Terese Mörtvik

Lugn Lördagskväll
Införskaffade lite nagellack och läppstift idag. Tyckte jag behövdes. Det är så länge sedan jag har målat naglarna så jag tänker inte visa er resultatet, men jag får väl öva lite. Det börjar gå mot vår. Idag invigde jag skinjackan, så nu börjar jag vilja mixtra med smink, vara till frissan och sånt.
Ha en skön kväll!
Ett försök till komedi - Flash Fiction - Bittersweet Goodbye
As he opened the refrigerator, Ben tried to avoid looking at the bottom shelf. He knew that there had been a piece of gourmet cheese sitting there once upon a time. It was left over from a research party, to which one of his friends had brought a very expensive Merlot, along with some fruit, crackers and other wrapped pieces of cheese that he’d frankly never even heard about before. He’d have happily continued to live in ignorance about the luxuries of a ‘real French dessert’ as Michel had called it. But when the whole evening had cost more than Ben made in a month and Michel had looked so incredibly devastated at the thought that he might not like the extravagant gift, he couldn’t do anything but accept it all with a smile.

Thank all the gods that Cheryl and Henri were very enthusiastic about cheese; that had left Ben and Meg to keep away, far, far away from the toxic looking dairy products. The leftovers had still been deposited lovingly in Ben’s kitchen though, much to his chagrin. He’d shoved it all into the fridge, hoping that on Michel’s next visit he could…ehrm, offer it to him in some nice way that didn’t mean Ben himself actually had to eat any of the stinky mess. Trouble was that Michel had had to leave on a dig in Egypt; apparently someone had found another lost pyramid or some such nonsense. Ben was all for revealing the secrets of the ages, but damn it what was he going to do with the cheese?

Nothing was the answer. Always hoping someone would come along who enjoyed the French delicacy Ben kept it in the refrigerator, indefinitely. Unfortunately not even Ben’s powers of procrastination could last him forever and after the second night in a row of having cheese monsters crawling out of his kitchen to devour him he knew it was time to do something. That didn’t mean he could just be rational about it, put on a pair of gloves, pinch his nose and deal. That was for sissies; Ben was going to at least have breakfast first, even if it killed him. Which is might very well do, considering how contaminated the air in his fridge had to be by now.

Fortune favors the brave, Ben thought and closed the refrigerator door after having extracted his breakfast material. With a sense of disappointment however he knew that it would be sitting on the table untouched for a while yet. He just couldn’t do it; those cheese monsters were still too vivid in his sleep deprived mind and he needed this over with. He needed it done.

Sighing again and closing his eyes for a brief moment to gather courage Ben opened the fridge, brought out the whole bundle of cheese all at once while carefully holding his breath and then realizing he had to put it on the hall counter while he opened the front door. He could hardly just throw the stuff in the trash after all; it would stink up the apartment in no time. So with a pained grimace Ben put the bundle on the hall counter and opened the door, taking a careful breath of air outside before returning to the counter. He picked the offending package up, carried it all the way to the container at the back of the house, swooning once as he had to take just one more breath to make it the whole walk.

 Then, with a huff of expelled air Ben dumped his burden in the container and watched in satisfaction the small pieces of…mold fall into distant memory with every tumble down the walls of rubble piled inside. For some strange reason he kept hearing the opera song Nessun Dorma  play in his mind, especially the words –Vincero.
He’d taken his victory over the cheese; it was over and done with. Finally Ben could get back to his normal existence and forget all about those kitchen monsters.

But I’ve still got to clean out the fridge… Blanching at the thought Ben hurriedly left the alley before he fainted from the mix of the odor coming from the container and the horrific imagery in his mind. Friendship or no, he was never accepting cheese as a gift again. Ever.


Flash fiction kallas historier som är mellan 100 och 500 ord långa.
Me & My Chair
Fotat på Trädgårdsföreningen i Göteborg

Caféstolar är ganska opraktiska, men himla, himla fina. Det här är fotat vid Rosenfesten på Trädgårdsföreningen för några år sedan. Är man ute efter stilleben så är ensamma stolar en fin klassiker.