Freyja sat at her dresser, staring at the rose still lying on its silk wrapping. It was carved out of amber; every petal a perfect replica of the real thing; lifelike veins lined the length of its stem, flecked by sharp thorns, the mere thought of their sting making Freyja’s eyes water. Continue reading
Tag Archives: Colours
When Aliens Saved The World
For many months no one realised that Earth was under attack. Humanity continued as it was. Alarms went off in the morning. Coffee was brewed. Children were taxied around to ballet, football and school. Continue reading
Shadows
The lights in the hall switch off. Darkness consumes the space. She runs with arms outstretched. Her fingers encounter wood. She fumbles for the lock. Finds it and opens the door in a panic. She jumps onto the threshold.
Exhale. The street lamps bring momentary relief. But the street is deserted. She is alone. Continue reading
One Less than a Perfect Square
“GET UP!” the man that was her husband bellowed.
But Joshua did not seem to hear fixated as he was on the Rubik cube, three sides by three. The white side was facing up. A complete cross had already taken shape. His fingers worked frantically fast, his eyes closed, his mind completely absorbed.
“Get up!” his father shouted again and with each hollered cruelty, with each shouted instruction, Rose’s heart shivered. Continue reading
A Beckoning
Mark waved from across the boat and Eliza could just see his smiling eyes behind the thick glass of the goggles. They timed their fingers together; three, two, one, SPLASH. The newlyweds were in the water. They touched their masks together, a symbolic gesture to their usual nose shake and dived, slowly, deep into the darkness. Continue reading
Angela Wickham
The first thing he noticed about Rutina Sunshine when she first sauntered in was that she was too tall and thin. Everything else about her was unimpressive. Her boobs were hardly big enough and her butt too flat. But she had a confident smile and that counted for something. Continue reading
Broken Record
image courtesy of comicpie (via Flickr Creative Commons)
Maurice Nigaud lay dying; sun burnt, starving and dehydrated. He was sandwiched between blue sky and bluer sea. His food rations were nothing more than a sweet memory and his water long since evaporated along with all possibility of survival. Continue reading
Silver Pieces
Reverend Casey pencilled the entry in his diary: Monday; 0830 mass. Summers. He then looked up and smiled benevolently at Mrs Summers. “That will be ten quid, Marge.” The old woman fished in her purse and brought out an assortment of coins, counted slowly, and eventually accumulated the requested fee. Continue reading
“EXTER-MI-NAAATE!”
Last night while I was sleeping a Dalek came to visit. He was tall and his silhouette was the shape of a dark man standing one foot away from my bed. He did not look like a Dalek at all, but I knew he was because he said, “EXTER-MI-NAAATE!” He said it several times in that monotonic and unrelenting voice his race usually adopt. I wasn’t afraid of him either. In fact I was only confused. Continue reading
The Mayan Countdown, 21/12/12: Scenario One
“Whoa! Peter Jackson really did it this time,” said Mario amid flushed cheeks.
“I can’t get the dwarf song out of my head,” muttered Pierre more to himself than to his friends, as was his way.
“Richard Armitage is so hot! I feel dizzy though,” put in Francesca while feeling her forehead.
“I told you, forty-eight frames per second is going to be awesome,” replied Mario talking hurriedly.
“I said I’m dizzy, how is that awesome!” Continue reading
Sandra's scribbles 