Nighttime adventures – #BlogBattle

The end of kindergarten was celebrated with a big sleepover. Being all grown up, we of course did not go to bed straight away.

We embarked on an adventure. Our goal was to find a treasure chest somewhere in the forest. Even though it was the beginning of Summer, night fell quickly. And soon our walk went to being well-lit to twilight. None of us were scared, I promise! The adults accompanying us did try everything to scare us, to make the whole experience a bit spooky, we all giggled and were far from serious.

A man carrying a burning torch, that I did not recall seeing before, joined our chaperones. He whispered something that we probably all overheard about there being bears or witches within a cave not so far away.

I don’t remember if we were scared by then, but we surely huddled together a bit closer. The boys started saying that they would trap whatever lived within the cave, but they were just as worried as us girls. Something kept us from believing the story of the stranger.

Night started slowly to fall when we reached a cave, we were meant to go inside. The man with the torch led the way. And I think that we were greeted by a witch, but we didn’t take her seriously, she made too much eye contact with our educators, who did not seem to scared at all. Our experience with Saint Nikolaus being played by the neighbour with the missing finger, had taught us to be sceptical.

After leaving the cave we were surprised by another adult making the sound of a ghost.

We had seen through the adults’ plan, they set everything up so that we would be a bit scared. It didn’t work, not the cave, not the witch, not the ghost, nothing of all that worked.

Suddenly the night around us was pitch black. One of the women accompanying us took out her weak flashlight and looked at her map, “we are lost, I have no idea where we are”. Her voice was calm, but we all sensed her underlining terror. Something was up, now the real witch and not the pretend one would come out of her cave in these fairytale lands to hunt us down. This time the adults were not trying to scare us, they were trying to hide their own fears. It was a scary moment. Was it done on purpose? If it was it was the first time that evening that they had managed to pull their act together.

Rather scared we advanced slowly, trying to find our way. My worst fear was to lose the others, to lose the adults and be on my own in the woods. Maybe I could be saved by dwarfs?

A familiar voice greeted us from the dark. We had arrived at our destination, the treasure chest. Each one of us received a chocolate bar, a little bell, a tiny white stone and a piece of cinnamon. All of these treasures, except for the chocolate bar, still exist in a box somewhere at my parent’s house. Each time I open it I am greeted by a smell of cinnamon and a memory of my childhood.


The word to use for this week’s #BlogBattle was CAVE, this is the memory of an event that happened a little over 20 years.
#BlogBattle is a weekly event hosted by Rachael Ritchey, head over to her blog to read the other posts and vote for your favourites.


© Solveig Werner 2015. All rights reserved.

The invisible scar – #BlogBattle

“Why can I not reach you? Why are you closing yourself off to me?” he asked.

“I am sorry, I don’t want to be this cold towards you.” she replied with a fragile voice.

“Where has all your strength gone? I see you as such a strong …” his words trailed off, as he saw the dark clouds gathering in her eyes.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered in her ear: “when you are ready, I will be there to listen”.

She lowered her head, and nodded, relieved that he didn’t press on with his questions, questions to which she knew no answers.

He knew she was the one. He had never seen a person so beautiful. Her face was perfectly shaped, almost symmetric like a porcelain doll’s. Her body was slender and tall. He knew that looks were not everything, but he knew that she was beautiful on the inside too. Always kind to everyone, helpful and charitable.

Why was she suddenly so sad? Why did his kiss at the end of the date lead to tears? All he could hope for now was that she would want to see him again. He wasn’t sure.

She ran the comb through her black hair. A silent tear slithered down her cheek. Even though she was not smiling it seemed as if her spotless reflection was smiling back at her from the mirror.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, why are we always in search of beauty?” she asked.

Instead of an answer, her phone lit up, on the screen it read, “hey beautiful! will u c me again??”

Even though she did not want to be defined by her obvious beauty, she texted back with a positive reply, “yeah, just don’t call me beautiful”. After all he had opened something up inside, he had started to edge closer to the answers she was yearning to find.

“yeah, just don’t call me beautiful” her answer read. She had replied quicker than he had thought. The questions that had been torturing him all night, started to answer themselves. It was her beauty that made her feel uncomfortable. But why so? Everyone was always searching for more beauty…

There she was, sitting in a blue dress on a park bench, her face hidden by a book.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked and was pleasantly greeted with a smile.

“Tell me, do you think that you will accept my love one day?”

“Don’t you think that you are a bit direct?”

“Maybe”, he took a deep breath before going on. “What is is that hurts you? What is it that keeps you from being happy?”

She looked at her feet, she knew what it was, but did not want to admit it.

