Prix Laurence - Bettembourg Prix Laurence 2018 - Luxembourg

Prix Laurence 2018

Foster Elizabeth - Amal and Mura

I felt the bundle strain to get free from my grip. It’s heartbeat pounded against my chest. I was probably squeezing it too hard but I could not risk the dropping it.

A bomb the size of my fist but with the power of a something 100 times it size exploded from behind the wall on my right. The once sturdy and indestructible bricks were turned to pebbles and sand and were being flown from their place in the wall. I was collected in the magnificent force that had torn apart the anatomy of the rugged building. I was heaved form one side of the road to the other and landed with a heavy thud. My vision blurred and went black, my head pounded and my body shook from within. I glanced inside my shirt at the delicate bundle. With it still in one piece, I struggle to my feet and feel a trickle of blood travel down my temple and the rough and metallic taste of velvet liquid occupy my mouth. The ground seemed to move and my eyes were unable to adjust to my new whereabouts. I hauled myself onto my shaking feet. One hand traced the rough surface of the concrete structure as the other cradled the delicate bundle. As I made my way down the street the piercingly sharp whistle of another falling explosive echoed through my ears. I glance up at the sky but could not see any further than the thick layer of smoke that was rising from the fallen buildings and blocking out the magnificent glare of the desert sun. Suddenly the sharp whistle was not the only sound that occupied the flat landscape. Now the screams came, they were sounds of the terrible wails, a sound from the chasms of their lungs, of those caught in the path of the bombs. I looked back in the direction of the cries, a tear rolled down my cheek and landed on the ground, staining the orange sand in a dull tone. I viciously wipe at my tears. My cheeks burned, my heart slammed into my ribs with each beat, my mind unable to take in the sights that were displayed before me. These were not tears of sadness, they were tears of anger. Anger at the destruction caused and the lives taken in these reckless acts of war.

With one single jab into my stomach from the bundle, my mind snapped back to reality. The bombs would not stop, the screams would never quieten. I had to run, as fast as I could for as long as I could.

As I reached the summit of a dune, i fell to my knees, exhausted. The bundle had jabbed and jerked for as long as i could stand it. I lowered my chest to the ground and unwound the rags that contained the bundle.

Her cheeks were a rosy red from the heat and around her eyes was puffy from crying. She looked like a blooming flower with the way her arms and legs stretch and kicked in all directions, she craned her head to look at the world she had been born into. I quickly scrambled to gather the rags that lay next to her to block her view. She did not need to see the world or at least she did not need to see this part of the world.

Her chest rose and fell in quick, peaceful rhythms. Dark brown eyes, the colour of tree bark, stared up at me. Curiously.

By looking at her, my sister Mura, the innocent and the evil had never been at such a stark contrast.



ageschéckt den: 21:10 Fri, 16 March 2018 vum: Foster Elizabeth



Maach elo hei mat

bis den 19. Mäerz 2018. Fin du concours.


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LiteraTour 2018

vum 19. bis den 29. Abrëll 2018
zu Beetebuerg

De Lies-Festival fir Iech all!
11 Deeg BeeteBuerg - BicherBuerg

6. Editioun vum LiteraTour a
4. Editioun vum Prix Laurence

E schéine Succès!

Prix Laurence 2019
hei, vum nächste Juni un!

Elo do:
D'Anthologie mat de Finalisten a Laureaten vum Prix Laurence 2017.
Dir kritt se op der Gemeng Beetebuerg.

Och nach ze kréien:
D'Anthologie mat de Laureaten vun 2015 an 2016!

*  *  *

Kleng Lecture, déi Iech vläicht weiderbréngt:


-  Wir sagen uns Dunkles
Die Liebesgeschichte zwischen
Ingeborg Bachmann und Paul Celan
DVA, 2017


-  Und es schmilzt
Roman, S. Fischer, 2017


-  Graugänse über Toronto
Journalgedicht, Suhrkamp, 2017


-  Wenn wir bleiben könnten
Ausgewählte Gedichte, englisch & deutsch
insel verlag, 2014


-  Picknick in der Nacht
Gedichte, Hanser, 2016


-  Warum ich nicht im Netz bin
Gedichte und Prosa aus dem Krieg
Suhrkamp, 2016


-  Hrsgb. H. J. Balmes
Fischer TaschenBibliothek, 2016


-  Brand New Ancients
Gedichte, Suhrkamp, 2017

-  Hold Your Own
Gedichte, Suhrkamp, 2016

-  Worauf du dich verlassen kannst
Roman, Rowohlt, 2016


-  Fass mich an
Beats, Punchlines, Bitchmoves
éd. g. binsfeld, 2017


-  Nichts zu danken
Roman, éd. Saint-Paul, 2016


-  Autopsie
Roman (op lëtz.), Ultimomondo, 2014

-  Abrasch
Poesie, éd. phi, 2013


-  Fuchs im Aufzug
Erzählungen, capybarabooks, 2017


-  Déi 20 kleng Bicher am "Schuber"
aus der Collectioun smart
Erzielungen, éd. Kremart, 2017

Auteuren 2018


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