Wake Up Kitty

Stories: Over een gebroken krijger De verhalen "Over een #krijger" is een serie korte #verhalen waarvan de Engelse versie meedoet aan het dagelijkse #vrij-schrijven in 5 minuten op #Steemit. De Nederlandse vertaling is gemaakt voor #yoors. Stories: Over een krijger met pijn Wat er hiervoor gebeurde... Lees meer "Ik ben kapot", zei de krijger, "ik wil dood."  "Waar heeft hij het over", zei het kleine wezen, "het is niet het einde van de wereld, ik hielp hem in nood." "Hij is beslist niet dankbaar", zei de vogel.  "Ik kreeg die nare splinter er uit met gegoochel".  "Ik zei het toch", zei de kleine aap, "hij moet medicijn."  "Kan", zei de slang, "al denk ik dat wat hem dwars zit eerder de zonde zal zijn."  De krijger deed zijn ogen open, slechts voor een tel.  De wijze slang zag er grote angst in, hij wist het wel.  Hij ...

The little warrior went closer, bent forward, showed his neck. "Interesting", the snake said," I doubt the lizard shot at you and I have doubts too if  saving  you is a good thing to do. We already have plenty of liars around here." He thought it might be wiser to answer instead of keeping his mouth shut and think. The snake was able to read his mind and his thoughts were seldom friendly. "Sorry I lied about being shot", the warrior said," I tried to get into the lizard cave, but it was not as simple as I thought, I did not fit in. I got stuck, the splinter took me by surprise and after that the lizard did beat me out of it with a piece of wood. It did not really hurt, but the splinter does." "Well it is out of my hands," the snake said," as you see I have no hands of my own, I believe it is better to ask someone else to give you a hand. The lizard for example or the little monkey. If it stays in there you will seriously get...

Help? Hear, hear! His horrible history! Huge hope he had. Here he hunted her. Hurried, hunting her himself. Hoped he had her. However, he hated her hat. He had hope. He hoped hard. He haunted her! Hungry hunted, hopefully hoped... He hadn't hope, Hope had him! This picture is a #pixabay.com pic. Note: I am a #mobilblogger I write all my content with my #smartphone. This #poem is at # WEKU and #wordpress as well. November 17, 2018

No! It wasn't me. I do not drink. Only empty bottles? That's what you see? Nope, that wasn't me! Honest. It wasn't me. I drink with care. I always start late. I wait till after High Tea. Honestly, that's me! Sure. It wasn't me. It's my twin brother. He has no limit. He does drink for three. For sure, it wasn't me! Trust. It wasn't me. I am not addicted, no alcoholic. I can let it be. Trust me, it wasn't me. Tasting. It wasn't me. I don't drink! Alcohol in a beker? I'm just sipping my tea. That wasn't me! Testing, trying, toasting, cheerin', beer, wine, vodka, gin. Excuses big, Excuses small, It was me who heard them all! This picture is a pixabay.com pic. I am a  #mobileblogger , I write all my content with my smartphone. This post was my entry for a #freewrite contest at #Steemit and been poster there.

The more tales you read the more similarity you will find. I read a lot of tales and still am. It's a pity that also the fairy tales change. They are told much shorter, with less details nowadays. The German brothers Grimm wrote down over 200 fairy tales. One of them is:  One-eye, Two-eyes and Three-eyes. I liked it as I was about 7-8 years old. Mostly because I was fascinated because of the eyes. Imagine you have only 1 eye in the centre of your face or 3 eyes... all people stare at you.. and the only place you are save is at home! The meaning of this story (is there a lesson to learn?) is unclear to me. Who knows you can open my eyes. One-eye, Two-eyes and Three-eyes Once there was a woman who had three daughters, the eldest was called One-eye, because she had only one eye in the middle of her forehead, the second was called Two-eyes, because she had two eyes like other people and the youngest was called Three-eyes, because she had three eyes and her third eye was...

This is the story of Charles a Dutch guy, a daddy exactly and much more.. Are Charles' adventures real or? This ia a series of 18 turbo-tales. A smartass "That smell is terrible', the cat meowed. Her yellow eyes looked at Charles reprovingly, "you stink!" She stretched herself, jumped out of the open window and disappeared into the direction of the neighbours. Charles stepped into the tub, did put a beaten egg on his hair. Egg is great for hair, is what he lately read in a ladies magazine. He did not have much hair, but thanks to the egg that problem would be solved soon. The water still looks clean to me, Charles thought , you know what? I will wash my laundry in it as well. No waste! It will save water and electricity for sure. Every piece of dirty laundry he did put into the bathtub. "What a smartass I am", he said. As he closed the bathroom door, someone was knocking on his front door. Soft at first than louder... ...

No need to see him, already the thought of gave stress. Daily she passed by. Nobody could stand him. He was disgusting. Literally shit outside into every neighbour's garden. The garden shitty head gnome proved it. "Excuse me", a voice said,"it would be great if you could help us out. We've had it with that disgusting human being nearly shitting at every gnome by now!" She wasn't surprised. No need to ask who or what. It was also clear who was talking. The gnome! Thanks God he cleaned himself up. "We need a driver. He needs to leave! We made a plan, moving him out of the country, dumping him at some big cat litter, some desert. How we get him over there?" The more the gnome talked, the more interest she showed. The earthman his temperature was clearly high, his skin colour turned red. "I have been thinking about drowning him in the old well or driving him up to Transylvania... but what if he becomes the "Shitty Vampir...