Mescaline Brisset
Bio
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
Find me on Medium
Achievements (1)
Stories (772/0)
A Chef With Only One Line (Part 2)
The first part of the series can be found here. * Louise and Mabelle Louise and Mabelle were sitting on stools in the Craving Bull restaurant waiting for their meal. It was still quiet at this time, so when two young, beautiful, and attractive females entered the room, the two schoolmates immediately glanced at each other. Both newcomers wore tight pants that clearly exposed their figures; cropped T-shirts uncovered belly buttons with piercings penetrated by the prying eyes of the public, especially males; hair long, loosely lying on the shoulders; lots of makeup. Something to be jealous of if you are a young girl, for instance.
By Mescaline Brisset3 years ago in Fiction
A Chef With Only One Line (Part 1)
Matías* – the general manager of a small restaurant in the city centre – enters the premises at 6.00 a.m. as usual. There is not much traffic in the street yet, only a few buses are blowing air from under the chassis onto the street, reminiscent of a panting dragon.
By Mescaline Brisset3 years ago in Confessions
Motorcycle from Hell
: Green light for lust for life 29 March 2020 I still remember the breeze on my jet-black frizz above my forehead, curled that afternoon over my face like pubic hair. It was sunny, yet on two wheels you can never say sunny. It’s always cool, even a leather jacket, leather pants, and boots often can’t stand up to the weather. I don’t recall the bend on the road, it all happened in a split second. No time to think, I guess. Even later. Everything else after seems to be covered in black paint blurring my vision, as a tinted rear-view mirror. The cliff was steep, too high to notice the curve. I will never forget that bright, sharp flash of light coming from the sun… I forgot my sunglasses and we were shooting a movie on my Jawa motorcycle with my best friend Konstantinos who is a film director. I just call him ‘Phuzz’ and he got this nickname because he makes too much fuss about himself, which is always good for a filmmaker. You know, self-promotion and all that stuff. He was educated at Preston, which is always mistaken for the prestigious Princeton, with the slight difference being that Preston is near Blackpool in England and Princeton in New Jersey in the United States. He returned here to Mykonos, one of the Greek islands, his homeland to make films, although I don’t think he would ever dare to try again. I don’t know where he is now, the doctor’s eyes became as transparent as water in the Aegean Sea when I asked him this question some time ago. Is my friend really dead? It’s terrible if he is. Dr. Galen said that I should forget about my past life as there may be times when I wake up the next day without being able to recognise anyone around me so I should prepare myself for that. What did he mean by that? How can I not recognise anyone? I’m not old, I don’t have Alzheimer’s yet. So how could I not…
By Mescaline Brisset3 years ago in Fiction