Portfolio

Writing Portfolio

Tamara Hagspihl

t_hagspihl@web.de

tamaradelaclark.blogspot.com

 

Table of Contents

A Tale of Storms (A myth why storms happen)

Highway from Hell (A shortstory about a roadtrip)

The Mirror Sea (A song and a limerick)

The Bone Conductor (A ledgend of a man)

Of Chocolate and Mafiosi (A shortstory about a illegal devlivery) 

 

A tale of storms

A long, long time ago, there was one special wind named Zethrine.
He loved himself very much. And he was perfectly happy with himself. He traveled around the lands and grew very wise, for people confided in him and told him all kinds of secrets.
All they had to do was whisper them into the wind and Zethrine would listen to them. Never would he give away anything someone gave to him. But one day the great queen of Caligula gave him a terrible secret that led to his doom.
It wasn’t the secret that harmed him, but the person who held it.
For the queen fell in love with Zethrine. Being neither interested in her nor interested in staying a long time in the same place, he declined her confession and left with her secret.
The queen, however, could not forget him and went to a powerful mage and asked for Zethrine to be split into two, so she could be with one and the other one could keep traveling and collecting secrets.
Everone could be happy. The mage obeyed her and Zethrine was ripped into two separate beings that the queen named Zeth and Rine.
Neither the one nor the other cared for the queen.
All they wanted was to be together.
They were inseparable, always holding each other.
If they could not become one again, they just wanted to be together, no matter what. So the queen went to the mage again and wished for something to keep them apart and separate them even further.
The winds that used to accompany Zethrine wherever he would go started to pull and push the separated beings away from one another. Zeth, it blew to the far north where all he could see was snow and ice. Rine was blown into the deep south, where Jua burned his skin and nothing but dry land was to be seen. 
Weren’t it for the yearning for their missing part, both of them could have died. But they pulled through and as soon as they were together again, they’d be thrust apart once more. 
The people started to call them the north and south wind, for whenever they flew above them, heat or coldness would follow.
They never gave up on finding the other. Ever.
So the great queen visited the mage a third time and wished for terrible things to happen, as soon as one would touch the other.
The next time Zeth and Rine met, the winds started to swirl around them and as soon as they grabbed each other's hands, green sparks thrust forward and hit a tree under them. They however did not let go of the other until the winds pulled them apart again. Now, every time they meet, bolts of green light shoot across the sky and you can hear the growling of the great queen, even if she died long ago. When people see this, they call out: The winds are dancing again.

 

Highway from hell

The moon turned red an hour ago.
Tracy still explains how this was a natural occurrence and blah blah blah. Darren just turns the radio up.
The red light makes the canyons left and right of the street look pretty cool though. Almost everything looks either like it is covered in blood or like it is part of a red light district. Pretty metal.
“So, are we just not gonna talk about this?”
Urgh, of course Josh is the one to break the perfect shield of pretending. I open the window on my side and let the dry wind blow between the space of my fingers.
“Why are we here?”, he keeps talking.
“Because Darren couldn’t just let this fucking idea go and we, as his fucking friends, support his fucking ideas, even if they are bullshit.”
Nobody has anything to say against my perfect summary of this situation. None of us really wanted to be here.
But Darren… well it’s hard to say no to him.
Darren Puppy-Eye Collins. I gave him that name, when we first met.
My brother from another mother. Runaway, street criminal and general asshole. So we had a lot in common.
Don't remember when we met Josh, but he was running his parents store at the time and Tracy was a student at some university, we met her here. She never told us how she got to this place.
“Got the beer?” First time Darren opens his mouth on our little trip to the big gates. “Sure do.” Because of the fucking box I can’t stretch out my feet.

