! This post was written long ago. What you're reading is not necessarily how I feel about things in 2017. This blog was started by an 18-year-old in 2001. Please, keep that in mind before you freak out.

A friend told me that this might be the darkest Wrong Star p..m she's read so far.

A was buried in ______?, this time it's B. The story continues directly onto Pine Cone Phone, I assume that it happens right before Retrograde-Circular Metamorphosis and there's the Little Bad Wolf (wondering if Lelei still finds that character likeable), turning into a wolf. As usual, there's a lot of absurd in the things B is saying: A wants the wolves to leave him alone, he assumes she's an idiot and that it's actually great to be buried alive after having rolled down the stairs of the tallest building around. In addition to that, he actually suggest the wolves to wall A up, using the bricks they tossed at her previously. Once she breaks through the wall and digs him out of the tomb they made for him, he claims that she spoiled it all.

So, yes, that's like Edgar Allan Poe who'd bury people alive in his novels meeting the old and morbid Serbian epic poetry where many a woman got walled up alive. It's also a lot like a film that almost ruined a former squeaky-clean-teen-series-actress' career and got a bunch of bad, bad reviews.


Otpetljani, otkukuljeni, odmumuljeni,
na pola puta između prizemlja i krova.

Zbunjeni, neprilagođeni, sneni,
ponovo smo se sreli u sporednom hodniku.

Pronašla sam list od zlata i podigla ga,
kad si besno poleteo za mnom, tražeći ga natrag.

Onda se pojavio čovek bez lica.
Stajao je između dva ogledala
i izgledao je kao beskonačna praznina.

Prišao mi je, odjednom je bio ja.
Prišao ti je, odjednom je bio ti.
Kakav je to stvor?
Odakle je došao?

Na moje iznenađenje, zagrlio si ga.
Ponudio si mu onaj zlatni list.
Izašli ste na stepenice.
Rekao ti je da će te gurnuti dole.

"Ne!", povikah, "Povredićeš ga!
Ubićeš sve u njemu!"
On se samo nasmeja.

Ti si ga posmatrao, opčinjen.
U trenutku, on je bio slika sa zida,
da bi ubrzo bio mačka sa kalendara,
onda je ponovo malo bio ja,
da bi na kraju opet bio ti.

"Ne moraš da me gurneš, sam ću se baciti.
Dočekaće me nežna, mirisna mahovina."

I bacio si se niz stepenice,
kao zarobljenik pirata sa daske,
dok je stranac jurio za tobom,
hodnikom prepunim crteža;
brzo, poput tornada,
smenjivale su se njegove maske.

Stropoštao si se i promašio mahovinu.
Okružila te je gomila vukova.
Gađala sam ih grumenjem.
Uzvraćali su ciglama.

"Zatrpajte me. Zazidajte je."

"Ostavite ga. Ostavite me."

Zatrpali su te. Zazidali su me.
Ostavili su nas za sobom.
Čovek bez lica je postao vuk.
Otišao je sa ostalim vukovima,
rekavši im da se zove Vučko.

Udarala sam o one proklete zidove.
Prvi se nije dao.
Drugi se nije dao.
Treći se nije dao.
Četvrti pade kao da je od papira.

Iskopala sam te. Izvukla sam te.
Rekao si samo jedno:
"Srušila si tako dobro napravljen zid.
Pokvarila si tako lepo utabanu humku.
I ne sviđa ti se moj vučić."



Tangled out, untied, unknotted,
Halfway between ground floor and the roof.

Confused, misfitting, sleepy,
We met again in a secondary corridor.

I found a leaf made of gold and picked it up,
When you angrily jumped at me, wanting it back.

Then there was a man without a face.
He stood in between two mirrors
And he looked like an endless empty space.

He came closer to me, suddenly he was me.
He came closer to you, suddenly he was you.
What kind of a creature is that?
Where did he come from?

To my surprise, you hugged him.
You offered him that golden leaf.
You went out to the stairs.
He told you he'll push you off.

"NO!", I objected, "You will hurt him!
You will kill everything in him."
He just laughed.

You were looking at him, enchanted.
For a moment, he was a painting on the wall,
Only to turn into a calendar cat,
Then he was me for a bit again,
So he'd end up being you in the end.

"You don't have to push me, I'll throw myself down.
Nice, fragnant moss awaits me."

And you pushed yourself down the stairs,
As a pirates' prisoner would walk the plank,
While the stranger was running after you,
Down the hall full of drawings;
Fast as a tornado,
His masks were changing.

You fell down and missed the moss.
You were surrounded by a pack of wolves.
I threw dirt at them.
They threw bricks at me.

"Bury me. Wall her up."

"Leave him alone. Leave me alone."

They burried you. They walled me up.
They left us behind.
The man without a face turned into a wolf.
He accompanied the other wolves,
He told them his name's Little Bad Wolf.

I was running into those damned walls.
The first didn't give in.
The second didn't give in.
The third didn't give in.
The fourth fell as if it were made of paper.

I dug you out. I got you out.
You said only one thing:
"You broke such well-built wall.
You spoiled such well-punned tomb.
Abd you don't like my wolfie."

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