The shack was hidden in the deep, dark northern German forest. The full moon cast shadows of the tall, thin spruce trees, standing like Prussian sentries.
Inside the shack was as dark as an asylum lock closet, except for the pierce of moonlight jabbing through a gap in the window shade, bending through the cobwebs. Blood dripped off the serrated blade. Axel looked down at his handywork. Two lifeless bodies, a young newly-wed couple who wanted adventure on their honeymoon. He stepped out of the shack and said out loud to himself, “Tomorrow, Neustrelitz, gonna have me some fun.”
This was a short day of cycling, on our way from Berlin to Copenhagen, but my ass was telling me it’s going to be a very long day. Traveling through thick forests with nothing much to look at, but these former East German villages we’re passing through are quite pretty and of course, very tidy. Blood red poppies in the flower gardens of every cottage.
Maybe just my imagination, but the older people, like my age, don’t seem too happy. A lifetime under the Stasi, maybe? Torture, coercion and psychological terror and much blood was spilt. But man, my butt is sore. Can’t wait to get a nice cold LÃ¼bzer when we finally reach our destination for today – Neustrelitz.
I found a nice, quiet spot in the backyard of our captivating Hansel and Gretel-like Neustrelitz hotel, not too far from our ground level room. Drinking a cold one and making notes in my journal, I was daydreaming, enchanted by the setting sun. Then, a movement out of the corner of my eye. But only shadows dancing off the tall spruce trees.
Suddenly, a shrill scream, “LEN!”
I dropped everything and ran back to the room. Like in the movies, I smashed my shoulder through the door and crashed into the room. On all fours on the floor, I looked up. Chantal was standing on the bed clutching our travel corkscrew, “I saw a mouse.”
If you dare…Click on any photo for the slideshow. Please leave comments at the bottom of the page. These are random shots from the last month or so.