“I don't miss the taste of beer one bit.”
No one asked you, Tracy.
I didn't actually say that. I'm trying to be nicer to Tracy, she is a good girl.
“I still think this is a bad idea!” Josh pushes his face between the seats. The red moonlight flickers over his always slightly twitching eyes and the scar on his neck. Wonder if this is what got him here.
I still carry my ticket all the time, the last syringe I wanted to take before getting clean. When I think about it this way, Darren still wears the old leather jacket with the bullet holes.
I guess we all hold on to the past in one way or another.
There went the sign that said: “Leaving Deadland, please turn around.”
But our car wouldn't turn around tonight.
Fuck the authoritys.
Fuck signs.
But still. “So...you really wanna do this, Collins?”
Darren nods. Urgh, it's so annoying when he stops talking like this. “What exactly are you missing? The impending doom of global warming? The injustice of a corrupt government, or maybe just shitty parents that kick you out if you no longer fit into their perfect view of the world?”
He just glances over. With this specific look.
“I'm just saying that life is a shitshow, man. We can be happy that we are done with it.” Tracy begins biting her nails. She does that a lot when other people are fighting, or she feels uncomfortable.
“But, hey, if you want to visit the old mortal coil, that's cool. Just don't get your hopes up. Like a very wise woman once said: Nobody dies a virgin, life fucks us all.”
In the backseat Josh started to nervously laugh. “
“Pretty sure that is not a common saying… but Charlotte has a point, life… is nothing but sorrow.”

Hate when she calls me that, it's Charlie, never Charlotte. Well, Darren doesn’t seem too happy with her words, his grip around the wheel tightens.
“You just don't get what I'm trying here. Look around!”
We look around.
Canyons and desert as far as you could see.
Deadland wasn't the nicest place I've been to, but it beat this view any day. Everything seemed so… dead. Ha, good one.
“I don't want to end like this, I don't want to stay like this for the rest of my ...”

“Life?”

Good one as well. Who knew that Tracy had a side that could tell jokes. “Forget it! We are almost there...”
He isn’t wrong.
The red horizon is cut through by the giant wall that surrounded this area of the afterlife.
The only way in and out: The giant fucking gate, guarded by a giant fucking monster. When the sun was up, all kinds of people constantly came through so Darren’s brilliant idea was: If people come in, people have to be able to go out.
And that's why we are all sitting in his shitty car and driving towards our possible impending doom, whatever that could mean for someone who has already died.

died.

 

The Mirror Sea

When I was but a young sailor,

green behind both ears,

My captain took an order,

to sail the mirror seas.

 

The mirror sea,

the mirror sea,

never sail the mirror sea,

no grave you’ll have,

just mates to weep,

for no one drowns in the mirror sea.

 

We left the port at dusk,

and turned our main sail east,

we’d return no matter the cost,

and sailed towards Neverfall Creek.

 

Three days in, I saw the gleam,

Only a few miles behind Hollow,

With my own eyes, I saw the mirror sea.

It filled my heart with sorrow.

 

The mirror sea,

the mirror sea,

never sail the mirror sea,

Many came, many went.

Many you ne’er see again,

for no one drowns in the mirror sea.

 

When I looked overboard,

I saw myself as clear as day,

but I wasn't like before,

deformed and grotesque in every way.

 

The others dared looked down as well,

some screamed, some smiled, why?

They wouldn’t tell,

Except for good ol’ Celred.

The mirror sea,

the mirror sea,

never sail the mirror sea.

my friend I’ve lost,

his death for naught,

but all once join the mirror sea.

 

 

A Limerick

 

There once was a kingdom named Gorus,

They’d promise that they would restore us,

But without them there’s no war,

knocking at our front door,

So we say “piss off” in a chorus.

 

 

The Bone Conductor

Once upon a time, there was a boy.

His parents gave him the name Lazarus.

Lazarus Blaithin.

Very soon it was discovered that he held great magical talent.

The best teachers in the land came to develop his abilities even further, and watch over him, so he wouldn't stray from the right path.

The boy grew older, and to the dislike of his guardians,

he wasn't as interested in his lessons as he was in playing music.

