Dagmar Goeschick
Stories (113)
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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
Memories
The river flowed backwards on the day the Queen vanished. That's what the tales say, and it's difficult to disagree when you've seen something as bizarre as I did that fateful afternoon. I was standing by her side as usual, and I had no idea what was going to happen.
By Dagmar Goeschickabout a year ago in Fiction
The Scientist
You know, I don't blame them for going after him. Honestly, it was going to happen. His fate was sealed from the time he began strolling down that street. It was 1966, and Cologne was far from a sleepy small town. There's always something going on in the shadows that we don't talk about. But I'll tell you why: because I remember it so well. And I was there. Okay, sort of.
By Dagmar Goeschickabout a year ago in Criminal
LOL
I can still feel the wind on my face from riding with my father on an old motorcycle through the heart of the Alps. It was the 1970s, and we were heading to Austria with no hurry, just the two of us cruising across these limitless landscapes as if we had the entire world to ourselves. Oh, what a scene on Grossglockner Road that day! Cars overheated to the left and right sites of the road, motorcycles racing by, and buses...so many busses jammed with tourists. I remember one in particular: a Swedish bus, loud, and bustling with Swedish tourists. One family stuck out of that whole pack of tourists: a full family of six, maybe eight, with the baby tied on the grandfather's back. He seemed so proud, carrying that small object as they crossed the road at the top of the pass.
By Dagmar Goeschickabout a year ago in Poets
