How to get rid of Deedee?

Deedee glanced around the table. “Why is everyone trying to get rid of me?”

“What do you think?” Her brother’s voice sounded the same as that of her late father. A man who never wanted a daughter and did everything to convince her that she was despised. Unwanted and alive only by his grace. For his ‘goodness’ she should have shown her gratitude in every conceivable way. Again and again and again. Every minute of the day she fought to forget him. What happened that changed her brother so suddenly? In spite of her father, she had always loved the boy, defended him and taken the blows for his rash behaviour.
The others did not say a word. It was not that they were ignoring her, but the anxiety was palpable. The air was permeated with fear.

Her mother didn’t look up when she looked at her questioningly and bravely tried to ignore her angry brother.
“Mother, please tell me what is going on?” She grabbed her mother’s hand and had no intention of letting go until she had an answer.
The rest of the family remained silent.
This was exactly how it had always been when he was alive, she thought, as a cold shiver ran down her spine.
“Mother,” she whispered, “why does everyone always want to get rid of me? What have I done to deserve this? Haven’t I always been there for you?”
For a moment she thought her mother would look at her, lifted her head to answer. At the same moment, her brother grabbed her in her neck and dragged her from the table.
“I won’t say it again. Pack your bags and leave! You are no longer welcome here.”

“Max, don’t go out there!” roared my brother from downstairs.

Why my mother kept silent, kept silent again, escaped me. What had I done wrong? My head was spinning with questions, unanswered questions. I still felt my brother’s fingers squeezing my neck when he threw me out into the corridor and slammed the door. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard my brother roaring from the dining room. He had been clear. I was no longer welcome in my mother’s house, my home in which he was suddenly in charge and dominated mother. Did I still feel something for her? How long had it been since she had hugged me, kissed me or said something friendly? I stood indecisively in front of the wardrobe. I did not know where to go and one thing was certain: I could never take all my belongings with me.

I hadn’t even heard my room door open but suddenly Max stood next to me.
“Deedee, you can come and live with me for as long as you like. Let me help you.
She put a duffel bag in my hand. This is for your clothes, pack everything you love in your suitcase. We have to hurry, you know how he is.”
“What happened? What did I do?”
“Later,” Max said, as she hurriedly emptied my dressing table and threw my old teddy bear into the suitcase. “Not everyone wants to get rid of you don’t think that. I know what you did.”
I stared at her and saw how she bit her lip as a tear slid down her cheek.
“Quick, get your clothes, which books do you want to take? You know that if we leave here, neither of us will be welcome here ever again.”
“Did mother say that?”
“No, you know she never says anything. Not then, not now.”
“Max? Did you say something to him?”
She shook her head violently. “You are my sister, I would never do such a thing. Ready?”
“Just my shoes, coat and…”
I lifted my mattress to get the file I had put underneath it. It was gone. Startled, I stared at the slatted floor. With the disappearance of the dossier, all my hope vanished at once. Who would believe me now?

“We have to go now,” Max whispered. She sounded nervous and it was clear that she did not want to wait any longer.
“It’s gone,” I whispered, “how can it be gone?” Fierce I pulled the sheets off the bed and tipped the mattress over against the wall.
“Come on,” begged Max as she dragged the duffel bag and suitcase to the door, “it’ll be all right I told you I know what happened.”
I had great difficulty in holding back the tears of frustration but I had to. I would take my last steps in this house with my head held high, except for Max, I had no family left.

“It’s not far,” Max said and I followed her without answering while lugging the duffel bag along, “the car is parked a bit further. Her eyes narrowed.
Sun in the eyes, even as a toddler she had not been able to stand it.
“Here.” I handed her the sunglasses I kept in my coat’s pocket. She smiled gratefully and gestured to a man, unknown to me, who was waiting by a van.

“Don’t worry, it will be all right. He thinks he knows everything but without this, he has no proof.”
She opened her coat a little and tapped at my file hidden under it. “I saw him reading it after I left the dining room I grabbed it from his desk.”
“Where are we going,” I liked to know.
“Home, a new home. He doesn’t know I keep this one. You’ll be safe and if you want I’ll help you look for the child he took from you.”
I swallowed and thought of the lost time, of all the years I had spent twisting and turning to be liked. I had done my utmost. Mother had ignored what happened. What he had done to her to me until he came for Max and took the child from me.

