It broke. My fragile mind shattered like a glass mosaic. All the tiny shards fell out of my ears, nose, mouth and eyes until there was nothing left. That's when the men in white came to take me with them. They told me they would take me to a castle where I would be treated like royalty, and where servants would be looking for the pieces of my mind puzzle that I had lost. They dressed me in a beautiful white gown and brought me to my chambers so I could rest after my long journey. The walls and floor were soft to touch, and as I stretched on my toes and reached up my hand, my fingertips brushed against the soft ceiling. There was no need for

The well by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

The well

The well, the well draw no water from the well The secrets of the depths no living can tell. Listen, just listen and then you will hear the whispers of the children who were murdered here. The girl, poor girl she came to the well a babe in her arms which in the water now dwell. One more, one more soon followed the first crying so fiercely his tiny heart burst. The girl, poor woman brought a third to the grave dead in her womb there was no life to save. The fourth and fifth were born as one she brought them to the well and then there were none. The woman was hanged from the old gallows tree when the children grow silent her soul shall

Mad Molly Malone by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Mad Molly Malone

Mad Molly Malone crept into the Blacksmith's house She chopped him up and left again as quiet as a mouse Molly wasn't done and took the Butcher's son next She cut him in two to make a stew while reciting the holy text The Tailor became her third, ending up as a mess She took his hide and wore it with pride, and made herself a dress The Preacher and his son, tried to beg and run But Molly laughed when they started to pray and killed them anyway The Innkeeper begged for his life as she butchered him with a knife And the poor village Doctor lost his head while sleeping in his bed Her husband was last to die, she stabbed him in the eye and b

Spoken unspoken by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Spoken unspoken

Can you hear the echo? It sounds so hollow. Words unspoken hanging in the air. I look at the blank paper and I see the words that should (could) fill in the blank spaces. When I write them down they take wing and fly away leaving the echo behind upon the empty pages. If they land within your mind take root and grow then promise to send their offspring into the air so they may fill out the void left by the unspoken.

Unspoken Words by Ridderkvinden, literature

Love and a Latte. by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Love and a Latte.

Knight of the Petunias. by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

Knight of the Petunias.

I saw a Knight in my garden today. He was kneeling in front of my Petunias as if in prayer, his head all bowed and his hands folded. He had golden, curly hair falling down to his shoulders, and his features were very serene. Almost as if someone had painted them on like that. You can imagine my surprise. It is not every day one gets to see a Knight, let alone in your garden on a sunny, Sunday morning in a sleepy suburb of London. But there he was, contemplating my Petunias. At first I considered calling the police, but the young man was looking so peaceful as he sat there, so, in the end I decided to ask him if he would like a cup of tea inst

The day tomorrow died. by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

The day tomorrow died.

That fateful day in June did not seem out of the ordinary at all. I woke up to the smell of freshly made coffee, and tip-toed downstairs to surprise my wife in the kitchen, making breakfast. I wrapped my arms around her waist and buried my face in her still damp hair, breathing in her fragrance mixing with that of the coffee. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Your breakfast is almost ready!” She smiled at me and turned her head to kiss me before ushering me to the kitchen table. I gratefully grabbed the mug she gave me, and greedily inhaled the smell wafting from it. Nothing beats the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning! A

The old man in the park by Ridderkvinden, literature

Literature

The old man in the park

There's an old man sitting on a bench in the park. A scruffy dog by his feet, on his lips a witty remark. Not a tooth in his mouth, but he smiles anyway. And if you ask him why, this is what he will say: “I have a song in my head, and a smile on my face. I have lived a full life of both sorrow and grace. I have love so plenty, and stories to share. And I live my life without a worry or care.” His wrinkles are a map of a long, lasting life. Of hard work, three sons, and a now deceased wife. His hearing may be bad, and his vision turning grey. But if you ask him, this is what he will say: “I have seen my share of wonders