Asa Larsson - The Savage Altar

It grows like a tree of rage

behind my brow

with flashing red leaves, blue leaves, white!

A tree

still quivering in the wind

And I will crush

your house, and nothing

will be unfamiliar to me,

not even

what is human

Like a tree from the inside

forces its way out

and crushes

the skull

And glows

like a lantern deep in the forest

deep in the darkness

R ebecka Martinsson was woken by her own sharp intake of breath as fear stabbed through her body. She opened her eyes to darkness. Just between the dream and the waking, she had the strong feeling that there was someone in the flat. She lay still and listened, but all she could hear was the sound of her own heart thumping in her chest like a frightened hare. Her fingers fumbled for the alarm clock on the bedside table and found the little button to light up the face. Quarter to four. She had gone to bed four hours ago and this was the second time she had woken up.

Its the job, she thought. I work too hard. Thats why my thoughts go round and round at night, like a hamster on a squeaking wheel.

Her head and the back of her neck were aching. She must have been grinding her teeth in her sleep. Might as well get up. She wound the duvet around her and went into the kitchen. Her feet knew the way without her needing to switch on. the light. She put on the coffee machine and the radio. Bellmans music played over and over as the water ran through the filter and Rebecka showered.

Her long hair could dry in its own time. She drank her coffee while she was getting dressed. Over the weekend she had ironed her clothes for the week and hung them up in the wardrobe. Now it was Monday. On Mondays hanger was an ivory blouse and a navy blue Marella suit. She sniffed at the tights shed been wearing the previous day; theyd do. Theyd gone a bit wrinkly around the ankles, but if she stretched them and tucked them under her feet it wouldnt show. Shed just have to make sure she didnt kick her shoes off during the day. It didnt bother her; it was only worth spending time worrying about your underwear and your tights if you thought somebody was going to be watching you get undressed. Her underwear had seen better days and was turning gray.

An hour later she was sitting at her computer in the office. The words flowed through her mind like a clear mountain stream, down her arms and out through her fingers, flying over the keyboard. Work soothed her mind. It was as if the mornings unpleasantness had been blown away.

Its strange, she thought. I moan and complain like all the other young lawyers about how unhappy the job makes me. But I feel a sense of peace when Im working. Happiness, almost. Its when Im not working I feel uneasy.

The light from the street below forced its way with difficulty through the tall barred windows. You could still make out the sound of individual cars among the noise below, but soon the street would become a single dull roar of traffic. Rebecka leaned back in her chair and clicked on print. Out in the dark corridor the printer woke up and got on with the first task of the day. Then the door into reception banged. She sighed and looked at the clock. Ten to six. That was the end of her peace and quiet.