Not that he was any good at it,

considering that most of his time was devoted to learning arcane ways.

Still, he was fascinated by the idea of captivating people.

Making them want to move, or feel feelings they wouldn’t understand, simply by playing a few notes.

Nobody could resist the truly great musicians. 

His mother would sit for hours next to him,

just to show him how to play a simple tune on an old lyra.

A few weeks after she started to teach Lazarus, she passed away. 

Sickness, the teachers claimed.

The boy, experiencing for the first time the pain

of losing something close to his heart,

 planned to use his magic to bring his mother back to him.

But yet again, his teachers intervened.

Death, however gruesome it may be, was a natural part of life.

To rip someone away from the sunless beaches

was against every natural rule, the teachers taught him.

This confused the boy, had he been told up to this point,

that his magic was unequaled.

 

Why was this not something he could do?

 

Why was it impossible?

 

After his father also died not too long after,

Lazarus began throwing himself into his magic studies.

The boy grew into a young man

and even more of his close friends and family members

started to pass away or simply leave him behind.

His teacher however, remained by his side

and tried their hardest to keep his mind straight. 

But even the greatest magicians get lonely.

And people seemed to avoid him and if they didn’t…

Bad things happened to them.

At least that is what they whispered to each other

once the young wizard couldn’t hear them.
However not all people believed those rumors,

or at least, they were not smart enough to head the warnings.

Lazarus found a friend.

Not just anybody.

A musician.

And for a short while, all seemed well.

Instead of lingering between the pages of books about dark magic,

the young man would spend his time with his newfound friend

Breathing music. 

One night, not much different than any other night

Lazarus overheard his teachers talking. 

They were talking in hushed voices. 

They were talking about his friend. 

In their eyes, his friend was a bad influence for Lazarus,

who needed to be taken care of.

Just like the others. 

On this night the young man killed his teachers. 

When the Suun turned,
all that was left of them was bones and bloodstains on the floor. 

The young man left his house that night and went to his friend. 

But what he found wasn't what he expected. 

Instead of running away with him,

His friend was mortified by the blood on Lazarus’ clothes

And almost ran away. 

Almost. 

He killed his friend too. 

But…

No one was going to leave him. 

He was free. 

Free to do whatever he wanted. 

And he didn't want to be alone anymore. 

He didn't want to listen to any more rules. 

He was going to play by his own rules. 

And so, he raised the bones of his dead friend.

It is said that, as he vanished with his new servant,

he took the bones of his teachers with him

to form an instrument out of them.

Now, he still roams the land with a band of undead,

making people dance, whether they are alive or not...

especially when they are not.

 

Of Chocolate and Mafiosi

“Hit it, Diego! We’re already late,” Bea hissed in his ear.

“Calm down, li'l sister.”
Diego cracked his knuckles, pulled on his eyepatch, and with the heel of his black combat boots, hit the accelerator of his Harley down until it touched the floor. Immediately Bea had to cling to his leather jacket and inhaled sharply, which brought a grin to Diego's face.
“That wasn’t literal!”
“Ya don’t want Marcos to get salty cuz we didn’t get his monthly delivery, right?”

He didn’t get an answer. They hurtled through some darkly lit alleyways and abruptly stopped in front of an inconspicuous bookshop. Quickly Bea got off the death machine and looked at her brother, who seemed to be no longer interested since his motorcycle wasn’t involved anymore. Bored, he rolled a cigarette between his fingers. You could always find some crumpled stubs in the pockets of his worn-out jacket.

