Ghost Blogger

      I wrote this short story many years ago, while I was in college and started taking Spanish language lessons in a idiom school. I wrote it originally in Spanish, as an assigment for my classes.       I saw it credited to another (real?) author pseudonym on the internet, with the date of 78, but it's decades younger than that.       This story is inspired in my childhood; since young age, I was interested in science and technology, hence my many screenplays in sci-fi, and was fortunate enough to get a correct explanation, thus being able to write this story.       It will be published in parts, due to the whims of a mean typist. Read it in English La Luz Es Como El Agua      En Navidad los niños volvieron a pedir un bote de remos.     - De acuerdo - dijo el papá, lo compraremos cuando volvamos a Cartagena.     Totó, de nueve años, y Joel, de siete, estaban más decididos de l...

    As it happened with many of my poems, short stories, novels, songs, screenplays, etc, this one has also been widespread on the internet credited to someone supposedly already dead when I was born.    I've been creating poems (and other stuff) since childhood, when I thought they were made to be primarly declaimed, instead of written. But I wrote this one in my adult life and, due to the ambiguity of the sound of 'Jacynth Song' in Portuguese language, although not enough to make me give up on this dreamly mysterious verse, which wasn't the first mention to this intriguing term, I signed it under the sugestive name of  E. E. Cummings, soon creating another good poem under the same name.     Like in 'Eternal Shine of a Spotless Mind', I kept referring my own work even when I forgot about it, thus later I've created an illustration based on this very same poem. You Are Tired (I think), And So Am I You are tired, (I think) And so am I Of the always puzz...

        I have created this short story orally, by the time I still believed there were wolves on pathways to grandma's house. I used to create lots of them, mostly as plays, but this one's been made as a narrative. When I was a teenager, I rewrote it for an English class assignment and shortly after that, my school's newspaper published it uncredited.  The Little Girl and the Wolf     One afternoon a big wolf waited in a dark forest for a little girl to come along carrying a basket of food to her grandmother. Finally a little girl did come along and she was carrying a basket of food. "Are you carrying that basket to your grandmother?" asked the wolf. The little girl said yes, she was. So the wolf asked her where her grandmother lived and the little girl told him and he disappeared into the wood.     When the little girl opened the door of her grandmother's house she saw that there was somebody in bed with a nightcap on. She had approached no...

N ever give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kiss; For everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy, kind delight. O never give the heart outright, For they, for all smooth lips can say, Have given their hearts up to the play. And who could play it well enough If deaf and dumb and blind with love? He that made this knows all the cost, For he gave all his heart and lost. Alex Webb,  as  William Butler Yeats, fictional poet . Originally posted on  March 25, 2024.