Dagmar Goeschick
Stories (106)
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The rolling chair
My aunt and her husband paid us a visit at our country cottage on a bright afternoon. My uncle was a very tall and skinny man, resembling a clothes hanger, who had suddenly developed consciousness. My aunt, on the other hand, was charmingly well-rounded, with a laugh so loud it could drive crows away from an entire county. They were an odd couple, but a charming one.
By Dagmar Goeschick10 months ago in Humor
A Field-Hospital in England
The battle had taken Anna to places she had never imagined. As a nurse, she had witnessed far too much suffering and grief. Despite the fact that James had been gone for nearly twenty-five years, her recollections of him remained vivid. His letters had ended, and she was left in silence. He had vanished into the fog of war, just like so many others.
By Dagmar Goeschick11 months ago in History
October 1989
It was October 1989 in East Berlin, and the atmosphere was electric. For months, tensions had risen, with rallies spreading throughout East Germany. People marched through the streets, holding candles and chanting for reform. The iron grip of the Socialist Unity Party appeared to be loosening, but dread and distrust remained in every corner. Could change actually happen?
By Dagmar Goeschick12 months ago in The Swamp
Hum-Hum
The recently opened museum, Hum-Hum, was tucked away in the center of a charming Bavarian village, encircled by undulating hills and the distant murmur of accordion tunes. Just the name aroused interest. Was it a reference to creation's mellow hum? Or a reference to the well-known Hummel figurines and their elaborate German beer stein companions? In any event, Hum-Hum had emerged as a symbol of culture, history, and the arts.
By Dagmar Goeschickabout a year ago in Motivation
Jeurzalem
The course of my mother's life was never one that was linear. It was a dance with highs and lows, turns and twists, and ups and downs. If one wasn't prepared for it, it was the kind of existence that would make one feel lightheaded. Nevertheless, no matter how challenging the path ahead may have been, she never appeared to lose her smile. Her eyes—those stunning grey eyes that glistened with warmth, love, and passion—were always there with that grin, which will always be a part of my recollection.
By Dagmar Goeschickabout a year ago in Beat
Dad
Dear Dad, It's difficult to put into words all you meant to me, but I feel compelled to try. You were more than simply my father; you were my biggest supporter, best friend, rock, and everything. Since losing you, I've felt a piece of myself missing, like if I'm walking through life with a continual sorrow in my heart.
By Dagmar Goeschickabout a year ago in Humans
Disobedience
There was only one rule: don’t open the door. But I did open it. How could I have known what was behind the door? I was only three years old, an innocent youngster playing with my toy cars, when I heard the noise. I had been advised not to open it. But kids are curious, aren't they? Especially when the adults say no.
By Dagmar Goeschickabout a year ago in Horror
