Tomrum

ForsideForestil dig, at du både falder og hænger stille i tomrummet. Der findes intet andet end dig og mørket og intet, der er alt, og alt, der er intet …

Forestil dig nu en stemme, der siger: ’lad være at besøge tomrummet.’[1] Forestil dig, at du drejer dig uden at vide, om du vender opad eller nedad, sidelæns eller ret, for intet af det giver mening her. Forestil dig, at du ser en mand klædt i en hvid taekwondo-dragt. Han sidder på en enhjørning med regnbuemanke, og de vender begge på hovedet herude (eller også er det dig, der gør), og han siger til dig –

nej, lad os tage det senere.

Jeg har skrevet om tomrum, Chuck Tingle, Welcome to Night Vale og det frie fald i KULTURO.

Du kan købe udgivelsen her. Den handler om frygt.

Åben

[1] Chuck Tingle, 2017: tweet. Link: https://twitter.com/ChuckTingle/status/834490954778226688 Egen oversættelse. I mine oversættelser af Tingles tekster har jeg forsøgt at beholde de slå- og stavefejl, der er karakteristiske for hans stil.

 

 

Snowball Wants to go to Outer Space

JDP-covert-March-2017-683x1024Snowball wants to go to outer space.

“The stars,” it says, as Limping Lotta looks at the void opening at the tip of her toes. “They’re made of fire!”

“Won’t they burn you?” Lotta once asked.

“Dragons don’t burn!” Snowball scoffed at her. “Our scales are fire-proof.”

“But you’re made of plush,” Lotta said. Later her father dabbed her scratched cheek with soap and water. “How did you get these?” he asked, but did not believe her when she told him. “Snowball is just a toy, Lotta. But if he scares you so much, I can take him to the charity shop tomorrow?”

Snowball was sitting right next to them.

Lotta shook her head.


Snowball Wants to go to Outer Space, in: Jersey Devil Press (2017).

Read Snowball Wants to go to Outer Space here.

Cover by Joseph Brooks.

Snowball Wants to go to Outer Space received an honorable mention in Spark’s contest “The Fantasy is Here; The Future is Now”.

 

 

 

Christmas, White as Bone

By Line Henriksen

 

                                                        The snow rises and falls out there, on the frozen ice,

It’ll be a white Christmas, and we’re all packing our bags.

                                                        gathering and dispersing like shattered teeth stirred by

                                                        the wind.

In the kitchen, father is preparing the roast, and gran is stirring spices into the glögg.

                                                        It pulls up shadows,

I set the table, and my siblings decorate the tree.

                                                        a sense of depth in the veils of white.

“I see them now,” sister whispers, sitting in the windowsill, her red bows wilting at the sight. We pause at doors and windows and see them too,

                                                        The snow peels back, revealing bones and tattered

                                                        cloth whipping around slow feet, steering towards the

                                                        well-lit windows that shine like guiding stars.

and suddenly everyone moves faster than before. The table is set in no time, the last bits of clothes packed, the candles lit by trembling hands, and in a flitter of scarves and coats, we depart just in time.

                                                        The guests are here.

We watch from the car as every window fills with them, warm light spilling out on the snow from between withered ribs and cracked skulls. Torsos sway stiffly, and legs kick upwards in dance, knocking grins from gnarled shoulders. As we drive off, we hear the beating of music, and the tapping of hardened feet.

I fear them, the bone-white Christmases when the lake freezes over, and the dead come back to claim the house for a night.

 

 

Stylter

Af Line Henriksen

Originaltitel: Stilts (2016)

 

Der er noget uden for mit vindue.

cropped-imageI lang tid har det braget og rumlet ned ad gaden, frem og tilbage, frem og tilbage.

Gadelampen gynger tavst, idet små efterårsvinde skubber sig forbi ledningerne, der spænder den ud over asfalten dybt, dybt nede. Den får lange skygger til at danse og springe over mit loft. På væggene sparker de deres lange ben højt i vejret, højere og højere endnu, til de næsten rammer deres egne hoveder. De springer, og de falder, forsvinder og kommer tilbage igen, alt sammen i takt med vinden. Jeg kan se skygger fra blade og plastikposer, der pisker forbi, fanget i malstrømme, jaget af –

De standser uden for mit vindue.

Jeg bor på fjerde sal, men de standser lige uden for mit vindue.

Jeg lukker øjnene, da det begynder at banke på. Continue reading

Monsters & Kitchen Tables – A ‘Why Monsters’ recap

Thank you to all, who attended the Halloween symposium ‘Why Monster Studies Now?’! For those who missed it (for shame!), this is what happened:

skaerm

First we had a round -table discussion with the founding members of The Monster Network – Ingvil Hellstrand, Aino-Kaisa Koistinen, Sara Orning, Donna McCormack, Line Henriksen – on the subject of ‘what is monster studies and why do (we) It’. The night before the presentation, we’d gathered around Sara’s kitchen table and discussed how we’d like to do this round-table. We ended up deciding on a fairly informal approach, in which we’d structure the one hour around a series of keywords rather than presentations on individual research projects. The keywords were:

  • Monster
  • Politics
  • Methodology
  • Ethics
  • Hauntings/imaginaries

In the spirit of the kitchen table, we wanted the discussion to be nourishing, collective and untraditional within an academic context (“we are academics, dammit!” is a quote from our meeting minutes from the previous evening. We might have opened the wine at this point, but we’re honestly not sure). The aim was to try to rethink the frames for how one can think and imagine for example ethics, politics and methodologies through the haunting imaginaries of the monster. Continue reading