Parallel zu Seelenträger hab ich mich nun an meiner ersten englischsprachigen Geschichte versucht. Dies wird ein Experiment – in vielerlei Hinsicht.
- Finden sich hier englischsprache Leser?
- Kann ich qualitative Geschichten auch auf Englisch schreiben?
- Kann ich meine Leser mit der Thematik bei der Stange halten?
- Wie wirkt sich das parallele Schreiben zweier Geschichten auf deren Schreibprozess aus?
Ein paar Worte zu den ersten drei Parts, die eine Art Einleitung darstellen und stilistisch als Einheit gesondert vom Rest der Geschichte funktionieren, da sie sehr abstrakt und poetisch geschrieben sind. Sollte euch der Stil nicht gefallen, gebt mir mit Part 4 eine Chance, euch doch noch zu überzeugen.
Darkness. Floating. Nothing. Was he, or wasn’t he? Time did not exist. Nor did feelings. But somehow, he knew, he was inside himself. A prisoner of his own body without a way to communicate with the world outside. He hardly understood the meaning of “outside”. But then he noticed something else … A light —a glowing spot—and somehow, he knew, it was different from the darkness surrounding him. It was opposed to it. He tried to touch it, but the moment he did, yet it turned dark again within the same moment. However, this time something was different. The light was not gone for good—it was inside him. Of course, he was aware how ridiculous his assumption seemed to be, as he already was inside himself. He would have laughed, but he had no voice, no control over the muscles necessary to create sounds. In case this really was his body, encapsulating him and holding him captive, he had no control over it.
Eventually the light turned into a thought, a realization, a memory perhaps. The world outside existed. And he was once there, too. But he had no idea, how he came here and how he could escape this prison. Nothing happened. Time passed. Did it? Did time exist down here? Everything was absolutely similar in that darkness. Then, another light turned up. It glowed and disappeared like the first one. And it turned into a thought again. Green eyes. He had no idea, whose eyes that were let alone where he had seen them. But they were kind and handsome. They looked at him comfortingly as if they wanted to say “Don’t worry. Everything is gonna be fine.” They glimpsed and the memory was over— if it was a memory.
Again, he was left alone in the darkness. Was he alone? Would someone come to his rescue? Was this even a bad place, he shouldn’t be? Another light appeared. But it was different. It wasn’t that bright. It grew and shrank, grew and shrank, grew and shrank … It was like a key hole. Something, a desire, an invisible force dragged him towards the light. He saw colors and shapes dancing inside the light, heard noises, he didn’t understand. The force pushed him further. He entered the light. The light was everywhere, surrounded him like the darkness did. But the light was warm and kind. And he heard these voices again. But he still couldn’t get out.
Was glaubt ihr, worum es hier geht?