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Post Doctoral Research & Writer • It is all about #perspective and the human #narrative
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This is a time of darkness, a time of despair, a time of chaos. It is the end of days, where God turns a blind eye and the Hell is turned into a frozen wasteland. It is the time everyone fears. Your future depends on this moment. In 100 words or less, write about the most dreaded time of our lives... Finals Week! AAAAAAAHHH!
Written by casteleijn in portal Horror & Thriller

Messiah at the End of Time

These are the times that stars explode

These are the hours of weeping

The times the gates of chaos open

From the eye of terror the heresy has come

The unfolding of the eldest plan of time

As one man carries all burden of life

He doesn’t understand this unwritten rhyme

“Why, why this failure, why this Golgotha?”

In burning pain he shouts the ancient line

“My god why has thou forsaken me?”

Standing at the beginning of nothing

The messiah at the end of time

The answers come, the silence roars

As he knows why, he fades out…

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This is a time of darkness, a time of despair, a time of chaos. It is the end of days, where God turns a blind eye and the Hell is turned into a frozen wasteland. It is the time everyone fears. Your future depends on this moment. In 100 words or less, write about the most dreaded time of our lives... Finals Week! AAAAAAAHHH!
Written by casteleijn in portal Horror & Thriller
Messiah at the End of Time
These are the times that stars explode
These are the hours of weeping
The times the gates of chaos open

From the eye of terror the heresy has come
The unfolding of the eldest plan of time
As one man carries all burden of life
He doesn’t understand this unwritten rhyme

“Why, why this failure, why this Golgotha?”
In burning pain he shouts the ancient line
“My god why has thou forsaken me?”
Standing at the beginning of nothing
The messiah at the end of time

The answers come, the silence roars
As he knows why, he fades out…


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Love Poem Challenge - Let's Test The New Challenge Abilities
Written by casteleijn in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Apprehension

Through wrought vines glimpses seduction    

at leaflets. Twigs of the purest frailty

subsist unknowingly. Hanging in the wind,

floating on the fresh current of impression

so lost, not knowing. So blinded by purity.

Moments of innocence, moments before the hint

of corruption. Daydreaming in a balanced state.

Was it salvation’s inquiry for vindication or crime

that brought us the immortal sin, that insightful glint

which crumbled down the avalanche at alarming rate?

Unfair to be brought to this malignant time

where the Whimsical with arrows gold or lead

bents its bow to hurt the innocent and green. 

Unfair to liberate the tension, to define

without sense, ignorant bliss or mournful dread.

Through leaflets and branches I was seen

by eyes of the purest clarity, subsisting unknowingly

of my trembling apprehension. A hazel innuendo

prize impaled me, I forgot all I’ve ever been. 

Sad to be so lost, so fallen. Consciously.

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Love Poem Challenge - Let's Test The New Challenge Abilities
Written by casteleijn in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Apprehension
Through wrought vines glimpses seduction    
at leaflets. Twigs of the purest frailty
subsist unknowingly. Hanging in the wind,
floating on the fresh current of impression
so lost, not knowing. So blinded by purity.

Moments of innocence, moments before the hint
of corruption. Daydreaming in a balanced state.
Was it salvation’s inquiry for vindication or crime
that brought us the immortal sin, that insightful glint
which crumbled down the avalanche at alarming rate?

Unfair to be brought to this malignant time
where the Whimsical with arrows gold or lead
bents its bow to hurt the innocent and green. 
Unfair to liberate the tension, to define
without sense, ignorant bliss or mournful dread.

Through leaflets and branches I was seen
by eyes of the purest clarity, subsisting unknowingly
of my trembling apprehension. A hazel innuendo
prize impaled me, I forgot all I’ve ever been. 
Sad to be so lost, so fallen. Consciously.




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In 15 words tell me why you write
Written by casteleijn

Alternative realities...

A utopian attempt to translate my feelings one-to-one, in harmony, with the reader. Perfect communication.

