Metanoia

By Lise Lyng Falkenberg

To read “Metanoia” is to enter into the fantastic, magic realistic universe of Lise Lyng Falkenberg where ghosts lurk, angels flock and men turn into scarecrows. Your guide through the ten stories of the collection is Little Johnny Sleepwalker, the narrator of the first story, “Little Johnny Sleepwalker and the Mojo Hounds from Hell”. He’ll grab you by the hand or leg or any other body part within reach and drag you through heaven and hell. And back, hopefully! It is entertaining, disturbing, scary and fun as there’s never a dull moment in the company of Lise Lyng Falkenberg and her henchman Johnny Boy. So you might as well just sit back and enjoy the ride, because as Johnny would put it: you’re damned if you do, and you’re damned if you don’t!

Four of the short stories have been written directly for this collection whereas five have been published before in the author’s native language, Danish, among them the critically acclaimed “For Every Evil Under the Sun”. These stories have been translated by the author herself for this collection. A single story, “The Legend of the Scarecrow”, was published originally as part of chapter four of the author’s Danish novel “The Scarecrow” and the present excerpt has been edited and translated for this short story collection by the author herself.

Lise Lyng Falkenberg holds two Ph.D. degrees, one in Comparative Literature and one in Cultural studies as well as a BA in Semiotics. She is a noted author of about twenty novels, short story collections and biographies published in both Danish and English along with hundreds of poems, essays, articles and reviews.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lise Lyng Falkenberg
• Release date: Jan 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311703354

Lise Lyng Falkenberg

Lise Lyng Falkenberg is a Danish author of mostly fiction and biographies. Since her debut in 1983 a dozen of her novels and biographies have been published in both Danish and English along with hundreds of short stories, poems, essays, articles and reviews.Lise Lyng Falkenberg is a Ph.D. in Comparative Literature and holds a second Ph.D. degree in Cultural Studies as well as a B.A. in Semiotics. She has worked for Odense University Library and University of Southern Denmark as a researcher and parallel to her academic career, she took on jobs as a model, graphic artist, musician, carny, journalist, scriptwriter, photographer and director of documentaries and rock videos. In 2005 she decided to put her Danish writing career behind her in order to concentrate on the UK, both as a traditionally published author and an independent ebook author.Lise Lyng Falkenberg is an expert on Sir J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan and the official biographer of Don Powell, drummer of British rock band Slade.

Book preview

Metanoia

by

Lise Lyng Falkenberg

*****

Copyright 2016 Lise Lyng Falkenberg

Smashwords edition

Smashwords edition, Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To Debby Edwards,

my proof reader for the past 15 years – and my friend for 30!

Your friendship is invaluable to me and you have worked magic on my books.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Contents

Little Johnny Sleepwalker and the Mojo Hounds from Hell

Metanoia

Passing Trains

Stench

Krishna

Transit

The Inheritance

In Memory of a Paediatrician

For Every Evil Under the Sun

The Legend of the Scarecrow

About the Author

Little Johnny Sleepwalker and the Mojo Hounds from Hell

Hello, my sleepless friends and doggie lovers. Little Johnny Sleepwalker at your service. Maybe you remember me? I come to you in your dreams at night, that timid, pale boy with the short, brown hair and white nightgown who you see in a glimpse out of the corner of your eye. Maybe you have talked to me? Maybe you have tried to help me? I’m such a poor, little boy all alone in the night, lost in my sleepwalk. Maybe you have walked with me for a while? If not, I’m bloody sure that you will very soon! You see, I’m a seducer by day and demon by night and I’m here to tell you my story.

Once I was an ordinary bloke just like you, a lazy git who drank too much and thought too much about sex without getting any. I wasn’t Johnny back then, but a twenty-something stupid twit by the name of Bob, who preferred to sit on my couch all day and drink beer and watch football on telly instead of going out into the world and doing something with my life. I had a fairly good voice and I’d been in a band at school, but it never amounted to anything. I didn’t even get around to getting an education, so now I was just a poor out of work sluggish scumbag. Sure, I sometimes regretted that I wasted my life on the couch and I could even lay awake at night because of it, but I was too lazy to do anything about it.

Then one evening one of my mates fixed me up with a date. His name was Johnny, by the way, and he used to be the drummer in our school band, but he quit, as he was an even lazier git than me. Anyway, he knew this chick by the name of Tonia Mae, a really high class lass, he said, who wanted to go out with me. I couldn’t blame her as I’ve always found myself to be a bit of a looker and if she was just half as pretty, we would be in the clear. Johnny said that she was a real knock-out and the next thing I knew, I was going out with Johnny’s wench.

She was stunning. Six foot tall and shaped like an hourglass with long caramel coloured hair and big brown eyes. She wore a cocktail dress that was way out of my league money-wise, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She just smiled at me and said, What’s up, lover boy?

To be honest, I had no idea where to take her, but she turned out to have tickets for a band of little fame called The Dogs. I guess their most popular tune was a punk version of Santo & Johnny’s Sleep Walk, the 1959 US surf rock hit featuring steel guitar and the brothers Santo and Johnny Farina. That kind of said it all.

The Dogs played in a downtown club where a chick like Tonia Mae was a rare sight, but she seemed to totally dig the scene and the band as well. I had no idea why because the club was a shithole and the music sucked. The Dogs were a glam punk band and as such even I had to admit that they had a certain attractive stage presence. Unfortunately, they were an instrumental glam punk band consisting of a drummer, a bass player, a keyboard player and a lead guitarist only and with no singer their music was massively boring.

