Laying Low

Mama’s face lit up when she spied me through the old screen door.

“Well hello there, Sugar.” She said. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hello Mama.” I replied. “May I come in?” Continue reading

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Tally

He was short. That’s what caught my attention. I’m a fairly average height, but he barely reached my shoulders. Otherwise, the guy was unremarkable. Dark hair, blue eyes, handsome but not gorgeous — if not for his height, few would spare him a second glance. Continue reading

Deceit

This story is for people aged 18+ as it is NSFW. If you under 18 please click on the Fiction Friday link in the menu to read some of my other stories. Continue reading

Blood

Hushed whispers and tugging hands startled me awake. My fuzzy mind, still groggy from sleep, struggled to make sense of my surroundings as I was roughly dragged down smooth stone stairs towards a cold steel cell. I felt something wet on my leg and looked down. My heart froze at the trickle of red I saw there. Oh, Gods! Blood!

Shock cleared my mind and brought clarity. I was no longer being dragged into the bowels of the basement. Instead, I was racing towards the safety of sterility, thoughts spinning towards panic. Continue reading

microprompt 848: slug

I was having a hard time deciding on a post for today, and my response to the twitter tag #microprompt was slightly too long for a tweet, so I just posted it here, instead. I’ll take a screenshot to post on twitter. Continue reading

Unravelled

Terry waited for Julie to pass before emerging from the shadows.

“Hello, Michael.” he said coldly.

“Terry! But you… you’re…” Continue reading

Luck

‘Fake’.

That’s what we all thought when we saw the video of the homeless guy tearing out the cop’s throat with his bare teeth. Two point three million views and not one person thought it was real. Sure, the word ‘Zombie’ was jokingly bandied about in quite a few comments, but no-one was insane enough to truly believe it. Anyone who did sure as hell wasn’t wasting time watching videos on YouTube. Continue reading

Echoes

Peering over the rusty gate, she noticed patches of moss growing on a broken stone path. Dandelions and toadstools littered the overgrown grass hiding the dens of field mice. An old tyre rested between the roots of an ancient oak tree, the frayed remains of rope still swinging from a strong branch. Ghosts of children’s laughter echoed on the breeze.

Infestation

Infestation: noun — the presence of an unusually large number of insects or animals in a place, typically so as to cause damage or disease.¹

I slam the dictionary closed. The word certainly describes my life at the moment. Infestation. The only question now is what to do about it. I’ve tried traps, but they only catch one at a time, barely making a dent in the population. Continue reading

Ashfall

Ash.

I am so sick of the sight of ash. It’s worse than sand, you know. It gets into everything. Cleaning it is a never-ending chore, since it just keeps on falling. It’s in my clothes, my hair, even my food. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything that didn’t taste of ash. Continue reading

They Came

The day before they came was the same as any other. I woke to the sound of my alarm blaring at six a.m.. Grumbling about the unfairness of life, I stumbled blearily into the bathroom where I performed the usual morning functions before showering and dressing for school. Continue reading

Sunlight

Sunlight filtered through the partially closed blinds, creating a pattern of artificial lines across her pale skin. She lay still upon the bed, arms out-stretched, hair framing her face, like a sacrificial offering. His eyes roamed her body, flawless, save for a small yellow tattoo above her left ankle. Leaning closer, he noticed a small yellow star smiling up at him, dressed as a cowboy, with a ten gallon hat on its head and a gun in each hand.

He snorted, amused, reaching out to caress her leg with a calloused, but gentle, hand. Such exquisite beauty deserved to be displayed, admired, like a priceless work of art. He took a step back and gazed at the traces of confusion still lingering in her warm brown eyes.

“Perfection,” he whispered.

Silently, he placed the photograph carefully between her developing breasts. Satisfied, he made his way to the street, blending seamlessly with the crowd outside. Leaving the door open would ensure that she would be found quickly. He smiled.

Let the games begin.

