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.
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.
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 mummified corpse on Dr Jade’s table lay on its side with fingers clawed and legs crouched, kneeling. The mouth was open, caught in the middle of a frozen scream.
All Dr Jade was interested in were the teeth though; the perfect white teeth on the grey, withered body. Continue reading
I started this journal with ‘Day 5’ because it feels like almost a week since I washed up here.
A month ago, I boarded the yacht for the adventure of a life time. Breaking the yacht on the rocks was unexpected. Waking up with my face buried in the sand at the break of dawn was a miracle. Continue reading
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!’
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.
‘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.
Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy
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.
I feel tentacles rising, slithering up, wrapping themselves around my brain, consuming it.
My full mental power comes to my defense.
I hack, but Doubt creeps up again and takes over my head.
For Trifextra. The challenge is to write 33 words on a beast in an unusual place. Hope this qualifies.
copyright -Janet Webb
We stood on the sand and watched them go. ‘We’; the sick, the old, the crippled and the slow, surrounded by the debris they left behind; discarded bags, empty trolleys.
Some were still arriving at the bay, dragging injured legs behind; their expression turning to unspeakable desperation when they realized they were too late. Continue reading