Bergpoesie einer Bergpoetin

Oder ist Waldpoesie einer Waldpoetin zutreffender?

Neue Kurzgeschichte

Ich habe vor ein paar Wochen eine neue Kurzgeschichte geschrieben. Eigentlich wollte ich sie zeitnäher hier veröffentlichen, aber dann kam der Domain-Umzug und die damit verbundenen Unsicherheiten und Revisionsarbeiten dazwischen. Viel Spaß beim Lesen!

The Culprit


A ladybird from somewhere near London, England, was unfortunate enough to board a plane to New York, USA. It was, however, fortunate enough to survive those long hours there and managed to leave the plane alive. The surrounding area didn’t look too different, so it thought that it shouldn’t be too difficult to find a way home. And yes, after just a few minutes of flying away from the sun another ladybird came on its way. It wasn’t exactly familiar, but it at least had the same number of black dots on its red wings. Our English ladybird, let’s call it Phil, waved happily, prompting the other one to fly over and land on a birch leaf.

“Hi”, it said, “new here? It’s good to see another ladybug as most of my family fell to the pesticides in the corn field behind the fence over there. You should stay away from there, too.”

“LadyBUG?!? I’m not a kind of bug, I eat them! I am a ladyBIRD!!”

“Getting above your status, eh? By the way, you’ve got a strange dialect. But birds are very dangerous around here, though we have managed to keep them off quite well so far.”

“I could say the same about your dialect. And I know that there are birds who try to eat us. Oh, there’s one coming.”

But the other ladybird, or ladybug as it called itself, just laughed. “No need to worry, pal, that’s just Prissy. She’s quite nice to us and interested in everything we do. Let’s see what she has to say about your claims to be a ladyBIRD.”

“Who calls himself a bird?”, Prissy demanded as she landed on the twig below the leaf the two ladybirds, or should I say the ladybird and the ladybug, were sitting on. “You may be much more beautiful than any other bug or beetle, but that doesn’t make you a bird.”

“Aren’t we also much more useful than most of the other bugs and beetles? And I will never be connected with cannibalism even in the slightest way. Is that understood?” Phil got really angry now.

“Calm down, pal”, the ladybug, who answered to the name Sam, said. “I don’t want this beautiful day spoiled by a row. Especially when…”

“Who is a cannibal up there?”, asked a little green bug who came creeping round from the lower side of the leaf. “I guess that someone feeding on us bugs has no right whatsoever to call itself ladyBUG, no matter what size or shape.”

“Ha!”, exclaimed Phil, “finally someone who helps me, though you look tasty. Mmmmmmmh! But have no fear, as a ladyBIRD I have some moral standards and will let you live. With the population of ladybirds that diminished as Sam says, there should be enough other bugs and lice to eat my fill.”

“Oh dear”, answered Prissy, who was visibly annoyed by the little bug, and readied herself for take-off. “Seems there is no way of a democratic consensus. And who is the culprit? As usual the humans with all their different languages and names for us animals. Have a nice day!”