Tag Archives: storytelling

Blue Water City

Blue Water City, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. “I gotta get out, out of Frac­tal City, clear my head, refresh my synapses, go down to Blue Water City. Blue Water City, so clean you can dip into any pud­dle and come out fresher than the morn­ing dew. Gotta take a dive, make a splash, wash

Wind’s little sister

Wind’s lit­tle sis­ter, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. “Come chil­dren, come gather round, I want to show you some­thing,” mas­ter Wu Shi encour­aged his lit­tle pupils. “Do you know what this is?” he asked. “It’s a flute,” the chil­dren replied. “Oh yes, but it is much more than that. It is a mes­sen­ger. Can you

Her heart fell into the lake

Her heart fell into the lake, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. She beat her chest, the pain chok­ing her, gasp­ing for air. Heartache. Why does it have to hurt so much? Will there ever be hope? Ever be a bright light at the end of the dark tun­nel? She was cry­ing, her dark hair sway­ing

A gathering of stones

A gath­er­ing of stones, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. A gath­er­ing of stones Of var­i­ous shades and tones From ashes to ashes and dust to dust They’ve been put into an Ash tree’s trust All of them planted there Set there with much thought and care Long ago, by writer’s hand At this site they

Childhood dreams of yore

Worlds of child­hood dreams, hid­den from us in plain sight, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. Child­hood dreams of yore Hid­den amongst for­est’ trees Walk slow to find them © Thorsten Becker

Abenteuer einer kleinen Maus

Aben­teuer einer kleinen Maus, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. Aben­teuer einer kleinen Maus — Adven­tures of a lit­tle mouse was the title of a story I wrote back in high school. It was a writ­ing assign­ment by our Ger­man teacher, I believe in 7th grade. We received a gen­eral out­line (a mouse and a cat

Unicorn” whispers a butterfly passing by

Uni­corn” whis­pers a but­ter­fly pass­ing by, orig­i­nally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. Walk­ing under the set­ting sun, a stroll into the mists of the pass­ing day. Last light break­ing through the branches of twisted trees along the path, the wind plays with the dust under my feet. I look over green pas­tures framed by wooden fences.