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In 15 words tell me why you write
Written by casteleijn
Alternative realities...
A utopian attempt to translate my feelings one-to-one, in harmony, with the reader. Perfect communication.
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To celebrate the release of my new book, I am inviting you all to participate in a contest. The concept: Explore a person's struggle to come to terms with a strange, sinister, or surreal reality. This is a broad theme to encourage you to be as creative as you choose. Flash and full length stories welcome in horror, fantasy, surreal, or any hybrid genres. The only rule: Prose fiction only. Three winners will be chosen, who will receive 2000, 1000, or 500 coins + a signed copy of my collection.
Written by casteleijn in portal Fiction

Mudfish

The city pulls me in as I flop around like a mudfish without my protective mucus in the growing sun. I lie flat on my stomach and am puzzled. The graffiti on the side of the transformer house puzzles me: “Jail.” Why am I even here?

I just came from the forest. I know that I never was doubtful, it taught me that. I know I remember the things I recognize, I know I dream my comparisons, I know life is not real. I know everything just happens. Yet here I am staring at this.

So I get up and cross the road. My bare feet on the black cold asphalt is a shrill contrast to the desert sand I left before I entered the forest. Before I entered the city. Yet it does not speak to me. It is as dead as the sky.

In the bus stop sits a young woman. Her white dreadlocks are tied in a bun on her head, a piece of metal through the top of her nose. She smokes a cigarette while her eyes dart over the concrete in front of her. In her frailty lies strength; she was broken before. She fixed it herself. She knows that my lingering stare is on her, yet she does not heed me. A tremor filled with noise and dark smoke propels a tin box alongside us. So much traffic at such an early hour. I shudder. I made the forest my own, the city will take me if I do not learn fast.

“What does that mean?”

The girl ignores my question.

“What does that mean?”

She looks up with a short glance. She squints against the bright light and follows my pointing finger. She shrugs.

“Why is that a Jail?”

She tilts her head now, hails the next bus while she gets up and flicks her cigarette in the street. When she passes me she whispers my first lesson.

“You know nothing of the wizards, go back from where you came.”

Before I can reply I am alone. At least in the forest I learned how to connect. Here is nothing to connect with. So I walk to the transformation house. It drew me in, it has to mean something. The large wooden box in front of it can open. I check its content and it is filled with tiny stones. Then I circle the building. Each side is marked with white words: Jail. Then I am back at the box. My corner of my eye catches movement. A man walks from some apartments to the bus stop through a small wooded area straight towards me. He is fox like, silent he moves.

“Hey, why is there no door in this building?” It really makes me wonder.

The man looks at me. My heart skips a beat as a deep vibration moves through my belly. Yellow are his eyes, his tongue forked, tattoos display his affiliations on his neck. He spits once in the sand. I expect a snake to sprout from the mixture, yet nothing happens. If he is a guard he is doing his job well.

“What do you think?”

“I do not know. That is why I am asking you.”

“Listen here old man, if you cannot figure out what this building is, then who would know?”

The way he says ‘you’ annoys me immensely. 

“Hey, the way you…” Already gone. What kind of trickery is this? I decide to find out from where he came, so I walk through the bushes away from the transformation house to stumble on a school’s playground just next to the apartment blocks. Some kids are dancing in a circle and singing a song.


“Wizards with fame, fallen angels some man say.
 Cloaked among people their works collide 
with the resurrection of mystics in men. 
“Ah”, would the philosopher say, 'is that not the burden of men', 
but no one knows how the wizards play…”

A rather elaborate song for young kids I do think, so I move to the teacher to comment just that, when she herds the kids in quickly. I look behind me. Is the weather turning? Am I being chased by a lion? I press on.

“Please, we have been over this before, you frighten the children.” The young woman looks at me with concern and a bit of fright.

I am flabbergasted. I walk back slowly with my mouth open. A mudfish on land way too long. Why is the air thicker here than in the forest? Why does it feel hotter here than among the seas of sand, where even I could pet a lion’s mane?

I trod and trample a small plant in the bush. Trickles of tiny droplets fall of the leaves all around me. This Amputee part of the forest is trying to talk to me. Whispers of steel, fragments of stone, a hint of smoke and fire. Dreams of older days. I back up until I hit the transformer house. Out of breath I wait until the sun sinks lower. Then footsteps in the dirt. Soft, with trepidation they come up to me and softly pass me. Snake man is going home. How many lizards did he kill today? I really do not know.

Then a hand on my shoulder. The white witch returned, her eyes kind, her lips hard. Ice all the way through. She offers me water. That’s it! I forgot to drink.

