Aki's Blog

I usually don’t fall for flattering, especially not when it’s about my music or my writing. But today I was encountered by my Swedish teacher who personally wanted to thank me for my excellent latest short story I had sent in. I was given the highest possible grade (MVG+), and was also told I would have been given the same grade if it were in the higher course of Swedish.

It’s nice to see my writing is really appreciated sometimes, to see the glow in one’s eyes that says the story could just as well have been in a high-class short story collection or part of a best-seller novel.

Thanks.

A short story written for school, loosely based on a real life experiance.

The fierce blade of the axe dissected the branch, leaving it to helplessly fall to the ground. I kicked it, as the fallen warrior it was, deserving neither dignity nor compassion. I smiled, held he axe steadily in my hands and let it hit the tree yet again, however this time barely scratching it.

The fresh wind stroked my face and the sun shone upon my hair, and I stood still for a moment, gazing upon the cloudless clear blue sky and using my empty hand to shield my eyes from the sun. The words “perfect summer” flashed through my mind, and again I focused my sight upon the tree before me. I lifted the axe, I saw the target and I realized I had missed before I even lifted the axe above the height of my thighs.

I was lying down, breathing heavily, unknowing whether my eyes should be kept open or closed. The axe’s blade had a clear dark red stain as it lay before me, and I knew it was of the same origin as what was seeping through the fingers of my shaking hand, as I instinctively tried to supply pressure on the cut on my left leg. “Blood”, I thought. “I’m bleeding.” I let go of the wound, and dared to examine it for barely a second before I withdraw my head to instead gaze lifelessly at the lonely cloud wandering across the realm of reality. My focus dropped. “It’s yellow. I didn’t know flesh was yellow. Why is it yellow? God, is that the fat? How deep is this? Why is it yellow?” Dad came running, screaming my name. But I barely heard him.

A few days ago, I read Stephen King’s short story entitled 1408, about a haunted hotel room (room 1408, duh) that is visited by an writer of horror books.

It’s great! The film based upon the short story premiered in the fall of October here in Sweden, and I’m going to see it on cinema some time this week. It seems really great. I recommend the short story to everyone, it is included in King’s short story collection Everything’s Eventual: 14 Dark Tales.

I’m sick again…
My Swedish blog including my novels and short stories doesn’t seem to turn up for a while, but I guess Swedish readers of my blog can wait. It will turn up sometime in February, I promise.