Tory Karavel
Bio
Sometimes a thought or idea appears and becomes too imposing to stay in mind only. It requires to be let out, fixed and shared.
Stories (3/0)
The Choice
Sunlight splashes in transparent water and scatters golden sparks over the surface of shimmering waves. The river bank covered with warm sand welcomes your bare feet and invites for strolling, dancing by the wind songs, jumping up and following the white clouds in the sky. Summer! A breath-taking mixture of blue, yellow and green tints composes the total mood to walk and catch the pleasure of the magnificent season. Your mind is mostly free but inquisitive at the same time. Each day is open for little expeditions and discoveries, asking questions and finding answers.
By Tory Karavel8 months ago in Psyche
Saturday Date
After a short day sleep she opened her eyes and smiled. The evening sun colored the window into pink and was gradually fading away. It was Saturday, the usual day of the date. She had been waiting for the whole week and as the days passed her excitement grew higher and stronger. She had been to the beauty salon the day before and now looked into the mirror to examine the curves of her darkened eyebrows and the newly glowing shade of her hair. She took a shower and massaged her skin with fragrant oil. Will it be black or violet for today? She couldn’t definitely tell what she liked more, neither in the shop nor here in front of the wardrobe. Finally she chose a lace underwear and a dress, applied her makeup and a little French “Fleur Narcotique”, and waved her hair. The time was 8.30, half an hour left. She felt she was hungry but she couldn’t eat, something pressed inside her belly like being glued, and her legs were hardly controlled as though they were made of cotton. In the kitchen she sliced some pears and took out a half-empty bottle of the elegant dry martini, her favorite. It was a specially bought and kept bottle, just for “weekend flavor” as they preferred to use it.
By Tory Karavel8 months ago in Humans
An Episode
For many years we lived in a typical five-storied house aside one of the main city streets. The location was favorable due to the crossroads, transport stops, shops and a wide alley for walking. Our yard, like all the nearby ones, was attractive for homeless who spent the days at crowded places and came to check rubbish containers and then sit under the trees talking in their harsh voices. They could sleep sometimes behind the garages in self-made beds which they constructed from things found in rubbish. The homeless… They are like illustrations of life’s common philosophy that is “no one is safe against becoming a prisoner or beggar”. Nobody could make them stop coming. Sometimes people called the police, our illegal guests were loaded into a patrol car and transported somewhere but a few days later they returned, in the same number or even with new companions. I guess they met them in the bullpen and invited to join the profitable district community. We began to recognize their faces and even know some by names, the most helpful of us donated clothes, pillows, blankets and food to them and an old man from our house shared cigarettes and liked having mutual conversations. He tried to talk them into working and becoming descent citizens again, they agreed, smoked, laughed and the next day started without any changes.
By Tory Karavel10 months ago in Humans
