if my flowers had arrived safely this I do not know.

It was dark when I finally stood before the house of my girlfriend. Somewhat excited I was when I pressed the bell. I heard creaking doors, jangling keys and then the click of a lock. The door opened and my girlfriend was in the trainer and somewhat disheveled hair before me. Her expression told me everything. With me, they seemed to have the least expected today evening. It seemed frozen in a state of shock. But slowly began to thaw and the face to be fueled with new energy. About the flowers she liked, of course, immense, what woman does not. But even more she was happy about the visit I She did. This helped us today, but still close in my arms. When she then learned that her mother knew of my plan, and I for the first time the award was for her daughter to return, she was beside herself. With so much luck they could have expected any more. But love is sometimes containing complicated and confused ways.

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Hobbies

One of the most common questions is certainly the one to the hobby. In every chat forum or contact page everywhere asked for the hobby. I can, fortunately, are among the lucky people who which have a hobby. I swim, dive and score films. My first two are sporting a challenge and require frequent training in the latter act is a collector's activity. I try to have some directors and actors all the movies, or to get hold of old and valuable films. For this reason, you meet me often at flea markets or film exchanges. That would be it to my hobbies.
Common answers are but then music, listening to music, friends, meet friends or output. Honestly, those are not hobbies. These are natural social and asocial Actions of a man, you could say the basic needs. No one can live without music, is hard, you will also sprinkled it everywhere, on the bus, department store and in the lift. I myself am rarely, if ever, without an iPod and headphones from the house. Especially in the morning it's just almost too good when you can listen to his music and let the outside world outside his world, yes I am sometimes form in the morning. But for this reason, music, or listening to music is not just a hobby of mine. Or collecting all these people CDs and records, which would have a certain sense, and I would fully support. But this People are interested in very rare in music history, or really at home a real collection. usually they only hear them, and have 450 songs on iTunes.
friends, how this can be a hobby if you please? I also have some, but to me it would never call for sense of this as a hobby, and even somehow nonsense. They collect can not be friends, but possess as everyone else. Ev. Gather your friends on Facebook, perhaps you can do so under "friends" talk. I think not. So another natural human phenomenon which is to serve as a hobby. Just take the friends I meet my friends too, would do I did not, would he not my friend, but a well-known, or known from her view. Since my 17th birthday
I'm unsure on weekend evenings the city. Those who do not, many teenagers and young people like to go and often in the evening in the main, be it in a bar or a club. With the aging changes are usually only the location, they meet in the theater or the opera rather less in a club, but the bar can still be. So another human behavior, which is make friends with reef related.
Hey people do you write as a hobby on human behavior, either good people you have not understood the meaning of the word, it does not mean what we often making is a hobby, the showers and the like would otherwise be a hobby and this is never mentioned. Or did you just do not hobbies? Are you hobbylos? That would explain everything. You have no hobbies so its something to write what you do often, even if it is human normal and everyone does. And it still sounds to hobby because it is the other many other people write lots of hobbies, it's hardly noticeable that you have no hobbies.

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fire alarm!

As some of you know Mr. XY is working at the ETH. More specifically, in the library of the ETH in Zurich. As the above-mentioned gentleman, while the doctrine had to take an internship in the main building, it was clear that he was beginning a tour with explanation. It was then that he was led through the long corridors of the building. On an ominous white door leading into the large Kompaktus systems at the ETH, he realized, as smart as he was about was that in order to open this door, the red light of the fire alarm on green , n had to be switched. With this knowledge, he was dismissed in the big building so he could pursue his work.

course, he had also once through that door. And that alone. The door was closed and the safety button glowed red as you get that green? In short, the Lord pressed it, and so this changed the color, but also a loud alarm signal rang through the corridors. It was clear that the students who wanted to learn to be disturbed at this noise. Thus the Lord vanished from the perspective of students and sought a new way out of the long corridors of Kompaktus plants. He walked once around the entire building until it forms a new road was outside. There he saw how the library staff was trying to switch off the alarm, as this, the students still did not like. The alarm has been corrected in the next 10 minutes and Mr XY was now but even with that you could open the door with a key.

