Writer, demi-fictional, extranousician, liminal, non-binary & binary star. Writing fiction, poetry and philosophy about life, language, art, imagination, consciousness, magic and various other manifestations of the mind.
She softly gives me a great idea and while I happily plan how to take good care of it she throws ten more, related ideas, into my unprepared, fumbling arms and says while laughing hysterically: “Now you also have to take care of all these! Good luck!”
First I write my name into existence; then I write my life into reality. I am Ellinor Kall! I spell the secret words that unhides the truth to stand here naked among you – kindred spirits, wonderful writers and magnificent magicians!
When the tightrope catches fire you better run, she said as I ventured out over the bottomless chasm with the intention of never looking back. As soon as I felt the heat I started to scurry along the line. Flames licked my legs and my soles got scorched black as well as my soul. The acrid smell of burning hair was overwhelming and I could feel the fibers bursting like ruptured tendons in the rope under my feet. Finally my mask of wax, that I had carried to conceal my true face for a long time, melted and the sizzling, fiery drops disappeared in the abyss below. Everything was pain. But if I fell I knew I would never get back up from the depth again. So I tried to focus through the sweat and tears in my eyes. Run, she screamed, and I ran like never before.
The barn haunted me. I could not stop watching it. There was something inside. Something would step out of it anytime. I had to see what it was. I spent days up there. Brought a sleeping-bag when it was cold. Just watching. Listening. I had to. I had to know. What was the thing inside?
Text: Ellinor Kall | Photo: Fred Andersson
The Marschta Nexus was one of northern Europe’s great centers for focused geomantic energy. The inhabitants in the towering building at the center of it didn’t notice, but the rosette-shaped energy field was slowly changing them. They had started to communicate with each other, in a subtle way, unnoticeable to an untrained eye.
Text: Ellinor Kall | Photo: Fred Andersson
This morning I heard anguished cries for help from the marsh, but when I got there the voice had gone silent. I stood watching for a few minutes, holding my breath, listening. But the water remained still. Only a lone bird was heard far away from the treeline. I took a picture before I went home.
Text: Ellinor Kall | Photo: Fred Andersson
That summer morning on the shoreline was magical. Everything was as perfect as it gets for a short, blissful moment. The slow waves rolling in hardly made a sound — as if the great lake didn’t want to disturb us this early. No wind and no birds could be heard. It was a peaceful contrast to what happened last night. A brief respite perhaps. Because it was not quite over yet.
We wore no shoes and on our way down to the lake we felt the dew in the grass moisten our feet while we ran. Then, when we reached the small stretch by the lake that we had cleared from stones and called beach, the sand stuck to our skin and for a moment it looked as if we wore golden brown socks.
Sophia started to laugh and pointed at my feet. I laughed too, because seeing her laugh eased my pain a bit. If she could laugh maybe all wasn’t lost after all. She gave me hope with that sudden burst. That was the most wonderful feeling I’ve ever had. Hope from nothing. What a wonder! Then the moment passed and our smiles faded fast when we continued our fast trek along the shore.
As soon as we had crossed the patch of sand the sharp stones began to hurt our feet. I regretted leaving without shoes. But there had been no time. We had left in a bit of a hurry without knowing exactly where we were going. I took her hand to help keep her balance as the stones became rocks and boulders. But only a few steps later she cut her foot on a sharp edge and blood started washing the sticky sand away. I knew we could not continue at this pace any longer.
Without shoes we were trapped. There was no way out of this. We both knew it, and we knew it even before we ran. We didn’t run to get away. We ran to get a last moment together. I realized that the moment had already passed when we laughed in the sand. That was it. That was all we got. That was the precious moment I would cherish hereafter. That was the magical moment we had made that final run for. For that moment on the shoreline.
Helplessly I saw her sit down, resigned, with tears flowing.
“Ellinor, we’re fucked”, she exclaimed. “Really fucked this time.”
Author biography in 55 words: Ellinor Kall is a liminal writer who grew up kinda lost among the forests and mountains in northern Sweden. A queer shadow with sparks in between worlds. Born out of emotion and will, glamorized photos and words. Once quoted saying: “I’m not lost, I just don’t know where I am.” Maybe that says it all.
I’m a demi-fictional non-binary alias that writes random lunacy and occasional wisdom about the mind masked as weird and a bit queer fiction. Random or long contemplated thoughts and ideas concerning consciousness, fiction, art and language may occur frequently. Though the border between non-fiction essays and my journal can sometimes blur. Not to mention how to categorize the rambling oracles about magic that suddenly appears out of nowhere. Sometimes there are also news about what I’m up to.
You can find my short-story The DreamCube Thread published in the anthology Vast by British independent press Orchid’s Lantern. Also check out my short animated music video Ellinor’s Theme Song!
Apart from the English texts on this page I’ve written a lot of stuff in Swedish. That is however published elsewhere under another name. Identity is a tricky thing. For hints about this read between the lines in my journal, especially the entry about being multiple me, the attempted peace treaty and the oracle claiming I’m a binary star.
I’ll be adding new and old texts to this site every now and then, so check back in here or use the RSS thingie in the footer. I got writings all over the place, so I keep finding stuff I forgot about. Since English is my second language spelling and grammar may falter sometimes.
If you’re looking for a specific text you can choose categories and find lists with direct links to all contents in the menu. Enjoy!
PS: For more of my writing follow EllinorKall on Twitter!
Welcome to the Ur-times and the oldest post on this site. This waypoint exists only as a logistic convenience for chronological travelers. From here there is only forward through all categories.
Be seeing you!