marți, martie 20

I AM not such a "mini" album

Hello crafty friends!

Im back with an album that i started in February and i managed to finish only now in March :). I know, what kind of a crafter am i when it takes me so long to finish an album? Well, you know - that type of crafter ;). 
Anyway, it's an album i love, i will have a hard time selling it. I have used mainly papers from Simple Stories's latest collections, a bit from Carta Bella as well. The album is made of tall envelopes and it's pretty big: 11" x 7,75" x 1,75". It has place for at least 100 photos and journaling, of course. I still have to decorate most of the inserts.
One good thing i did is that i managed to make a tutorial for this album back in February when i was ready with the basic structure. Here are some photos with it, hope you like it so much as to give it a go:

Doesn't it look lovely :)?

Here you have the walkthrough:

I will submit this album to the following challenges:

I will be seeing you soon, i hope. Until then, have a good time!

sâmbătă, martie 17

1st ReCreative Meeting at 12 Doispe

Hello everyone!

Im back after a lovely evening spent teaching some lovely ladies to create easel cards. Im very happy to let you know that we have managed to move the ReCreative Meetings from home and to make them more available to the public. Our host is now 12 Doispe, the coolest host there could be, there where we had our 1st exhibition 4 years ago (scroll down for English) and where we might have a new one this year ;).
I've held these workshops before, but then there were dedicated to moms and kids. These ReCreative Meetings are for adults though :). We were 7 in total, 5 of which created: i was busy teaching and Magnus wrote on his book ;). We made easel-cards and used the "I AM" paper collection from Simple Stories, one of my top favorite paper designers ever. 
Im really burning for scrapbooking and i hope to get more people to join our workshops. Next workshop will take place on the 29th of March and then we will create Easter cards in a vintage style. Not sure yet what card we will make, but they will be nice, i can guarantee you this ;). Now i leave you with some photos from last night, the rest you can find here:

Until next time, have a lovely weekend!

marți, martie 13

Intalnirile ReCreative de la Doispe

Va amintiti de Doispe, barul unde am avut prima noastra expozitie acum 4 ani? Well, istoria se repeta, astia stim bine cu totii, nu ;)? Doar ca nu 100%. Tot despre arta e vorba, numai ca nu de mixed media sau pictura, ci de Intalnirile noastre ReCreative care se vor muta la 12 Doispe, asa, macar pana se face vremea de plaja, si doar o data la doua saptamani, joia de la 17.30 ;).

Atelierele sunt dedicate strict noua, adultilor, fiind o invitatie deschisa la creativitate, relaxare si socializareAsa ca daca esti pasionat/a de handmade, daca simti ca vrei sa incerci ceva nou, ca ai nevoie de un hobby sau pur si simplu, sa te relaxezi, ai toate motivele sa incerci ceva nou - macar pana se face vremea de plaja ;).  De ce nu ai incepe deci prin a sarbatori primavara creand ceva frumos?! Noi vom confectiona felicitari-sevalet de primavara, in culori vesele, pentru un plus de energie ;). Vrei sa ni te alaturi? Apa plata si cafeaua sunt incluse in pret, iar tu vei pleca acasa cu o felicitare originala si vesela.

Ce iti trebuie:
- 2 coli A4 de carton colorat, gros
- banda dublu-adeziva, foarfeca, rigla, creion
- nasturasi, flori din hartie, fluturasi

Ce aducem noi:
- trimmer/ghilotina
- hartie imprimata tematic
- instruire
- 1 apa plata + 1 cafea/persoana

Locuri disponibile: 15
Varsta minima : 16 ani

Cost: 25 lei

Te asteptam! 

luni, martie 12

All Occasions Album - part 2 (video)

Hello, crafty peeps!

What's up ;)? Gave you pretty much to read and nice stuff as well, right? Hope you liked it and that you will get back to finish the stories that started around here ;).
Anyways, now im back with the 2nd part of the "All Occasions Scrapbook", which contains wedding pages, and then Easter, Halloween, Christmas and heritage pages, each of them in more than 1 style.

Writing this, i just realized that i posted the video one day earlier, not on a Tuesday like i planned to, and also that I did not include a Valentine's Day page in this album. But i think i put the balance right with the "Love is all around" album i made this year :).
Well, i won't keep you any longer; long day for me tomorrow, so i must dash ;). Here is the demo video:

I will get back to you as soon as possible, as i have to tell you what happened at the auction i was telling about here ;).
Until then, have an easy week and lovely weather :)!

