Sven Part II

Sven is a great lover of fans, water and bright, shiny, reflective trinkets. That’s all he does all day, lounge around absorbing light from his trinkets and occasionally dunking his head in room temperature still water. Leaf people. One day Sven had his head submerged in a seat of water when he heard a violent rapping at the door. To Sven’s confusement his old friend and former publicist, Wayne, kicked down the door.

Wayne Rankledon is a Pickle Pirate born and bred. He tried only two other career paths: A lawyer and a publicist. After that he just concentrated on being a Pickle Pirate. Wayne had the most incredible toothpick leg. He acquired it at a cocktail party at the White House in the early 80’s. Being a pirate he consumed too much grog that night and ended up stumping Richard Nixon right in the mouth while he was cleaning his teeth with a presidential toothpick – All because Nixon had his car parked over the Pickle Pirates jar of Brine.

Wayne Hobbled in radiating excitement and wielding banana skins in his hands. Wayne burst straight into his exciting story about a dust bunny King Pin and a treasure map etched into several banana skins. Sven just sat there in awe at the Pirate’s tale of dust bunnies, unimaginable shiny, reflective trinkets and how Wayne, the Pickle Pirate, had the banana skin treasure map in his possession. Needless to say Sven was well keen for this adventure. Before the two adventurers could embark on their journey, Wayne needed two things; something to quench his pirate sized thirst and water pistols filled with Window lean. Sven knew just what the pickle pirate needed. He went over to the kitchen filled the kettle with rum, turned it on and returned to Wayne with loaded water pistols and matching holsters.

Sven makes the BEST pirate tea. Pirate tea is indeed a delicacy, a sophisticated pirate drink. Its contents are a kettle of rum and a tea bag. The last time Sven made a kettle of pirate tea the majority of northern Canada blacked out. They blamed the sun and his flare. 

Whilst chugging down several pints of pirate tea and cleaning his toothpick peg leg, Wayne preached to Sven a brief history of the Dust Bunny King Pin…



Please note I do not own the pictures and the pictures are in no way related to Sven. 

Sven: Part I

I have noticed I have picked up a few more followers over the last few posts, more than usual, which fills my heart with jelly beans and marshmellows. I have also noticed that my little stories have gotten more likes than usual. So for my new followers, and those who have not time-traveled my blog posts, I have decided to re-post a work still in progress. It’s called “Sven”, some of you may know him, others don’t. I will release this story in parts over the next few weeks. May you enjoy this silly, tall-tale of an awesometastic being named Sven.  Happy Friday!


The thing about the thing about telling tales of leaf people is that they don’t like it much. My one friend’s second cousin, Andy, he once told a story of a leaf person. THAT story was genius! But that leaf person heard about it, stole Andy’s car, pawned it in and replaced it with a big shiny bubble. Andy was outraged, as insurance companies don’t insure big shiny bubbles. So leaf people tales are delicate. You have to know how to spindle their stories. If your facts aren’t entirely correct you WILL fall victim to a leaf person’s prank. Many people are quick to dismiss leaf people stories as “Tall Tales”. Just wait till they have a leaf person tale to tell! Truth be told leaf people are very friendly and helpful, it’s just that a lot of the tales that are spun are not entirely accurate. Not this one. This tale is about a particularly awesome leaf person named Sven.

Sven is brilliant. He once taught a door stop how to walk. That door stop went on to win gold at the Sydney Olympics. Sven is a traveller, a true leaf Gypsy. He even used to dress up as a middle-aged woman, reading various animals and people their future with a crystal ball, but the animals and people were confused and many feared his androgynous psychic abilities. Anyway, Sven was an orphan you see, lost his entire family tree at a young age. He witnessed them burn, but he luckily got away. He never let it get him down. He had some GREAT friends like Hillcrest the sautéed peanut and Freckles the ginger cauliflower. He met many friends through the years from many places. Sven worked many jobs too, that’s how he met so many people. He once agreed to wrestle a zebra for a wheel of cheese just so he could chase it down a grassy hill. Sven is great, he was even asked to help free a whale caught in fishing nets off the coast of New Zealand. Sven was genius; he just rowed out to the whale, spoke to him for 20 minutes, convinced the whale he was a salamander and swam away fancy free! Ah Sven, definitely the guy you want in your posse. I remember this one time we were in a crunch. Everyone was panicking, except Sven. Sven was so cool. He just unzipped his trousers, pissed out strawberry Nesquick and ate us all out to safety. It’s that “Make anything happen” attitude that made Sven so loveable. This particular tale happened a couple of years ago in the 3rd and a half month on the eleventy first day, under the light of a full moon…


P.S. Please note that the images used in this post do not belong to me, these images were the closest I could Google that represents Sven and leaf people.  


A city by the sea

BoKaap (Large)


It was a city of 3.74 million ghosts, all living on auto-pilot. Life was a routine, a reaction to emotion and the senses. Each ghost was more important than the other, in a competition to be more alive. The competition eventually became another routine, squeezing the life from its form, leaving the shell to walk the earth as it desperately sought day after day the connection in once had with life.
Now the city is filled with varying degrees of a somnambulist society, silently screaming for a life that is not ready to exist until evolution decides the time is right…

The truth about love

He spent the night before in a drunken stupor. The pressures of life was getting too much. Every choice he made seemed in vain. He had the best intentions for everything he did, yet his decisions and actions had consequences that panned out very differently to what he envisioned.