“Mother knew,” I said and there was nothing more to say. Mother knew and had realized what was coming. In a house where a crime was committed every day, a new criminal is born easier. What Max didn’t know was that the child, my child born out of crime, was no longer alive. He had thrown it to the pigs with the words “another useless girl”. He had not noticed how I grabbed the axe and hit. I split his skull from behind with the axe mother hid  afterwards. Mother had done nothing to prevent it, never prevented anything. To my brother, I would always be the rapist and murderer of our ‘poor’ dad. A father who deserved better than a bunch of ungrateful daughters.

The three pigs – A pig tale

“Off you go”, she said
holding the door wide open right after the three came out of bed.
It was high time to stand on own feet
enough was enough.
“Can I have breakfast first”, Fatso peeked at the dough.
It was not a bread yet but he could wait like he usually did.
He wasn’t the type to rush into something new and tried to sit
down but he hadn’t counted with his mother’s firm paw
she kicked his ass and outside he landed with a huge bow
in front of the gate.
“We better leave mate.”
His brothers weren’t that stupid and did understand
there was no room left and on the other hand
it was great to finally see the world,
build a life without any adult
telling them how or what needs to be done.
The world looked great and even the sun shone.

They walked together and followed the path
while searching for food and gathering what
looked handy to build a home of their own.

Fatso is not the fittest of those three
’cause his main problem is he’s as lazy as one can be.
After a walk of only two times a quarter, his motivation was extremely low.
He announced he wouldn’t set a single step instead make himself a hut out of straw.
There was plenty of it,
way more than he needed.
His siblings frowned but it was fine with them.
There’s no need to argue about what’s good or bad,
since none of them was familiar with life’s issues, mom had always handled that.

After a walk of two times an hour, perhaps a bit further,
the second brother said he could commit a murder
for a place of his own including a mud pool.
He would start working on it right away since the weather was nice and it was a perfect day.
“This spot is great and I can’t wait to enjoy my own home.”
As he turned around to look at his brother the eldest was gone.

“I would love to be a nomad”, Senior thought I don’t care about wandering alone
but still, I could build a place of my own.
Just for those days, I might like to rest,
want to relax, or will have a guest.
He truly loved the familiar scenery
but with different folk was he wanted to be.
That’s why he followed a new route.
Life was great, adventure ahead, he felt so good.
Strong enough to climb a mountain but why not start with a hill?
“You can’t have everything but what counts is the will
to succeed”, he snorted pleasantly
“Let’s see…”
A cottage out of stone arose.
Although it wasn’t his first choice,
it was good enough to build him a home.
A place in case of need which he could call his own.
“Something like this I could never build in a day,
not even a week. I can honestly say
the one who made it did a great job.”
Since a nap at times doesn’t harm a hog
he decided to enter after he did easily unlock
the door. “Home sweet home”
he grunted but… he wasn’t alone.

The shack’s owner wasn’t content with the intruder who locked him out.
He jumped high, climbed on the roof since he was very proud
of the cosy hut, he built over time.
“Let me in”, he roared, ” this cottage is mine.
You thief!
I assure you if you don’t leave…”

“Get away you loser” the swine groaned through the chimney as he noticed the shaggy dog alike tail,
“or I set you at fire!” it snorted while continuing drinking the ale
it had bumped into after being disturbed while he tried to shuteye,
because someone tried to break into his place and that was why
he had a really bad mood!
“I’m hungry. Let’s search for some food.”

The chimney was empty but on top of the roof sat
not a shaggy dog but a wolf who just had
the most unwelcome surprise of his life,
right after he had lost his dear wife.
That cabin? It meant the world to him.
For sure that intruder wouldn’t stay forever inside,
he would guard his place the entire night
and if needed the next days and twilights as well.
He knew he could easily swell
and blow the whole place away,
but no way
he would do that.
It was all that he had.
As he heard the drunk boar fell and snore
he jumped off the roof, hid around the corner, and watched the front door.