THE DEATH OF A BLOGGER, part 3 - by JMS (4)

A blogger has been killed, a Swedish Go player is implicated, and the police seems to want to rule the killing as an accident.

Chapter 3
Maria Popescu was enjoying herself at a small party, it was nothing big, a couple of bottles of wine and some good company, made up mostly of journalists and writers, when her phone rang.

Maria,” she answered.

Maria, Cornel here.”

Cornel was one of the few childhood friends she had managed to keep in contact with. He was always the go-to-guy when she was writing an article about corruption, as he was working for the Romanian anti-corruption agency.

What has happened,” Maria asked, as normally he did not call her, she called him.

Marius has died, looks like he was killed.”

Oh god,” she exclaimed loud enough to hush down the other party participants.

Did the Swede kill him? He was supposed to meet some Swedish Go player, was it him?” she asked in a voice she could not stop from shaking.

No, it does not look like it. The police, for some reason, are eager to rule it as natural causes. If they ever run it as a murder investigation, they will go after him, but he seems innocent as far as I can tell.”

Are they doing a post-mortem? Can I see him?”

Maria, I really can't stay on the phone, I have already said too much. I just wanted to let you know what had happened,” and after that he ended the call.

Marius had been one of the persons who started the “The Kassandra News of Romania”, the other person had been Maria.

They started the blog as a way to write in-depth articles about corruption and abuse of power. It had not been easy, money was always short, and usually they had to take on other jobs to make ends meet. They had managed to keep the blog going, and slowly people discovered their site. As they got more readers, the advertisers got more interested, bringing them some money, not enough, but better than nothing.

To hear that Marius was dead came like a shock, not only had they been colleagues, but they had also been friends since college.

What has happened?” someone asked.

Marius died,” she replied.

How?” another person asked.

Listen, I need to get some air, excuse me,” she said. The apartment suddenly felt small and claustrophobic.

Maria grabbed her coat and headed out, and the fresh night air mitigated her spinning head somewhat. She had been crying without actually noticing it, but now she felt the salty tears that had run down her cheeks. She wiped them off, and saw a mixture of tears and mascara on her fingers.

Her journalistic instinct started to kick in, it was a way to detach herself from the grief. A way to handle it without actually handling it at all, but for now it was either that, or she would break down.

So, she started to ask herself similar questions that Åke had.

First, Maria wondered why Marius had been killed. They had been working on political corruptions, voter fraud, scams with EU funds, but all for low level persons, and nothing that warranted a murder.

She then realised that she did not know if he had been killed or not. As a journalist she needed confirmation.

Having written a fair amount of articles about crime in the city, Maria had contacts in both the police department, and at the morgue.

Who can help me with this? Who can I call?” she thought, as she walked back and forward outside the apartment building.

She flipped through her phone contacts, hoping that some name would jump out, and when she saw the name Cristi, she had whom to call.

He worked in the city morgue as an assistant, and she had had a pretty good working relationship with him in the past, so it was worth a shot.

She pressed his number, and waited while the phone rang. The phone rang more than 10 times before he finally answered, slightly out of breath and sounding irritated.


Hello Cristi, Maria Popescu here.”

I was wondering when you would call. Is it about Marius?”

Yes. Do you know what happened to him? Did someone kill him, or was it an accident?”

Listen, Maria, I can not really talk about this,” he said, sounding suddenly more nervous than irritated.

Did you do a post mortem yet? Please, Cristi, I have to know what happened to him?” she pleaded.

He did not say anything for a while, but just as she was about to ask him again, he broke the silence.

The police has ruled it natural causes.”

Did you do an autopsy, if so, what did it show?”

The body has already been removed from here,” Cristi replied.

Taken by whom? Marius did not have any family.”

I don't know,” he replied.

Was it natural causes?”

I have to go. I suggest you don't start digging into this, for your own sake. Don't call me again,” and with that he ended the call.

Cristi had sounded stressed, and she knew he was not a person that easily got scared, so what had rattled him now? She could guess some from what he had said, but even more from what he had not said. People seemed scared, which meant that someone in power had started putting pressure on them. That meant that Marius had been killed, and they were trying to cover it up. Had it been a normal accident, Cristi would have said as much without hesitation, but he had hesitated, confirming that it was a murder.

Now that Maria knew, with some certainty, that Marius had been killed, she needed to find out why, not only for his sake, but also for her own. Had he been killed for something they worked on, she would be next in line, a realisation that sent a chill up her spine.