“It isn’t your beauty, now, is it?” he went on, reaching out to catch a tear before it stained her cheek.

She took all of her courage into her hands, “it is linked to my beauty though. The thing is, you know, that people don’t see past my appearance, they only see what is on the outside.”

He nodded, “go on, I am all ears.”

“I have been ignored by friends because I am the one getting all the attention. I have been called a ‘fake’, I have been confronted with too much jealousy.” Gratefully she accepted his handkerchief to blow her nose.

“So why is it that I made you cry the other day? I have neither called you a fake, nor been jealous of your looks. I know that you are more than what you are on the outside. There is someone inside of you who is longing to be loved.”

“Exactly for that reason, you are the first person who has seen me for WHO I am and not for WHAT I appear to be. I feel like as if I have been wounded by too many hurtful words, by too many incisive looks, and too much jealousy. You see?”

“Let me help you find happiness. I want to heal those wounds”. He said and leaned in for a kiss.

“Your soul is marked by a scar, but I will do everything for it to vanish.”


This is my  almost too late entry into this weeks #blogbattle the word to use was scar
#BlogBattle is a weekly event hosted by Rachael Ritchey, head over to her blog and check out the other stories and vote for your favourites.


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© Solveig Werner 2015. All rights reserved.

Long Distance – #BlogBattle


In the dark her phone chimed.

Goodnight my love. The text read.

I love you too. She typed back before definitely sinking into her pillows for the night.

Her boyfriend of almost a year now was not next to her, he was far away starting into the new day and not into the night. But he always knew when she was about to tuck herself in.

Like every morning she started the day with a big yawn and a glance at her phone, there was a new message, of course. Why would today be any different? Her heart went into its morning happiness routine, beating quicker in it’s joyful dance. Before it suddenly sunk and cracked. She could not believe what she was reading: The distance, I can no longer bare it. It is over!

Frantically she tried to get her shaking hands to type a reply to this horrible text message.

What? Please don’t do this to me, where the words she send off accompanied by a loud sob.

Thoughts were racing through her brain. This was her fault, she should have stayed, she should have moved in. But, no instead she opted for a long distance relationship by stepping onto that plane.

After two months of dating, just when they started to plan her move into his apartment, she received a job offer, that she did not want to refuse. At the time she though that their relationship was too young.

She started to curse at herself. This was her love, her true love, her soulmate. And she had ruined it all due to a stupid job, that she did not even like. She had ruined it for monetary gain.

Trying to force him to reply, she shook her phone. No reply. Why does he not reply?

Sobbing she stepped into the shower. What would she do now? She had no friends at this distance from home. Maybe she should buy herself a gallon of ice cream to burry her sorrow. And do the obligatory “Sex and the City” binge watching.

Ready for a sad day, she cast a dark look at her phone again. Still no answer.

Pacing around her apartment she could not decide what to do. Her heart was slowly but truly breaking.

Why does he not answer?
An hour later settling on the couch with Carrie and the girls and some chocolates, she tried the cliché remedy for heartbreak.

She glanced at her phone. Still no answer. She called him. It didn’t even ring. WHAT? Cold sweat erupted from her every pore.
Time passed slowly. Finally, when she could not bare it any longer, her phone chimed. A message!

We need to talk. 

Yes we do! she replied repressing the urge to use foul language.

Her chest hurt. She felt stressed. This was it then. The distance was a lot, yes, but worth a breakup?

Staring at her phone’s screen, waiting for a reply, the doorbell made her jump.

“Miss, I am here to pick you up for tonight’s dinner. You have an hour to get ready, I will be waiting downstairs.” a nicely dressed chauffeur informed her.

“In a limo? she replied sceptically.

“You’ll see”.

What was going on? Why was there a chauffeur, did she win anything? She was searching her mind for contests she had recently entered. But couldn’t think of anything.

Putting on her favourite dress and a pair of Louboutin heels she felt her stomach grumble. She had completely forgotten to eat anything besides those chocolates.

It was a Rolls-Royce that dropped her off at the town’s most exquisite restaurant. She did not have to wait long before he, her love appeared. With a single red rose in his hand.

“Sorry for the confusion, I did not realise the stress I made you go through, I only managed to read your messages once I arrived”.

She could not believe what she was seeing or even hearing. “What ware you doing here?” she stammered.

“I said we need to talk,” she nodded at his words, “well I am here to do that, I don’t want to be far away from you anymore!”

With those words he dropped to his knees. “Let’s say no to distance!”

She smiled waiting patiently for him to continue.

“Will you live with me?”

“Yes!” but she was hoping for more.

“Will you marry me?”

And with those words all of the pain of the day was washed away.