It didn’t take long or a pig appeared
out of nowhere. The lonely wolf feared
this one wouldn’t make it easier to get
his beloved home back and instead
of blowing his cottage away
he did so with the pig at the start of the day
right before he could knock on the door
and wake up drunk Senior snoring on the floor.

“One swine less to worry about”,
the wolf gaped and stretched himself out.
He was patient, had plenty of time.
“No matter how long it takes, I will get back what is legally mine.”
He smiled as he thought of his dear wife.
Why did she change already the present for the next life?

At the time the sun left the horizon,
the wolf still waited and watched his spot,
while the pig inside was convinced he did not
do something wrong or brought harm
to anyone. He thought back at his life at the farm
where his mother always took care.
She never told him to beware
of someone else’s property.
Which was the main reason why he took so eagerly
what didn’t belong to him and
he was rude and even scolded to vent
his frustration about the commotion.
The brainless pig reached for more alcohol, the potion
was still in his blood although his banging head,
nearly drove him crazy which should be a clear warning said.
He couldn’t help, resist it, longed for more but
the bottles were empty and he didn’t have the gut’
to go outside ’cause he hardly could walk
in a straight line.
“I really could use some more beer or… wine.”
Who could he ask for help in case of such an emergency?
Who on earth could that be?
He thought long and hard but without any other outcome
as to leave the place he adopted as his newfound home.
“Later I will go, for sure I will
I just need to lay down a bit longer since my head is still
banging and the steps I take are shaky…”

“Wakey, wakey!”
It was Fatso who intended to knock at the door.
Not that he liked to socialize,
it was more he had a huge appetite and he thought it would be wise
to search for Senior who always knew a way
to find good food and most likely was the one who would ask him to stay overnight.

who’s that boar?
How many more
evil pigs stroll around?
No one in this family
is raised properly?
“Porky this is my ground!
Take your fat paw
away from my gate.
Ever heard of the law?
Be wise.
I don’t warn twice!”
Fatso looks up at the guy.
He was huge. He couldn’t remember why
he had set foot on this ground in the first place.
Was it fear that had erased
his memory and his hunger for food?
“I’m sorry sir my intentions were…”
He didn’t know what he should say.
It had been an exciting and exhausting day.
“I thought, I tried…”
he stuttered looked at all the fur
“… I’m hungry, it’s late, you have any food inside?”

The wolf thought long and deep.
“Pork isn’t sheep”,
was what his wife always said.
She even told him that
pigs are not picky, eat everything.

“You can open the door, there’s no need to ring.
There’s a large piece of meat waiting for you
but only if you can eat and do
it in silence and leave once you’re done.”

“I promise you, sir, I’ll be gone
as soon as I finished my meal.”

“Alright, it’s a deal.”

#kittywu #poem #tale #threepigs #story

Why? A Christmas tale

It was dark as she woke up. Was it night or early in the morning? She couldn’t tell. The clock was ticking. In a way it was comforting but at times it made her furious too. Not that she showed the anger inside. She knew she had to wait. Wait till they had time for her, told her it was time to get out of bed and start the day. Why was it up to them?
She knew the time had changed but that didn’t matter. She was no baby still she had to go to bed early and came out late. Not because she needed much sleep, her rest but because they, those who took care of her had a life too. They needed their privacy, relaxing time or however they called it. She wasn’t a priority to them or anyone just a job that had to be done. Day after day all she did was wait till it was her turn. How many times in her life had people told her her time would come? Lies, it all been lies. She turned onto her left side and pushed the pillows aside. All those stupid cushions. How could anyone sleep on them? They hurt her neck, back and head. Why wasn’t she allowed to sleep without? It was her bed, her night rest and her body.
The clock was ticking and the thoughts kept running. Today it was Christmas. The reason to celebrate the bringer of light, love and laughter but instead the made up fat Coca man who brought gifts was applauded. Not the person who bought all those gifts, the one who should have all the credit but some fat old imposter who steals milk and cookies while he travels by light. Or did he use a time machine? Why? Why did people fall for that and so many other lies? Ten lies a person tells in an hour, each hour, and no lie detector detects them. Can you imagine that?
A time machine would make a great gift. Which time and place could she pick to get that better life?