She needed to get to their office, well, her office now, and start going through any documentation they had, as whatever answer she could find, she would find there.

Maria went back in, calling a taxi as she went up the stairs.

The host, Claudia, approached her directly, “I am so sorry, Maria! Do you want to sleep here instead of going home?”

No, I will be OK. I need some time alone, but thank you so much for the offer,” she replied.

The sci-fi author Gabriel put a hand on her shoulder, and asked if he at least could give her a lift?

No, Gabriel, honestly I will be fine, I already called a taxi.”

More people approached her with similar offers, and as they surrounded her, she felt the claustrophobia coming back.

Please, I will call you all tomorrow, I promise, but for now I just need some time alone.”

She escaped into the bathroom, where she removed the streaks of make-up left on her cheeks. Taking some deep breaths, Maria said quickly goodbye to everyone, leaving the apartment as fast as she could, to avoid any additional comforting questions she just could not handle at the moment.

The taxi was already waiting for her, so Maria jumped in, gave the address to the run-down apartment that used as an office, and ignored the taxi drivers attempts at small talk.

As always, the traffic was heavy, but not crazy, so within 20 minutes they reached the area of Rahova, where they had their office. Not the best neighbourhood in the city, but the rent was low, so it had suited them fine.

The taxi slowed down and stopped, but she remained sitting, suddenly reluctant to get out of the car.

We are here, that will be 15 lei,” the taxi driver said a bit impatiently, wanting to catch his next fare.

Wait a moment,” Maria asked him, as she kept looking at the street and the houses.  She had asked the taxi driver to stop some 50 meters before the entrance to her building, she did not really know why she had done that, but now Maria was glad she had.

The driver kept asking if she was getting out or not, so she handed him 20 lei, and asked him to wait a bit more.

There was a car parked on the right side of the street, blocking the entrance to a parking lot. It was not uncommon for people in Bucharest to park all over the place, but usually they tried to avoid blocking bigger parking lots, for the simple reason that doing so would get too many people angry. She watched the car, it had heavy tinted windows and looked newer than most other cars in the area. A man smoking, dressed in dark clothes, kept pacing up and down the pavement, keeping somewhat in the shadows.

She watched him until he was approached by a girl, they exchanged some words, and then walked off together.

I am getting paranoid,” she thought.

Maria still did not feel comfortable stepping out of the car. If someone was after her, this would be the perfect place, dark and mostly deserted.

No, I will come back tomorrow instead,” she thought.

I changed my mind, please take me to the hotel Libertatii at Piata Alba Iulia,” she told the taxi driver, who shook his head and pulled out of the street.

She had partly given into her paranoia, but as the saying goes, “You’re only paranoid until proven right,” so maybe it was better  to be safe than sorry.

The next day, Maria woke up pretty early, the time on her mobile phone showed 7 am. As she did not feel sleepy, she got out of bed and headed for the shower. The man she had met at the hotel, and later slept with, kept snoring. Maria was glad he did not wake up, she really had no interest in talking with him or to sleep with him again. She had just needed to feel a warm body next to her, and that was all.

She took a quick shower, got dressed, and as she opened the door, the man who's name she could not remember woke up.

Come back to bed, honey,” he said, lifting the covers.

Sorry, have to run. Just let yourself out, will you,” and with that she left the room, and forgot about the man as soon as the door closed behind her.

She flipped through the city’s biggest newspaper as she ate her breakfast, looking for any articles about Marius, but the paper had nothing about him.

After finishing her breakfast, she checked out and asked the hotel to call her a taxi.

Only outside, waiting for the taxi, did it really strike her that Marius was dead. She would never hear his stupid jokes again, never enjoy the hunt after news with him. Never again sleep on his sofa when she felt low, or get those drunk calls where he just told her what a fine girl she was.

Her eyes started to tear up as she thought, “What happened to you, Marius?”

Yesterday she had managed to block that out, but as soon as she let those thoughts in, the grief came back even more forcefully. No, she could not let that happen, she would not let Marius down by breaking down herself.

The taxi stopped in front of her, and she pulled herself together, got back into work mode, and told the driver to take her to one of the local newspapers in the city.

She had a part-time job there, and she was supposed to work today. Maria could have called, but she had left her laptop at work, and she also needed to explain to her boss why she could not work today. Maybe she could convince Marga, her boss, not to fire her, even though, knowing her, most likely she wouldn't.

Her job was mind-numbingly boring, writing small articles about famous people, but she needed the money.