“I am sorry I am a burden.” Why I mumble this I do not know. Yesterday I ran from the forest all the way to the city. With strong legs and hard muscles. How is today so long?

“Here take this, hold on to it! Now touch the walls old man, feel the hard stone. Think and then leave the city.”

So full of hate she is, yet there rings truth in her words. Magic trickles under this building. I feel it, there is an earthly glow impossible not to notice. I feel stupid. Now I see, why not earlier? Water flows from the forest to the desert, but it all starts here.

“Look old fool!” She is really going at it now, the ice-witch. Why have metal in her nose if she is not scared for flying objects?

Before me a door that was never there before. Heavy steel set in stone. I can almost imagine the smoke, the flames, but then I open it. I step inside. Or did she push me?

Inside one fluorescent light hums visibility. The ceiling is blackened. The floor is sand, nothing here but me. I look around the four walls. I count them over and over again. Four, four four four. On each wall one written word.

“Trapped.”

Then I remember I am the old fool, the druid who entered the city. Twenty-one wizards with fame played this trick. Now they are gone or old and demented. I will sit here long forgotten.

Wait! She gave me something. In my hand a spray can of ‘Redwood red’. The bitch. Here now I spray my story, fellow druids! Head my warning: “never visit the city!”

- END

(c) Casteleijn MG. 2015-2017

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To celebrate the release of my new book, I am inviting you all to participate in a contest. The concept: Explore a person's struggle to come to terms with a strange, sinister, or surreal reality. This is a broad theme to encourage you to be as creative as you choose. Flash and full length stories welcome in horror, fantasy, surreal, or any hybrid genres. The only rule: Prose fiction only. Three winners will be chosen, who will receive 2000, 1000, or 500 coins + a signed copy of my collection.
Written by casteleijn in portal Fiction
Mudfish
The city pulls me in as I flop around like a mudfish without my protective mucus in the growing sun. I lie flat on my stomach and am puzzled. The graffiti on the side of the transformer house puzzles me: “Jail.” Why am I even here?

I just came from the forest. I know that I never was doubtful, it taught me that. I know I remember the things I recognize, I know I dream my comparisons, I know life is not real. I know everything just happens. Yet here I am staring at this.

So I get up and cross the road. My bare feet on the black cold asphalt is a shrill contrast to the desert sand I left before I entered the forest. Before I entered the city. Yet it does not speak to me. It is as dead as the sky.

In the bus stop sits a young woman. Her white dreadlocks are tied in a bun on her head, a piece of metal through the top of her nose. She smokes a cigarette while her eyes dart over the concrete in front of her. In her frailty lies strength; she was broken before. She fixed it herself. She knows that my lingering stare is on her, yet she does not heed me. A tremor filled with noise and dark smoke propels a tin box alongside us. So much traffic at such an early hour. I shudder. I made the forest my own, the city will take me if I do not learn fast.

“What does that mean?”

The girl ignores my question.

“What does that mean?”

She looks up with a short glance. She squints against the bright light and follows my pointing finger. She shrugs.

“Why is that a Jail?”

She tilts her head now, hails the next bus while she gets up and flicks her cigarette in the street. When she passes me she whispers my first lesson.

“You know nothing of the wizards, go back from where you came.”

Before I can reply I am alone. At least in the forest I learned how to connect. Here is nothing to connect with. So I walk to the transformation house. It drew me in, it has to mean something. The large wooden box in front of it can open. I check its content and it is filled with tiny stones. Then I circle the building. Each side is marked with white words: Jail. Then I am back at the box. My corner of my eye catches movement. A man walks from some apartments to the bus stop through a small wooded area straight towards me. He is fox like, silent he moves.

“Hey, why is there no door in this building?” It really makes me wonder.

The man looks at me. My heart skips a beat as a deep vibration moves through my belly. Yellow are his eyes, his tongue forked, tattoos display his affiliations on his neck. He spits once in the sand. I expect a snake to sprout from the mixture, yet nothing happens. If he is a guard he is doing his job well.

“What do you think?”

“I do not know. That is why I am asking you.”

“Listen here old man, if you cannot figure out what this building is, then who would know?”

The way he says ‘you’ annoys me immensely. 