The sound of a soft click. She knew what it was and meant. Not her turn yet, more waiting. Christmas wasn’t a reason to get out of bed early. Not to them. She had to wait till it was her turn. How come it always took so long? They had time to shower, get dressed. They had their tea or coffee and breakfast and all the time to play with their phones, bracelets and that chip implanted in their hand. She had seen the bumps and wondered why they felt so excited about it. They walked around like a chipped animal although, all these pets were still dumped on the street. No way a chip could be read if the dog didn’t like you, not want you near. She had watched how easily the dog catcher had shot many best friends. Human’s best friend he had called mad dogs. Those dogs hadn’t been mad. The poor animals were afraid, afraid, molested and hungry.

She turned on her back pulled the blanket over her head to protect herself against the cold and the sound of the clock. Tick tock, tick-tock. Why didn’t she leave? They say Christmas is the best time of the year. It didn’t feel like it and wouldn’t happen if she stayed in bed and obeyed. She suddenly remembered the old tale Cinderella. That girl had left and because of that act, her life became better. No God or Santa was needed.
She could do it. She could get dressed and walk out just like that 100-year-old man in the film who climbed out of the window. She smiled. For the first time in a very long time, she did. She moved her toes and fingers underneath the sheets. Her legs felt restless it was time to make a move. Today was the day. No one would pay attention to her, they hardly knew she existed. She turned on her left side again and thought about what to wear. It was important to stay warm. Did she need money or did everyone use a chip?
“There’s food in the kitchen, eat before you leave and take a filled bag on your way out,” a voice inside said.

She heard a sound in the hallway and waited. They wouldn’t open her door in the next hours. She had to get out of bed to act. The cold made her shiver as she sat on the bed’s edge wrapped in her blanket. Outside of her window was a cold, white world slowly awakening. Was it possible to climb out of the window? She put on her socks and trousers and found her way to the toilet where she sat in the dark. It didn’t bother her there was no light. Clothes, she needed more clothes. Layers of clothes to stay warm just like Heidi.
She opened the closet pulled out what she thought might fit and put it on. Without any doubt, her mom would say she looked badly dressed like a homeless but she didn’t care. Important was to wear what kept her warm and together it looked colourful. Her tiny hand searched the shelf at the back of the closet and felt something soft. What was that? She pulled it out and remembered the gift of long ago. The scarlet knitted hat and scarf she’d never worn because they were useless inside the four walls she was locked in. Did she still have a jacket?

She carefully made her bed. Pillows pushed underneath the blanket. For sure that would keep them busy if they entered her room at all.
“No chip, no bracelet, no phone. It will be hard to track and trace me. They might shoot me like a crazy dog,” she whispered on the way to the door.

Her door was open, the hallway empty and the Christmas tree looked like a dark monster instead of the bringer of hope and light.
She had a quick stop in the kitchen. So much food everywhere. She filled her pockets and bag with the goodies and pushed two bottles with lids on the top. In the corner, she stood drinking her cup of tea. Was that chocolate?
She waited for the right moment. It was silent inside as she left by the backdoor. The sun came out and felt warm on her friendly face as she walked through the lane. She had no idea where to go but today would be a perfect day.


The shops were decorated, a large tree adorned the square. It smelled nice and she wasn’t in a hurry which was good. It was the first time since long no clock was ticking and time didn’t matter. While she sat underneath the tree she watched people passing by. Those who noticed her greeted friendly some even wished her merry days but no one asked her why she sat there all alone. How come not a single person asked if she shouldn’t be at home?
She ate from the food she took, sipped her tea and enjoyed life. At nightfall, she opened the second bottle and was surprised by the smell. Chocolate milk, not too hot but still warm. She had time to drink it all. She was alone, no one missed her and she knew she wouldn’t go back to the elderly home. Finally, Christmas became the best time of the year. She smiled as she laid her head on the empty bag. She had never been afraid to die only been afraid her life would never start. She stared at the snowflakes who fell off the sky each one of them looked like a twinkling little star.
Within an hour the snow covered it all and it would be before the new year, might be even January 6th or later, the Municipality Cleaning Service would find her smiling underneath the tree.