He could still taste the alcohol on his breath as he forced himself off his couch. He caught a glimpse of the photograph that sat on the shelf. Such happy times, he thought. Funny how so much can change in several months. The photograph brought a sadness and a yearning for the past, but he shook it from his mind as he downed a glass of cold water.

Since she left he hardly cared to keep the fridge and pantry stocked. Hunger caused his stomach to ache. He hadn’t eaten properly for three days, and his binge the night before didn’t help. He brushed his teeth, changed his t-shirt and left his house.

The restaurant was small and it’s atmosphere relaxed. He sat at the table in the corner, by the window. There were a few conversations happening at surrounding tables. At a table across the modest room, there were a group of girls who sat silently, each in front of their laptop tapping at their keys. They looked foreign.

He then noticed the waitress. She was beautiful. She seemed to radiate a certain energy, which caused him to smile. His eyes moved down to his hands and rested on his wedding band. His smile slowly faded.

The waitress walked over to his table and asked if she could take his order. All of a sudden he noticed he was slightly nervous, as he pulled his gaze from his hands. Their eyes locked and he couldn’t help but smile at her, and she did the same. They shared a fraction of a second of a moment, but a moment nevertheless and he felt so certain she felt the same. She didn’t have to write down his order. She smiled as she assured him his meal wouldn’t take long and casually walked back toward the till. His gaze remained with her and although he couldn’t see her face, he hoped that she was still smiling.

A stranger all of a sudden sat down on the chair opposite him. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

The stranger must have been in his mid fifties. He wore a brown coat and fedora. His skin was brown and worn by the sun. His beard seemed somewhat dirty and unkept and the smell of cigarettes clung to him.

Taken by surprise, he asked if he could help the stranger and kindly said he wasn’t looking for company.

The two of you shared a moment just then. Not many people get to share moments like those too often. It’s in moments such as those when you can tell if someone was meant for you.”

He was taken aback and felt incredibly confused with the stranger, but gave the stranger enough respect as to remain silent and allow him to continue.

I know love and its different faces when I see it. I saw it just then between you and the waitress.” The stranger paused. “And I also saw it in your sadness when you looked down at your wedding band. Love has many faces and many effects and all of them should be cherished.”

He was surprised at the strangers words but couldn’t falter him. He remained silent but with more interest as he let the stranger talk.

Many have misplaced the truth about love. Do you want to know the truth about love? The truth is, there is no one person just for you. There is no one soul-mate out there for each of us, there are many and each wears a different face of love. The truth about love is, we can fall in love with anyone. Anyone we choose, we have the ability to love them. What really makes love flourish is the dedication and devotion to that one you choose. With that dedication and devotion comes sacrifice – to see their happiness over yours, which ultimately should be yours, and by investing your devotion, dedication and sacrifice makes that person you chose to love, the one. The special one, who is unlike anyone else in the world, because they have your unique love. That, my friend, is the truth about love.”

Before he could say a word the stranger stood up, tipped his fedora, took a toothpick from the table and walked out the restaurant.

He sat there perplexed at the strange encounter, of which no one else in the restaurant seemed to take notice. Just then the beautiful, radiant waitress brought him his order. He smiled more care-free now as he thanked the waitress. There was a look in her eyes that made him feel love and he wished to be able to return it.

As he ate he thought about the stranger and his words about love. The stranger didn’t necessarily say anything he did not know before, but it felt as though this arbitrary encounter with him brought a bit of clarity to his life. It didn’t make things easier, but he just felt a little more enlightened.

He shared one last more moment with the waitress as he paid for his meal. Her smile made him feel love again as he thanked her and left. The rest of the way home he thought about the stranger, the waitress, his life and of love, but three words resonated within him; dedication, devotion and sacrifice.  

The Visitor

He was a loner. A traveller from beyond many people’s imagination and beliefs. He was not from earth. A being similar to man, but more evolved. He understood more about the nature and interconnectedness of life which permeated the universe. He was well-travelled. A visitor to many a galaxy. He witnessed many sunrises and sunsets with different hues. He followed many stars and the innumerable forms of life it birthed. Life for him was about experience. Experiencing all life’s offerings in all its infinite possibilities – an endless curve of learning which eventually spirals but never ends.

His journey brought him to the milky way, to a sun and its solar system. It was unique and special, just like every other solar system he visited. There was one planet that stood out at him upon first glance. The third planet, which glowed a beautiful blue and green had caught his attention and he decided to explore it last.

The other planets and their satellites were beautiful and extraordinary, their life forms too, were most impressive and he was in awe at all these expressive possibilities. Yet all the planets in this solar system paled in comparison to the blue planet.

His transport hovered above the planet’s atmosphere as the visitor drank in its sunrise. It was beautiful. He felt there was something different about this world, as though it vibrated differently. The visitor descended silently and was swallowed by the atmosphere. The scenery became more fantastic the lower he descended. He saw the buzzing of organised life, which he was not overly surprised to see, but was still excited by it.