“So will you join me or just give the mailboxes some competition by standing around and being all useless?” She asked.
“Nah, I’d rather not go in, the ol’ hag can’t stand me. I’ll wait out here.”
He leaned on the handlebars of his dearly beloved Harley and watched a young woman cross the street. Family was really the worst sometimes, even if it was her own brother and not Marco-moan-a-lot, but maybe it was because it was especially him. He knew exactly how to drive her mad. “Got fire?” Diego asked without looking at her. With an angry snort Bea just left him outside.
Valentina was already waiting behind the door, hands pushed into her rather wide hips. “You’re late. Where is your brother?! Too gutless to get the order himself, eh?” The big woman’s voice sounded like the croak of a frog that had just been stepped on, and she kinda looked a little like that too. Her black hair was streaked with grey and surrounded her face in a neat bob, and green eyes swelled out under paper thin eyebrows. Her broad mouth only amplified the impression of an oversized reptile. With a heavy pant she pulled a little note out of her stained apron. “The parole for Albert. And tell this old crook if he ever tries to cheat me out of just one ounce of white chocolate again, I will send Ricardo and his boys after him!” Bea just nodded calmly and carefully put the note into her own pocket.

“And the flowers?”

“Are in the back. Get them yourself! Van Houten knows my back can’t take much more of carrying heavy stuff around. I have to get back to work. This snoopy inspector searched through my entire shop yesterday, he even wanted to see my backroom!”

“Aha?” muttered Bea, while lifting the flower pod and stumbling towards the exit. Bright purple iris this time.

“He recited those laws as if they were a love poem. No chocolate or other cocoa containing products are to be sold, owned or produced by private means. Blah blah blah. He even calculated how long I needed to go into jail for every pound of chocolate that he believed to find here. Will you tell Marco about this, or do you rather wait until I'm out of business? Tell him to send some of his men towards that no good policeman! I can't work like this!”

With a swift kick Bea opened the door while the shop owner continued her unstoppable rant. “Of course, Valentina, see you in a few hours.” The sturdy woman poked her shoulder painfully hard with a wooden spoon, before she could scurry outside. Some dark chocolate still stuck to the tip and Bea was pretty sure that there was now a brown spot on her jacket.

“Be punctual this time! Oh, and tell you lazy brother he can come in himself next time, understand?!”

There was just nothing you could say to a person like Valentina.

“Of course, but do keep your spoon for yourself. This inspector guy would be overjoyed if he found it on you.” With a brief smile she finally left the bookstore, still holding the flowers. In the meantime, Diego seemed to have gotten someone to light up his cigarette, since he blew a big puff of smoke into her face as a welcome back.

“Stop it!” hissed Bea and tried to wave the disgusting smell away. Like so many times before, she secured the flowers on the back of the motorcycle. “You ready?”

“Hm?” Diego wasn’t even listening. Instead he just smiled at some good-looking dude that just passed them.

“You think your freaky pirate look is impressing anyone?”

He finally turned his head and blinked confused with his one blue eye.

“Shut up!” he grumbled and started his machine.

“Valentina sends her love.”

His gloomy glances never failed to make her smile. Bea loved her brother. She truly did. Even though she sometimes wanted to push him off his Harley. He was just such a cocky boaster with his stupid eyepatch that he thought made him look so cool. But in her line of work, family was more important than anything. She would even trust Marco-the-twit-with-no-wit with her life. With a jolt Diego started driving, already going full speed again. It would not be the first time that Bea almost fell off. Someday, she thought. Someday the police will stop him because of this and then he will either get jail or, if I get lucky, they put him back in driving school.

 

Normally one would drive at least an hour to get to Albert, depending on the traffic. He lived outside the city and so most of the streets were either empty, dilapidated or in most cases, both. Diego needed only forty minutes. When he finally hit the brakes, Bea’s face had turned a pale shade of minty green.

“Why. Can’t. You. Just. Drive. Normal?!”

“You said we should hurry,” he countered with a shrug. “Got the parole?” Silently she gave him the note. Her stomach didn’t feel too well. Frowning his eye scanned the parole, followed by an annoyed groan. “The evil toad does this on purpose, I’m tellin’ ya!” Suddenly in a bad mood he shuffled over to the door of Alberts rickety cabin and knocked three times. Noises of fast steps came from the inside and then a slow creak as the door opened just the tiniest of gaps.