#kittywu #story #christmas


The luxury of a phone, having a phone of my own and having it always at hand. It was the best day of my life as it was given away at the supermarket. All I had to do was buying a box washing detergent, the powder. As I read the advertisement I hoped the powder wouldn’t damage the phone. I took the risk. Free is always good.
The phone was well wrapped, even vacuum sealed. The amount of detergent was another story. I could hardly found any. What I bought was good for six laundries. Six instead of thirty. That phone didn’t turn out to be that free at all. After I charged the battery -took ages- I struggled even longer to start it and update all the apps it came along with. No idea what they were meant for but without I couldn’t receive or make a call.

A week later my smart new item finally operated. I finished the registering of the phone, all apps, the simcard, gave my e-mail, bankaccount, social security number and ID to all who who asked for it. Those apps and sites who refused to operate without.

I’m on my way I texted to my mom. I buy us dinner on the way.

A short beep accompanied by a vibration made me stop to read:

No, you are not! You are a danger to us all. You are unvaxxed, is what the text said. I scrolled and read: You have ten minutes to go back inside your home or we inform the patrol. Watch your steps or you end up dead! Google’s freedom4all.


#pictureprompt #kittywu #creativewriting #life

The trapped child

The trapdoor… It was closed.
At least it was most of the time.
I can tell you there is nothing behind.
It’s not the place to be.
Too dark, too smelly, too much grief.

“It’s a wild world,” mom used to say.
She stated: it’s safer for me if I stay with her
which is short for: if you do not listen to me
if you set one foot outside I beat the crap out of you.
You little piece of shit!

This time bird poop did it.
It wasn’t my fault though.
“It was the bird who flew inside,” I cried
but she refused to listen to me.
She already made up her mind I deserved to be punished.

“No festival for you,” she yelled at me.
“You can forget about party time young lady!
Get out of my sight and wash yourself properly!”
“I couldn’t help it,” I sobbed.
The trapdoor was open as I finally showed up.

I knew what that meant.
Lockdown-time again, being isolated for days.
Can be weeks passed by.
I can’t tell why the trapdoor was open at that particular moment
It was a good thing I didn’t collapse yet.

What happened?
Who are those people asking: Are you alright?
Where was mom?
I collapsed woke up in a hospital bed.
I was all over the news, an icon.
The trapdoor girl survived, they said.

#kittywu #story #freewrite #weekendfreewrite

Prompts used

– trap door
– it’s a wild world
– bird poop
– festival
– a good thing
– icon

Time will tell

He held her while during their walk outside to the shops. An outsider would think he gave her strength. In reality she was the strong one. The person he could rely one for over 60 years. She had hoped for better times. Freedom. A life without him.
He wasn’t the supportive, lovely man others saw but the narcissist who checked out on her 24/7. The man who wouldn’t let go of her. The guy who only became older due to her.

The Prompt




Mats a great guy lived his life.
Independently of others.
People liked him.
Can be because he was friendly, greeted everyone and even smiled at strangers.
It was not that he had no family but they didn’t live nearby.
Nothing to worry about since they called frequently and each one of them had an enriched life. No moment of boredom.

Days, weeks, months even years passed by.
Satisfied he was and it showed.
He enjoyed himself even as an epidemic knocked at the doors.
It will pass, be patient, stay inside, keep your windows closed and everything will be alright soon enough the news reporter announced.
It wasn’t a message of doom for Mats. Born after the second world war he was aware of the fact that nothing would ever stay the same. The normal back then had come to an end long ago.

There was no need to watch the same old show and listen to the news day and night. Plenty of things he had to do plus he could always have a look outside.
The streets looked empty and he wondered where did all people go. Not a single voice of the neighbours he heard through the walls.
The cupboard and fridge became empty and worse of all he didn’t feel too well.