A few days later at this door, our Lord understood now open, the computer was to swing. He told the Lord that the alarm was finally gone off for no reason and no one knows why. The Lord thought short, and unfortunately had to tell that he did not know even what the error was. But that this should not be in a fire alarm, and you have to have a look that this does not happen again. With these words, recite the Lord this ominous door.

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The pianist

last few days there with us in the city a new bar, The Devil club. Previously there was some night club or something similar. Then graced a construction site of the old house. But now as the red letters, which appear to be in flames: the devil Club. But this is hardly even go the rumors about, that once you go in there was never again will. Somehow not quite understand. But the effect of these rumors was that each one had to go in there. So also I went with a few colleagues on a Saturday evening in the bar

The first impression when it comes into something is clouded and it stinks of cigarettes. The reddish light which seemed only dimly gave a special atmosphere in the room, which had similarities with a medieval tavern. In one corner, stretched around the bar were dancing in which two girls with only light clothing on it. But not like in a nightclub, somehow with more style and more dignity. In the other was a piano. This was illuminated with yellow-red light. An elderly man, who by the way looked good, played on the piano. The song was similar to Rock n Roll.

"Ding Dong" hit a big old wall clock and then announced to the midnight hour. As the man began on piano with a cold and gloomy music. Animated all to the rhythm moving. The song was about closed door of an old bar, which was for ages, but always changed the location. Since noticed a woman who probably wanted to home, the doors were locked. Then began the bar on fire, and flames shot out of the doors. The song was played on the same pace. Now, by a piano player that the bar was talking about. This has never been respected, he swore revenge on all who were in his bar until midnight, but charges are not with him. As I looked back to the man who wanted to smile at him, as I grinned a skull in a sneer. The keys have been played by more bony fingers. The hat which he had concealed on his head a little. Then came the singing of the dancers, which slowly discolored red. The black hair and black wings grew from his back. They are the helpers of the piano player. They rose slowly from the bar and slowly began to strangle individual guests. The dead fell to ashes before they hit the ground. But the piano player noticed this screaming and asking for help not a little bit, he ignored the whole thing. I was scared when the two came to me now. I thought now it's me in the neck. But no, I even had a piano player issued a drink for the beautiful song he had played. So I escaped the deadly arms of the dancers. But when I tell this story, who would they believe me? No one. Why should he? I ask only those who which also may want to tell their story should spend the piano player always a drink. Otherwise it will disappear and the bar, which after a week was no longer there. And no one could remember its existence.

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The shooting star

It is a warm summer night. I'm lying in the grass in the mountains. It is a wonderful place. hear the crickets chirping you in the nearby meadows. In the nearby woods and listens to scream an owl. So that I lie on my back. Above me, they reveal a black sky. The stars twinkle like diamonds on a black silk blanket. The

Silence in these mountains is wonderful. Suddenly I see shooting stars streak across the sky. Rather, they fall to the ground. It is the fallen star. As I gently touched a light and enemies of woman's hand.

I had forgotten to say that I am not alone on this area, my fiancee is with me on it. I still remember how they laughed at me after we had been separated for several years. It was a rainy summer day. She had a friend, and little interest in me something to talk about their lives. But a few weeks later, it was the end of August, as we had arranged to meet us again. We went walking together, and told much new out of our lives, but old memories were again reopened. In the evening we were on a field and looked at the stars, as well as now. I told her the story of the fallen ones which are mirrored by the shooting stars again. A shooting star is a love that is forever gone in fractures. In this story, she looked at me and held my hand. "Our love is no shooting star has become." With these words she bent over me and kissed my mouth. I held her head and told on. The comet may, however, in no case with a shooting star be confused, because they always crosses the sky, when a great love is born and comes to an end. But not in fractures, it is over because she died for reasons of age.

crosses now at this very moment a comet to heaven. My fiancee and I firmly suppressed whispers in my ear like in those days: "This is our comet." She has not forgotten that is, the history. But who would have thought that our love which now resembled more of a shooting star but it was a comet? She put her head on her stomach and looked again into the night sky. I slowly stroked her hair. A tear rolled me on the cheek.

Tomorrow we will get married in a beautiful mountain church. I never thought that I would regain my love.

But perhaps all a dream, who knows that for sure? But if it is to be one that I will die with the dream and wake up again. This will be my reality.