Category Archives: Fiction

I tend not to put too much fiction on my blog, even though I am, first and foremost, a fiction writer. The reason being that I am still hoping and striving to publish my short stories in magazines and other official publications and so, due to copyright rules, I cannot self-publish said stories on this blog. I do tend to create the occasional tale that is meant for my readers’ eyes only though, and here is where you can find these random imaginings.

The Death of Baphomet

Fleas jumped off of the tangled hair, copulated in mid-air and settled back amid the black tendrils.

I stared in disgusted fascination, my nostrils having made peace with the assaulting stench.

My mind was drawn inward, savouring the festering feeling of satisfaction acting like balm against the long-aching depths in the pit of my stomach.

I watched the gaping hole betwixt its eyes, the hole I had just made, rendering its horns useless; unable now to ram at me; its dead legs unable to stalk me; its glassy eyes, emptied of the evil spirit that has haunted me for so long.

Continue reading →

Salvation in Silver

roiling-cloud-1

Copyright – Kelly Sands

After days of ceaseless chanting, all the magi have accomplished is this oppressive canopy of rumbling clouds.

Below us, dark legions spread across the valley.

On our side, one hundred remain of the thousand that saw the first dawn of battle.

The chanting paused.

A child now stands among the quarreling magi.  Unbidden, he steps forward and lifts a hand over the abyss.

Then, through the clouds, a shimmer.

A silver dragon swoops low among black flags and the spreading tidal roar of terror.

They flee; disperse like an ant colony disturbed.

The dragon soars and disappears and, with it, the child.

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Ticket or No Ticket

538174131girl_runaway1

 

The first time I left home, I managed to get to the front gate before Doreen ran out and grabbed my shoulder.  I had walked out in the middle of a talking to, so I wasn’t really expecting to go very far.

The second time I made it out onto the street.  She was sleeping that time and I was very, very quiet so I don’t know how she knew I was leaving.

But I didn’t plan it right, you see.  I should have done it when Daddy and Doreen were at work.

The third time… Continue reading →

Hollow

Copyright -Mary Shipman

Copyright -Mary Shipman

All I remember from the day the humans left is an all-encompassing, bright flash. They were gone before the night was dawn.

My three little ones are my world now, and the humans’ house is our home.  The most recent danger is a lone wolf that roams the woods that have spilled over the front yard.  While I hunt, I hide my kittens in the holes up in the wall.   Wolves don’t jump that high.

And yet, I return to a quiet house. A claw marks the length of the wall; too high for a wolf; deep enough for a bear. My babies are gone.

—

For Friday Fictioneers. Football fever has caught me by the throat this season.  I write this as I watch Spain v. Chile.  Tell me, is football an inspiring muse?

The Rendezvous

I met him once on my way to work.  He was as expected; tall and thin, his figure bent by age, leaning on a scythe.   His face was hidden by the black cloak, greening with age.

‘You can’t have come for me!’ I said.  It wasn’t a question.

‘And why not?’ His was.

‘Because I’m too young.  I still have much to do!’

‘Like what?’

I stopped and thought for a while.  ‘Well, I’m on my way to work.  Can’t just leave without notice.  How would my boss cope?’

He paused and didn’t speak for a long while.

‘Have it your way then.  I’ll take you later.’

**

He was waiting for me again on my way from work to home.

Continue reading →

The Land of Opportunities

‘Your mama is so fat, that—’
A long, low booing resonated from the audience.
‘Okay! okay…Have you ever heard of the koi who was coy with his wife?’
‘Get off the stage!’
‘No, no wait…Okay; man walks in a bar—‘
Whizz. Glass shattered on the stage.
Damian ran out of the theatre for his life. He sat in the dark alley next to the backstage door analyzing the scribbled list in front of him.
‘Garbage Collector’ was next.
A man’s voice startled him; ‘How much for half an hour?’
Damian froze for a second, then shrugged. No reason ‘Male Prostitute’ shouldn’t be on that list.

koi

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

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For Trifecta and Friday Fictioneers. Two in one; economizing in this economy.  The word given by Trifecta is: BOO – 3 (verb) to show dislike or disapproval of someone or something by shouting “Boo” slowly. Friday Fictioneers, on  the other hand, gave us the lovely picture above.

Under the Carob Tree

There were once three men who used to sit on the bench shaded by the carob tree at the far corner of the square.  They were much younger than the tree, albeit as wrinkly and bent by age as its bark.

Everyday their vigil began right after the seven-thirty mass. They sipped English tea in a tall glass at eight-thirty, then bread and cheese at ten. The bench under the carob tree would be empty between twelve and two; which was precisely the span  of time it took the sun to graze the wooden bench before its rays were eclipsed by the second house on the left. Continue reading →