“It doesn’t matter,” he told to himself, “after all these years there’s no need to wake up early. I’ll stay in bed.”
He curled up and coughed and fell into a restless sleep. Time no longer play a role for those who are sick and need to recover.
For a second he woke up. Did the phone ring, did his brother try to call?
His bed felt warm and comfortable. Later he would see, later was early enough.

How many days had passed by? It’s hard to say but a knock at the door woke him up. Still, not well he let his visitors inside.
“We received an alarming call. Sir, are you alright?”
He didn’t really know what to say and tried not to cough.
“Pneumonia,” one said to the other who answered “all cupboards are empty. There’s indeed no piece of bread in the house.”
“I’m so sorry I cannot offer you a cup of tea,” Mats stammered ashamed about his lack of hospitality.
“Don’t worry Sir, we are here to come to your aid. We’ll fill out some papers and guarantee your food will be here soon. Just go back to bed we’ll let ourselves out.”

Relieved that’s how Mats felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. His stomach no longer ached. The heartbeat down there was clearly felt through his ski, all body mass had left him.



Hope kept him for 21 more days alive. At least that’s what they said. Twenty-one day’s Mats were spent mainly in bed saving his energy, trying to hang in, keep warm. Not once during all these days, his front doorbell rang, not a single person cared about him or brought him some food. No doctor visited the seriously ill man. They all forgot about him.
A friendly, independent man, once liked, died alone because no one gave a damn.
“It was pneumonia the city said,” instead of admitting he died of starvation, ignorance and bureaucracy.

#kittywu #story #news #pandemic

Thomas Malthus

“Let me tell you a tale you haven’t heard,” the storyteller said to his audience.
“It’s about combat, a fight on life and death but not in the way you listeners expect.
Once life was so easy back then. We’ll alll knew how to take care, to stay alive.”

In the background a wealthy man smirked as he heard the storyteller say: “be aware for the man with the spade, his name is Bill and he’s not on his way but already present. A follower of Thomas Malthus the guy who said: who’s born into a world already occupied, when his family does not have the means to feed him, or when society has no need for his labour, that man has not the slightest right of a part of food, and he is really too much on the earth. No place is reserved for him at the great banquet of nature. Nature commands him to depart, and she does not fail to carry out this order herself.
Be aware my friends this is about depopulation, killing babies to wipe out their CO2, your death!”

The storyteller looked the man who had smirked right into his eyes. “You are dead,” the rich man whispered, “count on that. No one needs a storyteller.”

“In front of the winery where the village’s people gathered to celebrate a bird of paradise suddenly appeared and spoke: dear people it’s not too late. Together you can build your paradise trust me it’s not too late yet. The only thing you need to do is fighting for your legal right. There’s no need to support old men with greed no one needs them without your agreement they are done.

80% nature, 10% agriculture, 10% for human kind?

#kittywu #pandemic #story #life #depopulation #storyteller #malthus

Just a penny

Here, here
Buy it now
Read for yourself
I have something to share
Good news you buy today
Only with me
People, I keep you updated.
The latest news
It’s good for the mind, a conversation
With your family or at work.
Have you heard what they said?
Do you know what they did?
See for yourself.
The old guys are dead.
It’s the end of the dynasty.
No red shield is left.
No genocide.
The suffering is over
Some fought for our rights.
Own responsibility.
You look as if you could use some good news Sir
It would do you good.
Just a penny
for these thoughts printed
Speculations to comfort your mood.


Drugged – a bedtime story

“Tell me a story”, they said
I wish I could but you know what?
It’s empty inside my head.
Totally blank it is.
Not even a bang, beep or thought
is left and I feel like the goldfish
in its bowl we all like but which never gets old.
It opens its mouth and swims around
in circles whole day on and even at dawn
It continues ’cause otherwise, it will fall.

That fish… it’s not different from me.
Just like it, I find it hard to realize.
There is nothing left, not one single story of mine.
How can I discover the world outside of my bowl?
The emptiness… it’s so scary, it makes me evaporate.
While I’m circling, gasping for air
and am hoping for a miracle.
The little ones wait are still there.

“Tell a story, please”, they ask again.
This is the last thing I need.
I grab the book that is pushed into my hand
and pray the bedtime storytime will end soon.