It was not a pleasant visit, she got her laptop, and then Marga shouted at her for a solid 15 minutes, before she was told to sit down and wait to see if she would be fired or not.

She sat there patiently for one hour, had time to get really angry, which was not a bad emotion, as it kept her mind of the grief. She stood up to leave, something Marga noticed, opened her door and shouted that she should sit down and wait, but Maria had had enough of Marga's mind games.

Fuck off, you can take your crappy jobs and shove them up your pussy for all I care,” she yelled back, and kept walking.

Behind her, Marga kept shouting what a whore she was, that she would never get another job in this city, and other even less flattering things. Marga was not used to being defied, and Maria smiled as she walked away, thinking “Damn, that felt good!”

To be continued... 

© 2018 by J.M Svanström 

sâmbătă, martie 10

THE DEATH OF A BLOGGER, part 2 - a story by JMS (3)

Chapter 2

At the police station, Åke was put in an interrogation room and made to wait for several hours. When someone finally came, it was a tired looking man in a suit, a uniformed police and a woman. The man in the suit sat down as did the woman, the uniformed policeman leaned against the door and kept looking at Åke.
The man said something to the woman who translated it into a question for Åke, “So tell me what you were doing at the café, Mr Nilsson?”

Åke explained how he was supposed to meet Marius for a game of Go, how he had been late but found a table with a Go board set up in the café, so he had sat down and waited. When Marius did not turn up he had gone to the bathroom and found him bleeding, so he had ran out and told the man behind the bar to call an ambulance and the police.

You said to one of the officers that you bumped into another man?”

Yes, on the stairs, he seemed to be in a great hurry. I did not notice his face as he looked away, but he was wearing a dark suit, medium hight, black hair.”

The woman continued, “The barman said that he did not see any such man. What do you have to say about that?”

As she interpreted the question, the man in the suit leaned forward and watched Åke intently.

But he must have seen him!” he exclaimed.

The man must have passed the bar when he left, and the barman was sitting behind the bar when I came down so he must have seen him!”

Maybe you just dreamed up this man, maybe it was you who were angry with Marius?” the detective continued in English.

No, he was there, you have to believe me,” Åke said again, not liking at all where this was going. If there had been no other man, the only suspect would be him or the barman, and as a foreigner he would for sure be the main suspect.

Ask the teenagers that were outside. I asked them for direction, they must have seen the man exiting just as I had entered the café,” he pleaded.

A quick conversation in Romanian between the detective and the policeman. The detective left for 20 minutes before he returned and sat down again.

For a while he did not say anything and Åke's nervousness grew with the silence. What if the kids had not seen anything, what if they had not even given a statement? “This looks bad, really bad,” he thought.

So Mr Nilsson,” and then he paused again, playing with Åke like a cat would with a mouse, a psychological game to break down the guilty and make the innocent feel the jitters.

Finally he did continue, “The teenagers confirmed that a man rushed out of the 'The Last Flamingo' just after you entered. Seems at least that part of your story is correct.”

He sighed, read Åke's statement again, folded the paper and stood up.

You are free to go for now. Don't leave Bucharest until further notice,” the unnamed detective said, something Åke Nilsson agreed to with a firm nod, feeling much relieved.

How is Marius, will he be OK? Will you catch the man who attacked him?” he blurted out.

Why do you think he was attacked?” the detective replied as he stood at the door.

Well, there was a lot of blood, and he had a bad injury to his head that did not look like it had come from a fall.”

As I said, you are free to go, but don't leave the city just yet. We will be in touch.”

Åke stood up, but under an irresistible urge to keep talking he asked, “Do you have any suspects?”

Why would we need any suspects, it looks like an accident to me. But don't worry, we will turn every stone, and if we ever need a suspect you will be the first one to know, you can be sure of that.”

Åke wanted to keep asking questions, but he managed to stop himself. Something told him that pressing this issue would not be in his best interest. So he thanked them, as being polite could never hurt, and then got escorted out of the police station.

The policeman warned him again not to leave Bucharest, and Åke again agreed.

He was worried he had gotten mixed-up in something bad, and he felt like they were pointing the finger at him. If he stirred the pot, maybe he would end up as the main ingredient in the stew of “Lets find someone guilty,” but he also needed to find out what had happened.

Åke's mind started working on the part that might give him some answers, and that was, why had Marius been killed?

He had a way to work that made him very good at his job, and he used the same technique now, he simply subdivided any given problem until it was small enough to be solved, and he would do that enough times until the overlaying problem got solved by the sub-solutions.

