Henrik Hageland
Bio
A poet, a writer of feelings and hope. A Dane and inhibitant of the Earth thinking about what is to come.
A good story told or invented. Human all the way through.
Want to know more? Visit Substack , my YouTube Channel or TikTok.
Stories (108)
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To My Big Love. Runner-Up in Letters of Gratitude Challenge.
Dear Peter, The first time I saw you was when you took a bottle of Coke out of Tom's fridge. I was just visiting, and you didn’t expect to see a guy coming out of the bathroom with only a too-small towel around his waist.
By Henrik Hagelandabout a year ago in Humans
A Wake-Up Call in Purple
The sun stood at a sharp angle, glaring into his car. It was morning, and Dennis was on his way to work. It was the same every morning, and he could just manage to stop by the Café on the Square for a cup of coffee and a croissant. His usual breakfast. It was easy and convenient for someone alone.
By Henrik Hagelandabout a year ago in Fiction
"The Revolt in Ashdale" Chapter 7: The Witch Ellevi
Anna and Paul had first returned to the Golden Flame. Anna felt she needed a bit more rest before setting out north of the city to Lillavand. The day had begun quite early, and so many unbelievable things had happened that she felt she needed time to digest it all.
By Henrik Hagelandabout a year ago in Chapters
The House That Took a Chance
The recently retired doctor was content. He sat in his cozy wingback chair, upholstered in deep burgundy buffalo leather, in the small living room corner of his new house. "New" was a bit of an exaggeration—it was actually a very old house, left uninhabited for years before he decided to buy and restore it. And it needed it.
By Henrik Hagelandabout a year ago in Horror
F*cking Frivolous Freedom
Previously Published in Deep. Sweet. Valuable Publication at Medium.com 25th of October 2024. I was just a child in the late ’60s, while the youth rebellion and flower children spread across the world like ripples on water when a raindrop hits the surface.
By Henrik Hagelandabout a year ago in Pride
The Cuckoo Clock
There was only one rule: don’t open the door. I was an apprentice to a clockmaker. I loved the mechanics of clockwork, but I was particularly fascinated by cuckoo clocks. The intricate mechanism that made a tiny bird emerge from the small door to sing its "CUCK-OO" intrigued me.
By Henrik Hagelandabout a year ago in Horror