“Hey, the way you…” Already gone. What kind of trickery is this? I decide to find out from where he came, so I walk through the bushes away from the transformation house to stumble on a school’s playground just next to the apartment blocks. Some kids are dancing in a circle and singing a song.


“Wizards with fame, fallen angels some man say.
 Cloaked among people their works collide 
with the resurrection of mystics in men. 
“Ah”, would the philosopher say, 'is that not the burden of men', 
but no one knows how the wizards play…”

A rather elaborate song for young kids I do think, so I move to the teacher to comment just that, when she herds the kids in quickly. I look behind me. Is the weather turning? Am I being chased by a lion? I press on.

“Please, we have been over this before, you frighten the children.” The young woman looks at me with concern and a bit of fright.

I am flabbergasted. I walk back slowly with my mouth open. A mudfish on land way too long. Why is the air thicker here than in the forest? Why does it feel hotter here than among the seas of sand, where even I could pet a lion’s mane?

I trod and trample a small plant in the bush. Trickles of tiny droplets fall of the leaves all around me. This Amputee part of the forest is trying to talk to me. Whispers of steel, fragments of stone, a hint of smoke and fire. Dreams of older days. I back up until I hit the transformer house. Out of breath I wait until the sun sinks lower. Then footsteps in the dirt. Soft, with trepidation they come up to me and softly pass me. Snake man is going home. How many lizards did he kill today? I really do not know.

Then a hand on my shoulder. The white witch returned, her eyes kind, her lips hard. Ice all the way through. She offers me water. That’s it! I forgot to drink.

“I am sorry I am a burden.” Why I mumble this I do not know. Yesterday I ran from the forest all the way to the city. With strong legs and hard muscles. How is today so long?

“Here take this, hold on to it! Now touch the walls old man, feel the hard stone. Think and then leave the city.”

So full of hate she is, yet there rings truth in her words. Magic trickles under this building. I feel it, there is an earthly glow impossible not to notice. I feel stupid. Now I see, why not earlier? Water flows from the forest to the desert, but it all starts here.

“Look old fool!” She is really going at it now, the ice-witch. Why have metal in her nose if she is not scared for flying objects?

Before me a door that was never there before. Heavy steel set in stone. I can almost imagine the smoke, the flames, but then I open it. I step inside. Or did she push me?
Inside one fluorescent light hums visibility. The ceiling is blackened. The floor is sand, nothing here but me. I look around the four walls. I count them over and over again. Four, four four four. On each wall one written word.

“Trapped.”

Then I remember I am the old fool, the druid who entered the city. Twenty-one wizards with fame played this trick. Now they are gone or old and demented. I will sit here long forgotten.

Wait! She gave me something. In my hand a spray can of ‘Redwood red’. The bitch. Here now I spray my story, fellow druids! Head my warning: “never visit the city!”

- END

(c) Casteleijn MG. 2015-2017
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Written by casteleijn

Wake up, wake up!

it is time to go

A mist rolled of the mountain

with whispers in the hunter’s ears:

“Heavenly flowered this seed will

bear a more precious gift than

dew’s sparkling light in diamonds.”

Silver strings lined with Selene's caress,

sprigs touched by her sister’s morning kiss:

“Draw breath, stir the summer in your

wake, bring my sister flowers blushed

with spring, call the birds, let it begin.”

Polished silver hung in speckled dark

pure, yet nonchalant, a voice of its own:

“Hide these softest colours, hues and its

ruffled radiance. This secret pact I share

with the worms, to exhale in the morning sun.”

In plain sight hidden the dawn of any kind.

(c) Casteleijn MG. 2017

#pinkmoon 

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Written by casteleijn
Wake up, wake up!
it is time to go


A mist rolled of the mountain
with whispers in the hunter’s ears:

“Heavenly flowered this seed will
bear a more precious gift than
dew’s sparkling light in diamonds.”

Silver strings lined with Selene's caress,
sprigs touched by her sister’s morning kiss:

“Draw breath, stir the summer in your
wake, bring my sister flowers blushed
with spring, call the birds, let it begin.”

Polished silver hung in speckled dark
pure, yet nonchalant, a voice of its own:

“Hide these softest colours, hues and its
ruffled radiance. This secret pact I share
with the worms, to exhale in the morning sun.”

In plain sight hidden the dawn of any kind.

