The NodenA.K.A. Graveyard
Unfortunately, this website is discontinued. What was posted here remain here to read for pleasure.
All new works of András Alkor will be posted on his new website.
Writing capabilites unfold in the language. It is not important what you write about. What is important is how you write it. The approach, the subtle language skills, the surface, the softness and hardness of this surface. These are the things that make your literary work unique.read more
His jaw was dislocated but he didn’t care. The other one couldn’t be hurt with his right uppercut, because he tightened his abs just in time, but the following left hook caught the bastard’s ear. Now, it was the other one’s turn, who stepped to the side,...read more
When you listen to music, what is it that wakes a certain mood or feeling in you? With what tools does it achieve its particular atmosphere? Music and writing is the same from a lot of aspects. What in music is a period, in writing it’s a sentence. A...read more
I bow down to pray. The whole space of the church appears in my thoughts, the fourteen columns around the altar, the eleven four-petalled flowers on the gallery’s parapet, pictures which tell the story of Jesus, the organ whose right central cross is...read more
Five in the morning, chilly, cold morning, everything is blue or grey, the roads fill up with cars, the traffic lights are on, the rest of the city lights are turned off, the people cautiously creep out on the streets, the first sunshine gleams. The...read more
Anarchy. That was his first thought. The pen pattered loudly as it touched the paper, releasing its tint which was spilled out on the paper in its irregular dimples. The writer sat in the middle of a family conflict, while animals were running...read more
Decus ferocitatis bestialis Quaseo, cum tui molis, cudate, dei, adversarium, vos cudate, dei, adversarium. They put a hood on my head and take me away. I’m humming the sacred mass. “I call forth the sinner”, I hear the nearing sound. I climb some stairs,...read more
The gate opened and Culmo was pushed in by the wind. In the protected hall lights were sitting in a circle, lights much bigger and purer than him, watching him with surly faces. The wind was ominously blowing a Gregorian chant. Suddenly,...read more
A tiny leopard meows at the glass door. The man wakes up, stretches in the living room, drinks his coffee and hops on the couch. He turns on the television. The leopard meows and cries, scratching the glass. The man becomes aware of the sound, which...read more
In response to What to Say When You Have Nothing to Say on Medium by Kyle G. Jones. How my first short story got published I had to run. I had less than an hour to get to the writing seminar and I haven’t even written my story for the event. Without even...read more