J.S. Meresmaa

The Heart That Beats in A Dream

"The memory isn’t only in the mind, but also in the body. It has roots that grow into the skin underneath the skin. You’re there, under the epidermis, in my stratum. There are things that cannot be forgotten, though if desired they can be remembered differently. Sometimes remembering is a choice. Sometimes forgetting is.

The Greek believed there is a stream of oblivion, from which the dead drank to be born again, freed from their memories. It’s almost like the opposite between the two of us: at our birth we stood at the root of the stream of oblivion. You made it across, I stayed behind."

An excerpt from The Heart That Beats in a Dream,  a short story

                                        Translation by Greta Katz

                                        Published in Never Stop —

Finnish Science Fiction and

Fantasy Stories, 2017

Forever, as Always

"The ground was soft and it rustled beneath her sneakers. Branches poked at her as she stepped into the cover of the bush and dropped her jeans to her knees. The smell of blood was cloying, almost syrupy. Juuli felt disgusted."

An excerpt from Forever, as Always

Translation by J. Robert Tupasela

Published in Finnish Weird #4, 2017

Tears For The Sea

"Looking from shore, the sea is dark. The memory of a storm is evident on the drying sand and on stones licked smooth by waves: tattered fish nets, seaweed, trunks of drift wood, whelks, and clams, which have already started their slow journey back to the sea. The smell of the deep feels stronger than before and the wind swirls sharp enough to raise tears in eyes. A woman stops at a rock on the beach and lays a jute sack beside her feet. She doesn’t feel the wind nor smell the sea."

                                         An excerpt from Tears for the Sea,  a short story

                                        Translation by Greta Katz

                                        Published in Usva International 2015

Sueños que entristecen las mañanas

"No sé cómo funciona exactamente la memoria. Es un mecanismo sorprendente: incluso en su imperfección logra cumplir su objetivo. Nos deja olvidar, nos deja creer en otras alternativas. Es como un apuntador de teatro que nos susurra las líneas en su silencio incómodo. Es nuestro apoyo cuando titubeamos en la escalera oscura de la mente humana y nuestro consuelo cuando tropezamos.

   La memoria no está solamente en la mente, también está en el cuerpo. Tiene raíces que crecen en la segunda piel que se sumerge bajo la primera. Tú estás ahí, de bajo de mi epidermis, en mis corpúsculos mortecinos."

An excerpt from Sueños que entristecen las mañanas

Translation Sergio Prudant Vilches y Outi Korhonen

Published in Luces del Norte,  2016