Dagmar Goeschick
Stories (50/0)
"Little Muck"
The Adventures of “Little Muck” It was once upon a time. A small man with a large head resided in the city of Nicaea. Everyone referred to him as the Little Muck. The adults were quite courteous to Muck. However, the kids on the street taunted and mocked him frequently. That's why he only went out on the town once a month.
By Dagmar Goeschick9 months ago in Families
How does the salt go into the sea?
"How does the salt get into the sea?" the small girl asked her father, her wide brown eyes fixed on him. Her father was not just her DAD, but also her best friend, and he meant everything to her. He had all of the answers to the questions she was continuously asking. He was the one who taught her to look deeper and closer. He was the one who taught her how to appreciate the natural beauty around her. For her, he was the rock in the sea.
By Dagmar Goeschick9 months ago in Fiction
Born to be a Hero
Born to be a woman is an issue in a world where men believe they always know better. Men are causing more issues, but women must bear the next heir, preferably a male, work in the kitchen or give orders to the kitchen and to house workers, learn to sing, do needlework, and that's all.
By Dagmar Goeschick10 months ago in History
The Sunday-Family-Walk
I'll never forget the Sunday family walks in the fields, the forest, or just down the street. My father and mother were arm in arm, with my sister and I in front of them. We were hopping, laughing, and tormenting one other. For all of us, it resembled a ritual, albeit a significant one.
By Dagmar Goeschick10 months ago in Art
Hunger
During WWII, two brothers stole a large truck full of meat to feed their friends and families. The crime began early in the morning, as they were loading the truck with meat for the highly decorated Nazis. They only took the best steaks and ribs, the best sausages, and the tenderest fillet. They knew it had to be done on the way to their target, a magnificent Baroque castle where the Nazis were having a party. So, after they completed loading, they prepared all of the proper paperwork and set off. The road was in poor condition, it was cold, and it began to snow. It was the 24th of December.
By Dagmar Goeschick11 months ago in Fiction
The "Erlkoenig"
Day 1 I climbed on my brand-new motorbike for the first time on a hot and sunny Monday morning. It was red, a dark scarlet with a little white border. The chrome gleamed in the sunlight, and the creamy leather seat added to the allure of this lady-motorbike. I've been saving up for a motorbike like this for the past five years. When my pals went on holiday, I went to work on a farm. When my pals went out to eat and party, I stayed at home and read a book to save money. Every penny I saved pushed me closer to this motorbike. Last week Friday, I was able to deposit the money on the counter and obtain what I so desperately want. All of my efforts had paid off at that point. I will never be sorry.
By Dagmar Goeschick11 months ago in Pride
The Riddle
Stay away, stay away, Don't come near me again. I am terrified, and I am old. You make me shiver and fearful. The old lady often reflected on instances when nothing went as planned. She recalls every detail of the day she discovered the truth about her best friend, Sally. A lovely young lady, much like herself. That summer, they had both turned 16 years old. That summer, they grew ancient, stone ages old.
By Dagmar Goeschick12 months ago in Fiction