He observed that there was an abundance of a particular species, which he noticed was not too dissimilar from himself. He assumed the species to be somewhat evolved as they made use of technologies in everyday life. This was nothing new to the visitor. He had observed countless planets and had been witness to many species at different stages of evolution. He had visited quite a few planets similar to this, but at the same time all very different.

He discovered the dominant species communicated vocally and different inhabitants of different areas used their vocals differently, but generally they referred to their planet as Earth.

Earth itself was beautiful. It had such variety, brimming with life. The visitor felt for earth to be a happy planet as it expressed itself in such a beautiful way. It felt like a creative world, and because of its creativity, felt more evolved than the other planets of this particular solar system.

The visitor learned that it was the humans that earth favoured at this point in her evolution. They had such great ability and even more potential that what they possessed as a collective. The humans could affect their environment most amongst the species of Earth. They were aware of this. And because humans displayed such an awareness, they were able to rise to the very top of the food chain. They were able to cater for their needs, and others of the same species. The humans showed the visitor they were able to work together for the benefit of the collective. Although the visitor marvelled at how Earth created humans, among the countless other species, and how she moulded them with evolution to arrive at this point, he couldn’t help but feel some sadness. He observed how earth’s creation steadily turned against her, editing her very nature.

The closer he observed the humans, more flaws he started to notice. The visitor drew the conclusion that life had no meaning for humans. What should have been considered an invaluable gift had been squandered. The visitor noticed the inability for balance in the human collective, and that imbalance had such a profound effect due to such large numbers of humans.

Because of the similarity in form between the visitor and the humans, he had a fondness for them. He soon realized his fondness was for the human as an individual, but as a collective they disappointed him to the point of sadness.

There were so many of them scattered on all the lands of Earth. The visitor began seeing them more like insects and pests. During the days he saw them hard at work like ants, running about carrying out their function. When the sun had traversed past sight and dark filled the land, the visitor saw the humans like cockroaches – scuttling about scavenging for their favourite past-time and indulging in their leisure as an escape from their over-complex worker life. It saddened the visitor that such a similar form to himself allowed life to become so complex, that they live in complexity and very seldom interact with the simplicity of life.

The visitor saw the extent of how much the humans could affect their environment. The humans no longer effected their individual lives, but also that of other species, including that of their own. They were even able to effect and infect the life of their planet, the one who gave rise to them and chose them as her keeper. The humans no longer looked after Earth, their interest lay with themselves. They continued to use the Earth for their gain, even though they could gain no more than what the earth provided. So many humans fighting each other and different species for gain.

The visitor had seen enough. It was a projection of a projection of a projection. He felt it was an important time on the evolutionary scale of Earth. There was still much more humans needed to learn, and thus still needed to evolve. The visitor understood this, and truly hoped for the best. He ascended past the clouds up into the stratosphere and gazed for one last time upon the sunset of the blue and green planet. His transport slowly ascended and he remained fixed upon the earth’s curvature. Once he had left the planet’s atmosphere he wished the planet well for the last time, and moments later disappeared into the vast expanse of space. 

Dance of the fallen

Everything has its time. The days were getting shorter, the evenings cooler, even the hue of the sun was slightly different. Autumn approached and this was the time for the fallen to play.

For most of the season many of them stayed attached to their mothers. She nourished them lovingly, making them strong and beautiful. Things change, as do the seasons. It was time for them to leave their mothers – their final pilgrimage. Many travelled on the breath of the wind, exploring streets and gardens alike. Their pilgrimage took them far from their mothers to foreign playgrounds. They were free.

No longer bonded to their mothers, but the love still remained. They are who they are, because of the love of their mothers. It is never forgotten and always celebrated. The wind provided them with rhythm and they gravitated toward one another, collecting in small groups. The fallen children danced in circles, beautiful and carefree. The dried brittle sounds of the fallen scraped the ground, creating a melody for the wind. The children danced and celebrated to the music that life offered. High above the ground the mothers took pride and joy in seeing their children sharing in the music and dance – children from different lands with different appearances, all sharing in the joy of life.

Everything has its time, this was the time for the fallen to dance.

The Lighthouse

The mist was thick, bringing with it a definite chill to the air. It made the night quieter and darker. It was as if man had fallen away and the only sound that was heard was the roar of the waves. It stood tall as the night mist moved through the air like a ghost, engulfing all in its way. The building stood fast and refused to be taken in by the mist, it had purpose and with that purpose illuminated confidence.

There were small pin-pricks of light scattered on the horizon, barely penetrating the ominous mist. It swallowed their senses, leaving them lost. The unknown was all that remained out at sea, causing anxiety and caution among the ships.

The lighthouse knew its purpose and delighted in illuminating a path for the weary travellers. It stood proud as it radiated its intense light and almost out of excitement, it let out a loud, deep boom. The lighthouse was the sentinel of this stretch of coast. Its light pierced the mist illuminating the dark unknown, offering a direction to those who had become immobilized with caution. The great lighthouse stood tall and proud as the Shepard of the sea.