#BlogBattle entry for this week, word is Distance, 743 Words
Genre: Romance

#BlogBattle is kindly hosted by Rachel Ritchey, who also provides the logo at the top, please check out the other entries and vote for your 3 favourites (once you have read them all).


© Solveig Werner 2015. All rights reserved.

In my head – #BlogBattle

I knew that I found myself deep inside the catacombs of a dream. How did I know you will ask? Well I woke up in the morning, stressed, running from an unknown evil through these dirty and dangerous streets. You can imagine my relief when my mom said it was time to rise and shine just like the sun. I didn’t stay at school long, a very bad headache made me nauseous and made sure that I return into my dream.

And now, far quicker than I had at first expected I am back entrenched inside this dream. Or maybe I should say: NIGHTMARE.

“Heads will roll today! If we do not find the person or thing who committed treachery. All of your heads will roll!” a deep voice shouted into the night. Looking around the corner of the building, I can tell you that it is the newly crowned king of these lands. But why does he want heads to roll? Does he mean my head as well? He cannot have it! Even if only minutes ago my dear head was in agonising pain, as if someone was trying to rip it apart with their bare hands.

I started to spring towards the castle’s old gates towards the town, hoping that no one would see me, but in pink pyjamas that is a difficult mission.

“There, there!” the king started to shout after me, “that’s the thing, the person, the girl you all have to catch!”

Oh no, so I was the hunted here. Why? My head would not let me think, fear started to slow me down, nail my feet to the ground. The king’s hounds started to snap at my heels as I jumped into the river.

“Honey? Are you awake?” wet and cold I opened my eyes, not as I expected on the river’s bank but in my own bed, my mother looked at me with worry.

“I am mom and I would like to stay awake, my head feels so much better now.” I answered, sitting up a bit too quickly. The pain as if someone was trying to jank my head apart reappeared. Oh how was I hoping to stay away from that dream.

“No!” my mother said firmly, “I have just come to change your wet sheets, we don’t want you to catch pneumonia, and then off to bed and sleep again”.

“But mom, I am fine” I lied, trying to ignore my head calling for rest.

“Normally, you try to stay sick for days, and now you want to get up right away. No Missy, that isn’t going to work with me. You have a fever! You need rest! No screens, no books, no nothing. Just sleep!”

I tried to protest, but my head and my mother would not have it as she was tucking me in again.

Her “Sleep well” were only distant words, as if they came from a different world.

There was a carriage waiting for me. “Get in!” a friendly face barked at me. Without hesitation I jumped, and the horses were already galloping, no flying across the well defined pathways.

“Where am I?” I turned to my saviour.

He shot me a puzzling look. “So now are you a witch or a princess? Or a bit of both?”

I did not understand. So he added: “you were wearing pink trousers and a large shirt earlier, and then climbing out of the water you changed into this skimpy blue dress”.

Embarrassed I looked down at myself. My mother must have changed my clothing, I had concentrated so hard on trying to stay awake, that I had not even realised that she had undressed me, scrubbed me and put on a clean nightgown.

“I am just a simple girl, at the wrong place at the wrong time”.

“No, you are not!” was his abrupt answer.

Puzzled I looked at him.

“The new king has decided he wants to kill you”.

I nodded, that detail had not escaped me. “But why?”

“You do not know?” he asked, and went on, “here everyone knows you, we might know you better than you know yourself.”

He whipped the horses to make them gallop quicker. “He wants to cut your head, in hope for him to be free”.

“But this is a dream” I stammered, nervous.

“Yes, it is. By cutting your head, he hopes to gain access to your world, we would of course all be free, and not longer living in your head”.

I tried to back away from him. “And you, what do you plan to do with me?”

“I,” he chuckled, “I plan to protect you, this world, the world inside your head is sacred and should not disappear, we all risk to disappear with the cutting of your head.”

“Oh” I murmured.

After I while I grew curious again, “So how do I make it out of here alive?”

“Don’t worry to much. You only have a small migraine, your fight against the king will be won, once your head wins against this migraine of yours”.

I gazed out of the window, the green grass and even greener forest and fresh air did me so much good. I sensed a smell of broth, a chicken bouillon? I looked into the eyes of the handsome man who had saved me, they quickly morphed into those of my mother.

“Here you go dear, a bit of bouillon, it will give you back your strength.”

With difficulty I sat up in my bed, but to my present surprise, my head was no longer hurting.

“How is your migraine?”

“The evil king has not got me this time” I answered.

She smiled and turing to the door I heard a quiet “kids and their imagination” escape her mouth.


#BlogBattle entry by Solveig Werner
The word for today’s #BlogBattle is “head”, my story has been influenced by memories of horrible migraines and the odd fever dream that I have experienced, as well as a few stories and books that I have read over the years.