“Who goes there?!” asked Albert in his headache-inducing nasal voice, not missing his usual undertone of mistrust. Slowly Bea came up to the door as well.

“It‘s Diego and Bea,” Diego tried, but Albert didn’t take the bait.

“The stars are bright tonight!” It was midday.

Exasperated Diego took another look at the note, ripped it into shreds and growled: “Not as bright as your eyes.” Immediately the door opened and a tiny man with a round belly and fleeing chin (on which hung a puny little beard) looked at them angrily.

“Follow the damn parole, Diego. I need to know if whoever visits me here is clean!”

“Yeah, yeah, got the commodity?”

Bea tried to get a better look inside the tiny hut, but even though Albert was short in stature, he managed to block her entire view. She had no clue where he grew the cocoa beans, but every time they got any from him, they were pretty good quality.

“Valentina wants you to know that if you try diluting anything ever again, she will send Ricardo!”

Albert’s face turned white in an instant and his small beetle-like eyes jerked from one sibling to the other.

“Move it, man!” snarled Diego, which made Albert jump a little and scurry back inside.

“You know… well… the authorities are on my heels. Marco keeps saying that I’m as safe as can be, but you never know, right? You always need to look out for yourself, put a bid aside, for bad days.” He reappeared sweaty and weighted down by two heavy looking bags that he pushed into Diego's arms.

“We know how much you get for your work so don’t even try begging- and when did Marco ever let anything bad happen to you, eh?”

This was bad. If Albert got cold feet, they would lose their best supplier. Bea wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“Never, but… well, just tell Marco that I can't make next month's delivery happen!” And with that he slammed the door close only inches in front of their noses.

“Why does everyone keep thinking that we’re Marco’s legmen?” asked Diego frowning while checking the bags. He hoisted them over to the motorcycle.

“Family, I guess. Everything there?”

“Yup, nice dark chocolate this time and at least twelve pounds cocoa.”

Now all that was left was to bring the bags back to Valentina and they were done for the day. Nice and simple. 

 

After half an hour Diego had to slow down in front of a roadblock.

“Porco cane!” he cursed under his breath and they both watched how a young police lady came towards them.

“Do you think she is one of the corrupt ones?”

He shrugged. If they ran into a clean police officer, the idea of a fast handover was already dead and gone.

“Buon pomeriggo, where are you heading to, if I might ask?” The young woman's eyes moved over Diego's eyepatch to Beas sullen stare and finally to the two big bags with the illegal chocolate inside.

“Just back into town, signora.” claimed Diego fast, and he put on a winning smile. Bea heavily doubted that this smile would do anything in combination with his black clothes, the iron caps on his boots and the eyepatch.

“We were visiting our uncle and brought some flowers for our grandma.” added Bea and padded the flowers behind her. Both siblings held their breath, as the police lady walked around them to get a better look at the flowers.

“Hmm, Iris’...” She nodded and waved them through. They continued driving, but not before Diego could give the police lady a wink. Marco really needed to find a new method to signal corrupted cops who to let pass.

“Hopefully there won’t be any more problems today.”

“Don’t jinx it!” 

 

Of course, she had jinxed it. Only a couple of streets from Valentina’s store, two motorcycles were parked on the street and blocked the whole road. Next to the machines, four huge guys and a similarly large woman with dark dreadlocks leaned against a wall. Once Diego hit the brakes, they pushed from the wall and stepped into the light of the evening sun.

“Oh, no!” Diego couldn’t hold back a grin. “It’s Alessia.”

“The stupid police lady ranted us out!” Bea got off the bike.

Now they were in some serious trouble. “I talk, got it?!” This was not a question, and without waiting for an answer she stepped forward.

“What do you want? This is Coesiones district!”

The tall woman sneered down at her.

“Not for much longer, I fear. Oh, and concerning your question… those two bags would be lovely.” With a snort she positioned herself right between the dark-skinned woman and the Harley. Alessia was part of another family, one of Marcos biggest competitors in the chocolate smuggling business.