“There she goes… Little Red Riding Hood..”
This story is always good since it’s about red,
a little girl, and a sick granny with her own apple tree.
“You see?” I ask and point at a plant
and the apple that a man holds in his hand.
“That’s not Red Riding Hood or grandma
but a naked guy”, my boy says.
He’s right and I wonder why the man looks so pale
whole day in Paradise. It doesn’t make sense at all.
“It’s a granny smith apple”, I state
“No, it’s not this one is red!” My child sounds upset.

“I just show you what happened long ago
before Little Red Riding Hood was born
and grandmother was still attractive, young”.
“Do you believe her brother?” the stubborn
youngest kid said, “If you ask me this guy is buried and dead
ages ago.”
“I know”, he said, “the teacher told me so.
Little Red Riding Hood is no part of the family
neither is granny.
About those apples… I don’t know.”

“Hey dudes there she goes”, I continue madly.
It’s wiser to ignore the two of them
if I want this story to end tonight.
It’s late, I’m tired of all the work so when
I can
I sneak away and let both stay behind.

“Let’s see what that little girl is up to. Where might she go?”
“I already know”,
both replied and
I wonder why I bother
I pray bedtime storytime came to an end.
“If you already know there’s no need to tell you a tale then…”
“Ohhh please…”

“The basket is heavy and the girl is not tall…
homemade butter cookies and wine granny loves most of all.”

“Is she a drunk?”
“I guess she is otherwise it would be lemon and tea”.
“I see.”

“Little Red Riding Hood’s mom is busy and not in the mood
Laundry, dishes, and an extra job to pay for all the food
spoiled grandmother ordered by e-mail.”

“Are you sure this is real?”

“Grandma doesn’t live nearby
and that’s is why
Little Red Riding Hood has to pay her a visit
to deliver all of it.
Off she goes with granny’s good food.
Breakfast isn’t included and… no bottle of water for her if she’s thirsty.
Still, the girl is in a good mood.

“Where is her brother
can’t he take it?”
“She is an only child.”
“What does that mean?”
“She lives with her mother.”
“The good mood is because she likes granny?”
“I don’t know but we can follow
her if you like. The path goes through the forest
but she isn’t allowed to leave it though.”

“I know”, both say, “it’s dangerous outside today.
You don’t let us go outside, right?”
“No, I don’t and you know why.”
“Because of the Boogieman?”
“No, wait I know”, my little boy said,
“It’s because of the rainbow clown and clowns are so bad.”
“And dangerous just like in IT
they give a balloon to each little kid
Both smirked.
“You mean curious not lost, now let me finish if you like to hear how it went.”

Both looked satisfied ’cause storytime would never end.

“Alright, there she goes on a shiny day.
The basket is huge and filled to the lid.
It’s not exactly what a kid
should carry but we know mother has too much to do
and the girl doesn’t mind visiting opoe.

“Opoe? Who’s opoe?”
“Opoe is Dutch for grandma.”
“Is she single?”
“No dummy he’s dead!”
“Grandpa, just like our dad.”

“Little Red Riding Hood knows the way ’cause it isn’t the first time
she visits granny who lives alone
plus she knows she can open the door and go inside if… no one is at home.”

“Why should no-one be at home. She is sick!”
“I know, I know”, I hastily said and pray
they will not interrupt me again
so I can finally end
the story for which I had 5 minutes planned.

“Look how happy she is, busy picking flowers.
They grow next to the path which is fine.
Now sick granny can dine at a nice set table
with a bouquet, cookies and wine.

“Once she feels better. If you are ill you cannot eat. You should stay in bed.
You always say that”, my little smart one added.
It sounds as if the grandmother isn’t in such a need.
She sent an e-mail with her shopping list and feels fit enough to command others around.”

I frown. What more can I let out?

“What’s that sound”, I whisper. Both, startled by me changing the subject suddenly look around.

“It’s the wolf! Her only friend.
A grey strong dog living at the other end
of the forest.
He has a great smell and knows the girl very well.”