So, as he was leaving the police station and jumping into the taxi he did not dream of alcohol, or even think about it. Åke thought about the problem of a dead friend he never met, and why had he been killed?

What can I do that the police are not much better at doing?” was his first thought.

His second thought was, “Who was the man I met in the stairs? If he killed Marius, why did he do it? Why kill a simple Go player?”

As the Taxi pulled into the small street where his hotel was located, his mind had reached a small enough problem he could work with, “What had Marius been working on that would threaten someone so much they had to kill him?”

This question he might be able to answer, if he could find out what he was working with. Åke and Marius had never really talked about their respective work, but he knew that Marius had been a blogger, and that was a starting point.

Thinking about this he entered the hotel and walked up to front desk to get his key.

Of course, Mr Nilsson. I would however require your passport,” the young man behind the counter said.

My passport, why? Did you not copy the information when I checked in?” asked Åke a bit perplexed by the request.

I am sorry sir, but the police have requested that we keep your passport for the time being.”

The man seemed to feel a bit awkward about the request, maybe his imagination was running wild, or he was just embarrassed to ask.

Åke Nilsson had the urge to start explaining, like most people would, that he was no criminal, that he was just a witness and so on. But as he was about to start talking, he instead found himself handing over his passport.

What would be the point to explain,” he thought.

The man would most likely not care, and if he did, anything Åke would say would only paint him in dimmer light. The “No smoke without fire” was so ingrained that trying to explain would only cause even more virtual smoke, making the non-existent fire even bigger.

So he handed over his passport and got the room key in return, just as normal, except the normal pleasantries had been excluded.

Åke, however, did not linger on that for long, as he reached the stairs he was already back on the problem he had put before himself.

He had not brought his laptop to the meeting with Marius, and the police had not asked if he had one, if they had he most likely would have had to hand it over to them. But now it was still in his room, and that was the tool he need to work on the sub-problem.

In the room he threw his jacket on the bed, kicked off his shoes, walked to the small mini-bar and took out one of those small bottles of whiskey you only find in hotels and on planes. As he poured the drink in a plastic cup he started up his computer which did not take more than a few seconds, the benefit of a SSD hard drive.

For once he did not really need alcohol, but he drank it anyway, out of habit, as he started up his web browser and email client.

He searched after the emails from Marius, as he though he had seen a link in the signature at some point. Going through the emails he worked himself backwards towards the earliest ones, and finally he did indeed find a signature with a link to a blog, “The Kassandra News of Romania.”

Clicking on the link he got taken to a site, a WordPress blog from the look of it. It had several photos, and a layout that made it look like a newspaper, but what the articles said Åke did not understand, they were all in Romanian.

To get a grasp of the content, he used a machine translation web page that did an adequate translation, so he at least got a grasp of the content. The translation was of course littered with grammatical errors, like all automatic machine translations are, but it did a good enough job for Åke Nilsson.

The latest article seemed to be about corruption in Romanian, swindling EU funds and connection to people in high places.

He clicked on the link and got an error, “404 Not found.”

So Åke hit the back button and pressed update, thinking that someone was working on the site, but he got the same error again.

That's strange,” he thought, and did another refresh of the web browser, but got the same error again. The domain, or the site, had been taken down.

Have they blocked my access,” he said out loud, feeling a bit paranoid.

He started up his Thor browser, a way to get around most Internet blocking, but he again got the same error, the website had been taken offline.

Why would anyone take down a blog just a couple of hours after the death of the owner, or one of its owners,” Åke thought out loud.

He made sure to save the web pages that had been cached when the site was still up, and then as he was about to move the computer off his bed his phone rang.

He struggled to get the mobile phone out of the pocket, and it took five rings from the withheld number before he managed to answer.

After a swipe and a press he said, “Åke.”

A voice started speaking, “Don't meddle. Go home if you know what is best for you. Accidents can happen so easily,” and after that the call ended, leaving Åke Nilsson with a metallic taste in his mouth, the taste of fear.

He sat there for a long time holding his phone, thinking what he should do. The clock showed 21:30, too late to call the police he thought.

Why would anyone try to scare me, I don't know anything.”
Then he remembered the man he had passed in the stairs. If Marius was killed, he was most likely the killer, and then Åke the only real witness.
Would the man now come after me to clean-up,” Åke thought, as he stood up and put the security chain on the door.
The mini-bar provided several other small bottles of alcohol, that he finished in quick succession as he watched the door. Finally he fell asleep, still looking at the handle and the security chain.

