Just translated my latest short story from Swedish to English. I need the practice 
Was a lot harder than I thought, but here it is:
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An explosion.
I’m catapulted into nothingness; annihilated by a devastating force, a force I fought for so long, like the desperate prisoner in the guillotine seconds before the blade falls, clinging on to the last ray of hope.
I’m flying. Everything is moving at an astounding pace. Is it really supposed to be like this? Is this really going to be the end? All the struggling in vain, everything lost in a single pressure wave of misery. On the right of me I see a junkie, worn by the hard life of the street, branded with life’s loser-stamp. If time would have allowed it I would have spat on this miserable creature, this inhuman animal, more ape-like than human.
I quickly turn my head. Too quickly. The speed I’m travelling at almost rips it right off of my shoulders. A screaming mother dejectedly tries to calm her son. A bored police-man patrols the square. A group of youths jump around in some sort of retarded, monkey-like movements in an attempt to imitate their favourite artists. The politicians lounge in the near-by café.
Me – I’m just flying. Flying in a direction I did not choose, involuntary closing in on my target. The end is near now and I’m resigned to accepting – to reconcile with the unavoidable yet at the same time give up for good. I laugh out loud at the humans around me. Parasites basing their lives on using each other, cheating on each other, at the same time not realising how dependant they are of each other and the game they play. Pathetic creeps are what they are, slaves under their urges, impulses, neuroses. Yes, pathetic creeps, without the ability to perform even the slightest self-control. Homo Apestagia.
For my part the game was over before it even had begun. When I meet my goal, bore into it’s heart, I’m overwhelmed by a terrifying insight. All the humans that I’ve called pathetic are after all happy within, as is the human that I am now destroying with my mere presence. I am the parasite – not they.
A thud.
Was a lot harder than I thought, but here it is:---
An explosion.
I’m catapulted into nothingness; annihilated by a devastating force, a force I fought for so long, like the desperate prisoner in the guillotine seconds before the blade falls, clinging on to the last ray of hope.
I’m flying. Everything is moving at an astounding pace. Is it really supposed to be like this? Is this really going to be the end? All the struggling in vain, everything lost in a single pressure wave of misery. On the right of me I see a junkie, worn by the hard life of the street, branded with life’s loser-stamp. If time would have allowed it I would have spat on this miserable creature, this inhuman animal, more ape-like than human.
I quickly turn my head. Too quickly. The speed I’m travelling at almost rips it right off of my shoulders. A screaming mother dejectedly tries to calm her son. A bored police-man patrols the square. A group of youths jump around in some sort of retarded, monkey-like movements in an attempt to imitate their favourite artists. The politicians lounge in the near-by café.
Me – I’m just flying. Flying in a direction I did not choose, involuntary closing in on my target. The end is near now and I’m resigned to accepting – to reconcile with the unavoidable yet at the same time give up for good. I laugh out loud at the humans around me. Parasites basing their lives on using each other, cheating on each other, at the same time not realising how dependant they are of each other and the game they play. Pathetic creeps are what they are, slaves under their urges, impulses, neuroses. Yes, pathetic creeps, without the ability to perform even the slightest self-control. Homo Apestagia.
For my part the game was over before it even had begun. When I meet my goal, bore into it’s heart, I’m overwhelmed by a terrifying insight. All the humans that I’ve called pathetic are after all happy within, as is the human that I am now destroying with my mere presence. I am the parasite – not they.
A thud.