Writer

Tick

The room was quiet, oppressive. The sound of her own breathing filled her ears. Continue reading

Tree

I got to help Dad pick the tree this year. The one I chose took up the whole backseat. I didn’t mind. It meant I got to sit in the front with Dad. Still, we drove home slowly, ‘cos the trunk was sticking out the window. We’re lucky there weren’t any cops around to give Dad a fine. When we got home, my brother helped Dad carry the tree inside and put it in a bucket. I held it up while he and Dad filled the bucket with dirt from the garden. Continue reading

Gifted

You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath. Your ears strain as you try to convince yourself that the house is empty. A low moan sounds from beneath the tree, causing your breath to hitch. Slowly, softly, you caress the brightly wrapped gift as you gently remove the paper an inch at a time. Continue reading

Memoriae

The room is cluttered with memories of a well-spent life. The wall-to-wall bookcase is filled with leather-bound books. An urn, brimming with scrolls, stands in the corner. On the walls is a portrait of a beautiful, dark-haired woman, holding a child. The large mahogany desk holds an intricately carved cigar case, a small globe and a glass box containing a lock of blonde hair and a tooth. The spirit of the former occupant pervades the room.

3453-illustration-of-berries-on-a-vine-pv

This is another creative writing assignment from 2005. We were given the sentence “The room contained a desk and a shelf full of books” and told to add atmosphere.

 

 

The Reckoning

Through the trees, the sun broke in a dappled pattern on the ground. The smell of the rich soil and vegetation swamped my senses. Birds, sounding their calls, echoed through the valley. Lizards scurried through the undergrowth. It was morning already.

I held my breath, listening intently to the sounds of the forest. It was sheer luck that alerted me to his presence. A sixth sense, really. I had almost missed the signs — an extra rustle in the wind, the random snap of a twig, a flash of grey that should not have been seen in this place. So, now I waited, my cloak pulled tight, my nerves stretched almost to breaking. Continue reading

Wrong Number

“Hello?” Sandra said into the phone.

“G’day. I’m calling to speak to Mike.” Said the voice on the other end.

“Sorry, mate. Wrong number. There’s no Mike here.”  She answered before hanging up the phone.

Thirty seconds later, the phone rang again. It was the same bloke, still looking for Mike.

“Look, I already told you, there isn’t anybody here by that name. He obviously gave you the wrong number.” She hung up again.

Almost as soon she replaced the receiver, it was ringing again. “Look mate,” she snapped. “I already told you, I don’t know this Mike of yours. Now don’t call again!”

“Actually,” a soft voice spoke. “This is Mike. I just called to give you a heads up that I gave this number to a particularly persistent guy at the club last night. I take it he’s called you already?”

Sandra was annoyed and told him so. Mike was apologetic and told her so. He’d made up a number on the spot, and only later did it occur to him that it might actually be a real number. While still annoyed, Sandra was impressed that Mike was willing to own up to his mistake. She commiserated with him about overly persistent suitors, as well.

Mike and Sandra chatted for nearly an hour. They had a lot in common and never seemed to run out of things to say. Before ending their conversation, they had agreed to meet for coffee the next day. As she hung up the phone, Sandra mused that maybe wrong numbers weren’t all bad.

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OK, this week’s story is very short and not very good. I apologise. I ran out of time before leaving for my holiday and figured something was better than nothing, so there you go. The prompt for this story was “It all started with a wrong number…”. I can’t remember where I got it from.

Gone

The first time I disappeared, I was six. One moment, I was sitting at the table eating spaghetti with my family, the next moment I was gone. Just like that; now you see me, now you don’t. Continue reading

Christmas Comes But Once A Year

Karen woke to the sound of whispering. Rolling over and glancing at the window, she groaned as she saw it was still dark out.

“It’s too damned early,” she grumbled to herself. Hoping to get some more rest, she closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep, ignoring the sounds of feet racing up and down the hallway and the quiet rustling of toys being removed from stockings. She sighed as her body gradually relaxed. She was just about to drift into slumber, when the loud flush of the toilet jerked her back into wakefulness. Continue reading

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

‘’Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.’

I wish.  It sure as hell isn’t that quiet in our house, let me tell you. There’s no popping off to bed early, dreaming of sugar plums (whatever the hell they are) and waiting for good old St Nick here. No, here it’s all noise and bickering and chaos. Continue reading

Sleigh Bells in the Snow

Snow. It means so many things to so many different people. It speaks of magic and Christmas and the sound of children’s laughter; it speaks of cold and darkness and death. Continue reading

The Sound of Falling Snow

Trigger Warning: Suicide

I never knew snow had a sound. Oh, I knew about the crunch it makes as you walk over it and the irritating nails on chalkboard sound of skis passing over the top. I have even heard the dull thud of snowballs hitting my brother once when we visited Charlotte Pass. Nothing in my life, though, prepared me for the near silent whisper of snowflakes floating gently to the ground, a sound so quiet it is almost felt rather than heard. Continue reading