#BlogBattle is kindly hosted by Rachel Ritchey, she has been doing so for 6, yes six months now! Congratulations! Please head over to her blog, check out the other entries and vote for your favourites in the poll.

Timeless ~ #BlogBattle

Raising his left wrist to check his watch, James gave out a cry of horror. His beloved mechanical watch, had lost it’s hands, it was dead, no longer ticking.

“Miss,” he said to the young woman sitting next to him, “could you please tell me what time it is?”

She looked at him questioningly, as if she did not understand the question.

“What time is it?” James repeated his question.

“Sir, I am sorry, but I don’t really know what you mean” was all he got as an answer.

Strange, why does she not understand my question? He glanced over onto her tablet, where he expect to see the time indicated, there was just a big smiley.

“Do you know when we will be arriving?” he went on, in hopes that the beautiful blonde would understand this question.

“Well Sir, we will be arriving when we will arrive” she said with a pitiful smile. “For now, we are on the train, live the moment!”

Live the moment, a phrase he had heard many times before. He had always been plotting ahead, trying to plan his future as much as he could. And here, no one seemed to care about the future.

“You are very wise for your age, my child. Can I ask you how old you are?”

She smiled at him, shaking her head “where are you from? You use so many words I have never even heard before.”

“What do you mean?” he asked taken aback, had he asked the wrong question? He was not at all trying to hit on her or something like that, after all James was a foreigner in these strange lands.

“I have never heard the words ‘time’ and ‘age’ before.”

“Oh, er, I see.” he stammered.

After what felt like hours, the train rolled into the station. He stepped out of the wagon, and looked around, his eyes searching for a clock. But there was no clock. Even though this seemed to be a huge train station, he did not see a single person in a hassle, no one seemed stressed or worried.

As the loudspeaker crackled, James sharpened his ears to make out what was said.

“Please, those of you traveling to Losange, please board the train now on platform 16”.  There was no mentioning of when the bloody train would leave.

More and more worried, James hurried over to a newsstand in the big entry hall of the station. Taking a look at the papers, none of them seemed familiar. Worst of all though, there were no dates on the title pages. Glancing through the news, he could not spot a single time the words yesterday, tomorrow, or even last or next year.

Clearing his throat, James approached the man sitting next to the cash register. “Excuse me, I have just arrived. And I have no idea how many hours I have spend on that train of mine. I wanted to ask you for the time, as well as todays date.”

The face of the sales person went blank with puzzlement. “I am not quite sure what you mean.”

“I just want to know if I am late or early for my appointment, thus I wanted to know today’s date, and well the time it is now, is it morning, afternoon? I went to sleep in the train, and I don’t know for how long.”

“Good, for you that you slept, we should always sleep when it is necessary!” the man said with a big grin on his face.

Why does no one understand my questions? James thought to himself.

Minutes later, or at least what James considered to be minutes, he was standing outside of the beautiful station, and right away spotted a limousine driver holding his name on a sign. Climbing into the car, his eyes searched for the clock, a sign that time still existed.

“What time is it?” he asked once more, with a lot less confidence than before.

“Oh, that thing everyone asks me when they come from your world” the chauffeur started answering. “You all worry about the same thing, the thing you call time. Then you guys go on about yesterday, tomorrow, age and what not. But you know, all of those words, don’t exist here.”

James felt his heart racing faster, “what do you mean, these words don’t exist here? You sure have time, days? Don’t you celebrate birthdays and such things?”

“No we don’t” was the brief answer of the young man behind the steering wheel.

After he turned the key, he went on: “Through my job I have learned a few things. Time might still be important for you now, but you will start learning to live without it”.

“How can you say such an atrocity?” James was shocked, a planner by nature, time was sacred.

“You people always regret what you call the past, plan for what you call the future.” James nodded consentingly, as his driver went on, “But, you know. Here these things don’t matter, they don’t exist here we don’t have time, we only have the present moment, we only live now.”

“How do you manage?” James interjected.

“Just listen to me. Days, months, and what do you call them, years? They all don’t exist. Live in the here and now! Live without worrying about your future, live without regretting your past.”

“But how will I know when I will go back home, when my mission here is over?” the impatience in his voice could not be overheard.

“Live in the now, live in the present moment, and then only then you will be able to go back home.”

Dropping James off at his hotel, he added: “and remember, here time does not exist, that’s why you were sent here.”


by Solveig Werner


This week I decided to join Rachel Ritchey’s #BlogBattle, the them this week is Time. Please head over to Rachel’s blog and check out the other entries, and vote for your favourite.

This is the 4th post on my blog that evolves around time, you might 
have fun checking out the others too.