Of course, I bragged about my singing skills and I said to Tonia Mae that I could easily outshine that crap band. It must have impressed the dashing damsel, because afterwards she took me to a hotel nearby where she booked a room for the night. It seemed that good ol’ Bob was going to get lucky and we were just making ourselves comfortable on the double bed when there was a knock on the door and somebody yelled, Room service!

Uh, oh! thought yours truly, because we hadn’t ordered room service, but a stark naked Tonia Mae got out of bed to open the door all the same.

As soon as my bare-arsed beauty opened the door, the room was invaded by four great hounds that came galloping towards the bed. I may have screamed when I saw these massive beasts that seemed to be part Rottweiler, part Mastiff, part Alsatian and part demon.

Hellhounds! Tonia Mae screeched and clapped her hands while the monsters pounded me. She wriggled into her little cocktail dress, humming to herself to my screams as the hounds tore me to shreds. The pain was unbelievable when they ripped and snapped and tore big chunks of flesh off my body while I was bleeding to death.

When I had just about died, Tonia Mae said that she would spare me. I needed a purpose in life, she said and The Dogs needed a singer. Then she called out the names of the hellhounds: Psycho, Noia, Phobia, Fritz, the very same names as the names of The Dogs and suddenly it wasn’t the hellhounds lashing out at me, but the band.

Stop it! Tonia Mae called out and the four band members stopped biting me. The lead guitarist Psycho let go of my arm and the keyboard player Noia of my leg, whereas the bassist Phobia stopped ripping my throat and the drummer Fritz finished eating one of my toes.

So what do you say, lover boy? Tonia Mae asked and batted her eyelashes, but all I could do was roar with pain.

For fuck’s sake! the lady sighed and touched my forehead and all of a sudden the pain stopped and my torn flesh was restored.

Pull yourself together, man! she scolded. I’m offering you a position as The Dogs’ singer and I think I’m going to call you Johnny.

But I’m not Johnny, I’m Bob, I croaked, as it’s difficult to talk when your throat has just been ripped! Johnny is my buddy’s name.

Tell me about it! said Tonia Mae and rolled her eyes.

It turned out that Tonia Mae had already exposed Johnny to The Dogs and they had gnawed on him like they had gnawed on me.

But he was hopeless, the beastly beauty said and tossed my clothes towards me. I hurried to get dressed while she continued, At first he seemed to be ideal, you know. Johnny and The Dogs. What a perfect name, much better than Bob and The Dogs, and he was even lazier than you too, but he couldn’t sing.

Could have told you that, I muttered while zipping up my jeans, but Tonia Mae just shrugged her shoulders, Besides, people didn’t like him. We need someone that people like, someone that they will trust and even follow, you know. Johnny said that people used to listen to you, when you were school mates so I asked him to set us up.

It started to dawn on me that all of this, The Dogs and the hellhounds and the mutilation of my body, was Johnny’s fault.

You mean to tell me that Johnny knew about this? I asked the pretty Tonia Mae. He knew that The Dogs were hounds and would rip me to pieces?

Sure! my disastrous date said. In fact, we only spared him from the same fate because he gave us you!

I am the first to admit that I was a little miffed, so I toppled the nightstand, smashed a lamp and cursed Johnny’s name.

Oh, shut up, Tonia Mae said and yawned and The Dogs, who were still sitting on the bed although they were no longer hounds, rolled their eyes or shook their heads.

You are either going to be Johnny or you are going to be dead, the wicked wench said.

I’m never going to be called Johnny! I assured her, but that only made the chick look at me with raised eyebrows and go, Would you rather be called Dianoia? You could, you know. I’ve toyed for a long time with the idea of changing the name of the band to The Noias, as Noia means thought in Greek and boredom, annoyance, dullness, ennui and trouble in Italian.

The keyboard player Noia who had black and tan coloured hair, strong jaws and a scissor-like bite like an Alsatian grinned very self-assured as Tonia Mae continued, Our keyboard bass player could then keep his name, but the rest of the gang would have to change theirs. Phobia would become Paranoia, Psycho Anoia and Fritzt Hyponia.

I must have looked like a total dunce, because she said, That means Delusions of persecution, Idiocy and Dulled mental activity, stupid! Unfortunately the only noia-name left would then be Dianoia, meaning Capacity for discursive thinking, and that doesn’t fit in let alone sound as sexy as Johnny, does it?

Well…

I’m not gonna be called Hyppo-whatever! the drummer Fritz cut me off. He was one ugly bugger with pale skin, long matted hair, sharp teeth and glowing eyes. He looked like a demon and honestly, he had been much more handsome as a hound! I’m not dull!

It made the other Dogs roll around on the bed with laughter, but Tonia Mae just stared at me.

So what is it gonna be? she asked. Johnny or death?

When she put it that way, I had to agree that Johnny was not a bad name and now that she kindly let me choose, I would much rather be called Johnny than be torn to pieces by hellhounds once again, no matter that I had just cursed the name.

Then that’s settled! Tonia Mae smiled. Dogs, meet your new singer, Johnny. And Johnny, meet The Dogs.

Now I travel the world, playing in little clubs to scumbags like I once was, people doing nothing with their lives and lying sleepless at night regretting it. When we spot them in the audience, my doggie companions turn on their mojo on stage to suck them in and afterwards we invite them to our after parties, both the lads and the ladies, where my associates and I flash our sex appeal, creative genius and special spark.

I get all the pretty, vain girls of course and lively Noia the ones who just want to have fun. Our dark Psycho with a Rottweiler’s broad scull, wrinkled forehead and strong and powerful appearance swings both ways whereas Phobia with her silver fawn hair, massive body and square appearance like a Mastiff gets the straight boys. The reluctant ones we leave to our madman Fritz who