Katarzyna Popiel
Bio
A translator, a writer. Two languages to reconcile, two countries called home.
Stories (68)
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The Outbreak. Top Story - August 2024.
Another day of the week. Woke up at seven, thwacked the alarm clock to make that beastly gadget shut up. As usual, my body asleep one second and fully aware the next. The bedroom, the shower, the clothes chosen yesterday and carefully arranged on the sofa for me to put on today. The same as every day. And yet… My whole body felt out of sorts. Each step seemed more laboured than usual, and a tenseness around my temples was a sure symptom of a headache about to develop later on.
By Katarzyna Popielabout a year ago in Fiction
Cloud Computing
My daughter’s mind is an attic. You know: that space up there, top of the house, always cramped, always too small to hold everything you would like to store in there. Old furniture, last century’s memorabilia, your granny’s collection of doilies carefully folded on a wonky shelf, a rickety chest of drawers, cardboard boxes piled up wherever one was able to shove them – it’s all there. All those objects big and small you don’t need on display, maybe you no longer need them at all, but… Well, you just cannot bring yourself to get rid of them. They don’t look that bad. They may be useful again at some indiscernible point in a very distant future. They may go up in value. They might become fashionable again. Or maybe too many memories got attached to fit into the bins.
By Katarzyna Popielabout a year ago in Writers
The Solstice in Bad Gumption. Top Story - July 2024.
‘How do we go about it?’ The group of three men and one boy shifted from foot to foot around a bonfire spluttering sparks in the bone chilling drizzle, a few hefty stones sitting amid the flames. They were thinking about all the time it took to get it going in this weather. Someone sniffed, someone coughed. They all felt cold and uneasy standing at the edge of the fields sprawling in front of them in the dusk, with their backs to the dripping birches surrounding the cemetery.
By Katarzyna Popiel2 years ago in Fiction
Weep Ye Not
‘I need to tell you something, sweetie.’ Granny’s voice sounds unusually serious. I look up from where I’m sitting on the floor surrounded by my favourite dolls. She remains settled in her chair, hands folded on her lap, the motionless bulk of her body like a statue against the light coming through the window behind her. What is it that she wants to tell me?
By Katarzyna Popiel2 years ago in Fiction
Hic Sunt Dracones
I've been dreaming of dragons for as long as I can remember. It’s difficult to say when and how it started. My mother used to say that my legs tended to jerk rapidly in my sleep when I was a baby. So maybe the beasts chased me even before I could walk? My own memories don’t explain anything either. All dreams merge into a long string of chases, desperate searches for cover, running, hot breaths almost searing my back, and then waking up screaming, covered in sweat, entangled in blankets. Sometimes on the floor next to my bed.
By Katarzyna Popiel2 years ago in Fiction
The Right Thing
I only noticed that new girl in class because of the name: Melanie. Never heard it before. But I had no time for her. I have friends already. Like Eve and Sylvie. Especially Eve, she’s always up to something. Last week she invited us to the military base where her dad works. Well, not exactly to the base, more like the training grounds in the woods. We went there Sunday, when soldiers had a day off. There were ropes to swing on, narrow planks to test your balance, wells with ladders so you can go down, tunnels… Eve and Sylvie are my besties.
By Katarzyna Popiel2 years ago in Fiction