“And what makes you believe that we will just hand them over?”

She nodded over to her companions. Damn, was that Corvo? Two weeks ago, Ambra stepped on his toe, and he was still in the hospital. Minchia.

From the shadows Corvo pulled another figure. They were tied up and their face was covered with some kind of sack.
“What the… who is that?” Confused, Bea looked back to Diego, who was watching the whole thing go down like a reality show.
“A little thank you for your cooperation.” Alessia snapped her fingers and the sack was pulled from the person's face. Bea’s mouth went dry and her legs almost gave in under her.
“Luca?”
Below a mess of blond hair Luca smiled apologetically at her.
“Hello, bellezza. I might messed up a bit.”
Her thoughts began to race. Luca should be in prison right now. He was caught on an errant two month ago. How did they get him out of there?
“So if you want your fiancé back in one piece, you better hand out those bags.”
Finally Diego chimed in, Bea could tell that he was feeling for his gun that was hidden on his back under the jacket.
“For now, I’ve to say, ya look absolutely amazin’, Alessia,” he paused and lined himself next to his sister. “Buuut, there is no way in hell that we give you those bags.”
There were a lot of rumors floating around about the niece of Lucios de Rizzo, and none of them were good. There was no way that the one was true that said she stabbed her older brother with a knife through the chest to get closer to the family heritage. But when you looked into her gleaming honey golden eyes you could definitely believe that she stabbed someone.
“Why, thank you. I wish I could return the compliment, but...” With one swift movement she pulled away his eyepatch, let it go and let it hit his forehead. “Your whole style is just begging to be thrown into the garbage bin.”
Both of his eyes blinked in surprise at her before he pulled the eyepatch back over his eye. How did she know?! Nearly nobody but Bea new that Diego wore this stupid thing only for the giggles. This stupid rimbambito! Most likely while flirting he took it off in the hopes of impressing Alessia with this special little fact about himself.
He started talking again, faster this time, but still pretty calm. “Not everyone can be as stylish as you, but the bags are still a big no-no.”
“Well, actually...” Luca started.
“Shut up!” interrupted Bea. He was in so much trouble now and somehow she knew that it was all his own fault. If they would survive this, she would… well she didn’t know right now. Kiss him? Punch him? Both?
“You will give us your cargo or little Luca will watch the beans grow from down under!” Suddenly Alessia’s whole smiling demeanor was gone.
Diego pulled his hand out of his jacket, but without a gun.
“Tesoruccio, I’ll...”
“Give her the bags!”
Shocked, he looked down at his sister. “Wha?”
“Give. Her. The. Bags. Diego!” She was speaking softly, but her eyes were burning holes into the street.
“But, Bea...”
“Do as I say! Luca is family and family is more important!”
Hesitant Diego grabbed the bags and handed it to Alessia's goonies, while her smile appeared even wider than before.
“Good call, Beatrice, dear.”
Bea didn’t look up. “You got what you came here for, now let Luca go.”
“Puh, thanks, Bea-love.”
She could see the relief on her fiancé’s face, right before the sack was pulled over his face yet again.
“I think I will keep him for a little while.”
“Maledetto stronzo!” That was enough. Bea pulled out her own gun and aimed at the smiling woman.
Out of nowhere guns appeared in the hands of the big guys. Shit, there was no way that she and her brother could win a fight with these odds.
“Don't worry, Bea, I'm sure you will see eachother again very soon.” Alessia gave her a wink and before she could replace the whole gang mounted their bikes and drove past them.
“Porca puttaana!”
“What are we doin’ now?” asked Diego and watched how Bea trampled an old can to death. “We’re going to see Marco?”
She took a deep breath. “No! Marco can’t help us. We will visit an old pal of mine!” Worried, she climbed back on the Harley. Diego shrugged and sat down in front of her.
“Hit it, Diego!”