To be continued... 

© 2018 by J.M Svanström  

joi, martie 8

THE DEATH OF A BLOGGER, part 1 - a story by JMS (2)

Chapter 1

At Piata Regina Maria Åke Nilsson stumbled up some crumbling concrete stairs, he was dying for a drink, and this non-stop shop would have what he needed. Åke was one of the few really great IT architects, some called him a genius even though he himself would never have done so. Maybe he was gifted in his field, but what he really was, was a drunk, an alcoholic, and he knew it. Too many late night business meetings, those early pick-me-up to fix the hangovers that only got worse with age. Now he was in Romania, for a business meeting as a pretext, but in reality it was to indulge in the only thing he cared for except alcohol, the game of Go. He had wriggled his way out of the customary visit to one of the strip clubs. Not that he did not like to watch naked women, he did, but those places were just so depressing. He always ended up getting really drunk, paying a fortune for it, and falling asleep at his table, something he could do much cheaper at home.

He put his hand on the door, ready to go in and get a nice bottle of cheap whisky for the night, but before he pulled the handle he said out loud, “Fuck this,” scaring an older lady passing by in the process.

Åke let go of the handle, inhaled the air flavoured fumes from a busy street, and let go. If he would go in, he would buy a bottle, get drunk, and miss his meeting, he knew himself that much at least. So instead of pulling the handle, he dragged out the map of Bucharest he had in his pocket. Åke was supposed to meet Marius, the Go playing blogger he used to play against online, this evening.

Letting his now shaky finger follow the streets, he saw that he needed to follow boulevard Libertatii, take a right down boulevard Natiunile Unite and, “Bob’s your uncle I am in the old city.”

He cast a last longing glance at the shop harbouring all those nice bottles, shook his head to get that idea out of his mind.

He started walking, focusing on the movement of his feet and so pushed the voice in his head that screamed for a drink. It really was an easy walk, not a problem at all. The streets were of course dark, the pavement had loose stones that made him stumble, and some deep potholes he managed to avoid, but passing the gigantic Parliament building made up for that.

As he entered the Old Centre he saw that he had 30 minutes before he was supposed to meet Marius at the café “The Last Flamingo”. He checked the street on the map, should not be too hard to find, and so he stomped off to get there early. He looked forward to the game and the conversation, but even more he longed for the beers. His hands were shaking and he felt light headed with a thumping headache pounding his temples, but all that would soon be cured.

20 minutes later he had gotten totally lost. All the streets looked the same, so Åke Nilsson had managed to walk in a number of concentric circles, each one taking him past the same street he had already passed before.

What the fuck, I don't have time for this,” and with that thought he approached the first person he met, asked for direction, and got none, the person did not speak English. Two persons later he finally found a group of teenagers that were helpful and pointed him in the right direction. It was not hard for them, the café was just behind his back, he had passed it at least twice before without noticing it.

Thanking them as they laughed at his stupidity, he cast a glance at his watch, seeing he was now 10 minutes late instead of 20 minutes early.

The front door opened up to a steep stairs leading down, he bumped into a suit-wearing-man, that looked away as Åke asked him to watch out. Down the stairs a rather large room opened up, divided by small alcoves, and a bar counter on the left.

Can I have a beer?” he asked directly. The man behind the bar looked bored, but handed him a bottle of Heineken.

How about a glass?” but that question did not give him a glass, so he simply took one himself from the counter.

I am supposed to meet a friend, Marius, has he arrived yet?”

The man said something in Romanian that Åke did not understand, so he took his beer and glass, and started checking the booths one by one, but they were all empty. He did however see a Go board together with bags of black and white stones at one table.

Guessing that not many Go players would be in this place at this time, he sat down, poured his beer, drank it, and waited.

Marius did not show up, “He must be in the toilet,” he thought, so went to get another beer, patting his own back for the fact that he had time to drink two beers before Marius showed up.

15 minutes later, Åke was still sitting and waiting.

He headed for the toilet, both to relieve himself, but also to see if Marius was there. Pushing the door open it go stuck, so he pushed it harder, something moved, and the door finally opened, showing the crumpled down body on the floor.

Marius, are you ok,” asked Åke, and bent down, only then did he see the puddle of blood on the tile floor. He turned over the body, the neck rolled free like it was on a ball bearings, and when he saw the face, he also so the small red hole in the forehead.

To be continued... 
© 2018 by J.M Svanström

Happy Women Day to us all!

 May we always have the Spring in our souls!