(c) Casteleijn MG. 2017

#pinkmoon 
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Written by casteleijn in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Bring it on!

I look up from my book, dazed.

Electric hairs stand up in my neck.

It is happening again.

Wind is picking up some dust,

while the horizon's edge collects

a darkening mood. A heavy weight.

Sweat now trickles down my back.

Ratan's disobediently protests my shifts,

as yellow and purple fill the plain.

The birds come down and chase

their dinner now pushed down by force.

Then for a moment everything halts.

Such a shivering tense.

From afar the clouds start rushing,

and its forward wake trembles in

my glass windows, and another.

Under the assaulting eclipse, a whip,

a strike of blinding light, and another.

In this darkness a sheet falls down.

The heavens weep to paint the desert sands.

(c) Casteleijn MG. 2017

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Written by casteleijn in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Bring it on!
I look up from my book, dazed.
Electric hairs stand up in my neck.
It is happening again.

Wind is picking up some dust,
while the horizon's edge collects
a darkening mood. A heavy weight.

Sweat now trickles down my back.
Ratan's disobediently protests my shifts,
as yellow and purple fill the plain.

The birds come down and chase
their dinner now pushed down by force.
Then for a moment everything halts.

Such a shivering tense.

From afar the clouds start rushing,
and its forward wake trembles in
my glass windows, and another.

Under the assaulting eclipse, a whip,
a strike of blinding light, and another.
In this darkness a sheet falls down.

The heavens weep to paint the desert sands.

(c) Casteleijn MG. 2017
#poetry 
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"Comfort food for the soul." I'm quite down, fellow prosers. Times like these, only poetry soothes me. Please write a lovely poem about comfort or comforting somebody. Make it at least 50 words. Tag me because I want (need) to read.
Written by casteleijn in portal Poetry & Free Verse

The day that got away

I have set this one foot in front of...

I have counted the stones from here to...

My car is parked around the corner of...

Yet I blindly stare out with gathered thoughts.

I imagined the horizons beyond the...

I painted my skies crimson on blue and...

I have been blinking with watered eyes in the...

Yet my gathered thoughts unfold in stasis.

I shake my head I need to get home to...

I count the stones and find a new one loose...

I turn the corner into the parking lot and click...

Yet in stasis before me explodes the sky.

Exciting seconds within the fleeting days.

(c) Casteleijn MG 2017

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"Comfort food for the soul." I'm quite down, fellow prosers. Times like these, only poetry soothes me. Please write a lovely poem about comfort or comforting somebody. Make it at least 50 words. Tag me because I want (need) to read.
Written by casteleijn in portal Poetry & Free Verse
The day that got away
I have set this one foot in front of...
I have counted the stones from here to...
My car is parked around the corner of...
Yet I blindly stare out with gathered thoughts.

I imagined the horizons beyond the...
I painted my skies crimson on blue and...
I have been blinking with watered eyes in the...
Yet my gathered thoughts unfold in stasis.

I shake my head I need to get home to...
I count the stones and find a new one loose...
I turn the corner into the parking lot and click...
Yet in stasis before me explodes the sky.

Exciting seconds within the fleeting days.

(c) Casteleijn MG 2017

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Give us a little piece of your wisdom. Create your own proverb or quote. This is the quote you'll be remembered by, the quote that will go on fortune cookies and quote books, so make it a good one. 50 coins for the winner. Happy quoting!
Written by casteleijn

unstucking...

"Thinking about something is very hard, just doing it is very simple."

Casteleijn MG 2017 

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Give us a little piece of your wisdom. Create your own proverb or quote. This is the quote you'll be remembered by, the quote that will go on fortune cookies and quote books, so make it a good one. 50 coins for the winner. Happy quoting!
Written by casteleijn
unstucking...
"Thinking about something is very hard, just doing it is very simple."

Casteleijn MG 2017 
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Chapter 20 of Opaque Dreams
Written by casteleijn

APPENDIX :: Translations

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Chapter 20 of Opaque Dreams
Written by casteleijn
APPENDIX :: Translations
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Chapter 19 of Opaque Dreams
Written by casteleijn

SCIENTIA :: Exsequor exequor

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Chapter 19 of Opaque Dreams
Written by casteleijn
SCIENTIA :: Exsequor exequor
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