“You shouldn’t be here my dear”,
he walks a bit closer and stands near
the basket with food.
“What’s in it, scents so great?”
“I tell you if you carry it for me ’cause I’m late.”
“You shouldn’t have stopped to pick flowers.”
“I know but I did although granny has allergies.
Will you help me, please?”
“Only if you give me the cookies.”
“Fine,” Little Red Riding Hood said and opened the basket and peeped inside.
“We eat them together in granny’s front yard
they will only make her fart

Soon they arrived in perfect harmony
at the home of the sick elderly
which one could clearly smell from outside.
“Damn girl, that woman is sick I can tell,”
the wolf said while he held his breath.
“Are you sure she’s alive, not dead?”
“I think so, but hey I owe you some cookies.”
“If you don’t mind we better find another place and eat them elsewhere.
I can’t stand the smell of old, dead meat, let’s go and eat.”

The cookies tasted good and there was no need to worry about granny not getting her food.
The wolf was right, granny… died.
After she wrote her e-mail and clicked ‘send’
her life had come to an end.
Not because of old age or she was unplugged
by Covid-19 but ’cause she was **drugged** and poisoned with graphene.

Other stories
The hostess

The holy man

#kittywu #story #freewrite #tale #covid19 #graphene #forthechildren #wolf

The holy man

Year after year I wait.
I am on time, he’s always late.
“Be good”, says dad day after day
I don’t care if I am since I hope I may
join him if he drops by.
Bad children are not sweet and ’cause they are wrong
they go in the bag black Peter takes along
It’s with him I want to be.
Black Peter is acrobatic and always happy.
My mother… She is mean and cruel you see
that’s why I wait by the chimney
Next to my shoe, at sometimes it’s a boot
which I filled with cookies, and a letter to explain
Why I want to come along to avoid the pain
My parents cause me since God doesn’t care about me.
In the darkness and cold I wait.
It doesn’t matter there’s no fire
I don’t care if he is late
As long as he crawls through the pipe and pays me a visit
If I can tell him I’m serious about it and show how fit
I am when
If I climb through the chimney to accompany
My hero black Peter and I’ll promise and show I can
work hard an am a the perfect help for the holy man.

#kittywu #tale #poetry #saint #nicholas #forthechildren

The show

Awards we need awards for the ceremony, he yelled while he held or at least tried to keep his leashed dirty dog away from his suit. Is there anyone who can take care of that?

We all smirked while we observed his acrobatic manoeuvres which made the dirty devil enthusiastically jump up and down. Ready to attack the clown he had for a master.

It’s clear his life is not a bed of red roses, Rick said bursting out in laughter and the guy was right.
The pet of this clown was for sure not the award he had had in mind as he had picked it up at the vet. A guy who knew very well that this dog did put a spell on you.

I call your boss dog, Rick shouted at the animal as it tried to jump on him. Mud and dirt were included within this approach while it dragged his owner along with him.

The clown’s clothes were torn and caught enough wind to look like a parachute. The striped pink-orange underwear didn’t look so good and hurt my eyes.

Rick ran for his life as the dog chased him with the clown who wouldn’t let go.
Not able to slow down he ran a red light which was the last thing we saw
They disappeared out of sight and this ceremony ended the show.

#kittywu #freewrite #weekendgreewrite #story


Trust is a big part of misinformation.
How could you do this to me?
I watched you while you painted the wall
Lost were those positive vibes, it’s too long ago
My 5 scenarios are all
about how… to leave, get rid of you now.
I tried to record them one by one
The way we met, your good deeds, what you did for me and how.
But it’s like losing a ping-pong match, I’m done.
The paint you use is green
A kind of green I’ve never seen
It has a bit in common with those green beans I hate and you love.
I wish someone had or could explain the rules of how to keep crazy about you.
I tried so hard. For me, for you but you are not the one.
“Ready”, you said satisfied while looking at the wall.
“Pack your bag I give you 30 minutes that’s all
I can do for you.”
Your words took me by surprise how did you know?
You kicking me out wasn’t in my scenario.
“Twenty-five minutes left”, you said while you opened the window.
All I knew while I watched you falling was that you are so fake.
I didn’t deserve this heartbreak.


#kittywu #freewrite #weekendfreewrite #story